209




Book__£:jLaH4L_ 
 
 CopyrightFJlo^ 
 
 COPYRIGHT DEPOSIT. 
 














X^hc Rcrmif 8 Rome 
 
 Grover the first 
 \oQcmxtc 
 
 AND 
 
 Other poems 
 
 ^^ BY - i 
 
 jf VINTON WEBSTER 
 
 AUTHOR OF AUGUSTA, ETC. 
 
 San Francisco 
 
 THE WHITAKER & RAY COMPANY 
 
 (incorporated) 
 
 1903 
 


" Ig LlLiU/', 
 
 Two Ctwi.rf RROEn/et) 
 
 OCT l.'^' tmi3 
 
 Cl.fiss* a,VYr, f:r.i 
 
 ;9 : i:.^f ^t ! 
 
 
 Ea.'i,eJ*e.d according to Act of Congress in the year 1903 
 
 BY 
 
 J. VINTON WEBSTER 
 In the office of the Librarian, at Washington, D. C. 
 


Dedicated to 
 
 my beloved daughter, 
 
 HELEN WEBSTER CLARK, 
 
 Ever kind, gentle and devoted to those she loves. 
 





Prefatory f4otc. 
 
 In preparation of the following poems, 
 the chief purpose in view has been to instill 
 love of humanity, love of the beautiful in 
 nature and of the Divinity, who seems to be 
 present with us in every work and aspira- 
 tion for human betterment. 
 
 J. V. W. 
 





Index. 
 
 The Hermit's Home, 9 
 
 yosemite, 109 
 
 ViLLE DE Saint Xazaire, 118 
 
 The Lover's Farewell, 124 
 
 Carmena's Curse, 127 
 
 May de Veres, 181 
 
 Soul Harmony, . . . . , lo5 
 
 Time, 137 
 
 Evil Omens, 139 
 
 Lillian, 143 
 
 Old Man's Lament, 145 
 
 Music 147 
 
 The Watchman, 148 
 
 Shakespeare, 151 
 
 Shall We Live Again? 153 
 
 Grover the First, 159 
 





X^be Rcrmit^s f)ome* 
 
 Canto I. 
 
 Oa that fair eve 
 The hunt had spent its force ; the tired hounds 
 Tracked after me with pant and lolling tongues, 
 Through groves of noble oak and hazel hedge, 
 That grew in clumps about the spurs and crags, 
 Till winding on beneath a rugged bluff, 
 My pack in wonder stopped to bay a hole, 
 Rockbound, with door-like arch and slanting roof, 
 As if a porchway to a pillared hall. 
 
 I peered within, and as I gazed, I saw 
 A frame in somber dress and seated on 
 A stone, white-haired, and leaning on a cane. 
 '•AVh^' art thou here in this lone place, amid 
 Tliese rocks and rugged hills, brush-clad and crowned 
 With cedars green and whispering pines? " 
 
 He sat dumfounded at the sight of such 
 Intrusion, rude, upon his cavern home. 
 His eyes were large and full, with austere face. 
 Deep-furrowed with the rasping years of time. 
 Held council with a breadth of brow that told 
 Of thoughts beyond the grasp of common minds. 
 
 An age, it seemed, he sat in silence there. 
 And then it did appear he spoke, but yet 
 No sound — as when a cloud too distant for 
 The ear to catch the thunder roll, the flash 
 Of light that blazes on its front, reveals 
 A power there, prodigious in its wake. 
 


10 ■ POEMS OF LOVE AND PHILOSOPHY. 
 
 la this suspense that told upon ray nerves, 
 A lark, with golden throat, essayed to siug 
 His mellow evening hymn in. heather high 
 Above the cavern door, and as his lays 
 Rang out and echoed sweetly up among 
 The crowning peaks, the hermit's rigid face 
 Relaxed into a smile, as when the moon 
 Does half dispel the haze of diugy night. 
 
 " Why am I here," he said, " alone among 
 These uninviting hills ? Come in, strauge sir. 
 And since you stumbled on my hiding place 
 And do persist in knowledge why I'm here. 
 And since you seem to have a heart not prone 
 To gibe the bitterness of human ills, 
 I will confide some thoughts, in truth, that weigh 
 Upon me heavily, with trust and hope 
 That such revealing may you serve and save 
 From many troubles common to your lot.'' 
 
 Reflection sat serene in every line 
 Of that grand face, with eyes that seemed to burn 
 In depth, like vestal fires never quenched. 
 With amber fingers to his temple pressed, 
 Half hid within his flowing hair, white as 
 The camlet's silken fleece for winter clothed ; 
 With left hand resting on his sturdy staif, 
 Unbarked, deep, knotted, curved about the top. 
 
 He sat and forward leaned, mute as the stones 
 That pillared up the granite hall, with eyes 
 Bent on the vale below, where ran a stream 
 With shimmering light that fleck the willow boughs 
 That gently swayed as fanned the evening breeze. 
 
 The sun, hazed in the western horizon, 
 Seemed like a ball of blood which whirled above 
 The gleaming sea, that sang its requiem 
 


THE hermit's home. 11 
 
 To all the dead who rock forever, prone 
 And pale, upon its shining coral reefs. 
 
 I could not break the spell, it hung about 
 My heart as if a dream of something I 
 Had surely seen, in fact, or shadow-land. 
 At length he turned and fixed his gaze on me, 
 Deep set, but yet, with all, so kindly that 
 I felt assured and braced myself to hear — 
 As one who hopes, yet fears reality. 
 
 " I trust," he thus begun, " No idle freak 
 Has brought you hence, a wilful pry into 
 My gloomy life, wherein the fairest hopes 
 And bitter wormwood mingle in a way 
 Which makes me wish that chaos could blot out 
 The past and rescue memory from all 
 The ills that weigh like lead upon my heart, 
 
 " 'Tis true I've seen the roses in their bloom 
 And with the sweet incense of myrtle for 
 A guide to deep affection, I have felt 
 The spell of woman's love, that makes full bliss 
 Or narrow hell to him who dares to claim 
 The shining idol of his callow years. 
 
 " But let that pass. 'Tis gone ! What did I say? 
 O, what a wretched man I surely am ! 
 My youth was spent half- wild and proud about 
 A growing city, further east. It's name ? 
 It matters not — suffice, it bordered on 
 A deep and placid river near the sea — 
 A mart of trade that sent its argosies 
 Like phantoms flying from the fertile coast 
 To trafi&c largely with the busy world. 
 
 " Here wealth displayed utility and pride 
 In massive blocks of brick and granite built^ 
 With domes and steeples, silver-lined, 
 


12 POEMS OF LOVE AND PHILOSOPHY. 
 
 All rivaling in growth as if to reach 
 The pinnacle of great vanity. 
 
 " Then to rear came a gentle slope 
 That lifted up to higher levels, decked 
 With fair abodes among the native trees — 
 All interlaced with riinniug vines and banked 
 About with flowers most profusely. 
 
 " And in the distance, where the city lost 
 Itself among the wooded hills, there ran 
 A range which seemed a backbone of the world 
 That lifted up into the blue of God's 
 Great arch, that spans this little sphere, 
 As does some canopy a grain of sand. 
 
 " In this fair summerland my lot was cast. 
 By parentage was to the manor born. 
 With leisure, life seemed as a holiday, 
 On which to labor counted as reproach. 
 
 " My home, pretentious and environed with 
 A garden rich in native growth and sweet 
 Exotics from a hundred sunny climes. 
 I grew to relish nature as the birds 
 That swing with song high on the lofty trees 
 And drink the streams that flow like moving pearls 
 Among the nodding lilies of the vale. 
 
 " My drill and education was the best 
 The city could afford. My father wished 
 Me for the ministry, and often on 
 A Sabbath morn would bid my audience 
 To songs and prayer within the steepled church. 
 
 " But then, I loved the music of the groves. 
 And God's great temples in the woods so well. 
 That lofty-steepled sanctuaries did 
 Impress my simple mind and heart as some 
 Great vaulted catacomb, much like unto 
 


THE hermit's home. 13 
 
 The silent halls of Eserhadden, where 
 Sad spirits whisper of the damned. 
 
 " I much preferred the simple ways of Christ 
 Who gave his lessons under olive trees, 
 Or near the summer sea of Galilee, 
 AVhen twilight lingered over Bethlehem. 
 
 " While thus engaged in thinking of myself, 
 And manner of my future livelihood. 
 An incident occurred that did upset 
 My equipoise and sadden all my life. 
 
 '' 'Twas on an April morning blushing in 
 To May. The Goddess Dawn, had beckoned up 
 The sun a little way and as his eye 
 Pursued the glowing, njaiiph-like form above, 
 He sent a gleaming ray of luming light 
 Toward the garden where I stood, and then, 
 The tears, fresh fallen from the weeping night. 
 Turned into jewels on the blooming rose, 
 
 " The Daisy, from its golden disk, peeped forth 
 With dripping eyes as turned each tear into 
 A glowing rainbow, miniature in form. 
 The Violet, long used by lo for 
 Ambrosial food, and from sweet sherbet which 
 The gods in truth designed for cooling draught. 
 


Canto II. 
 
 " As nestled they upoa the warming earth, 
 And blushing like some fairy maiden's face 
 In presence of the one she dearly loves, 
 There breathed a fragrance not in words to name. 
 And just beyond, the glowing Myrtle bloomed 
 And showered forth its beauties on the ground, 
 As when in rapture Horus gathered them 
 To line the royal way which Venus trod, 
 When from the bosom of the waves she came. 
 
 '' And so, on every hand, were nodding to 
 Each other, jewels, most approvingly. 
 To all who had an image in the heart. 
 For things divine in ministry of love. 
 
 ' ' It seemed I stood in dreamland for a time, 
 And then I saw a form upon the walk 
 That startled me, as does a vision on 
 The senses creep, of something fair be^^ond 
 Control, and spells one stolid as a stone. 
 
 " A little hand was stretched to pluck a rose. 
 With wrist and arm no chisel could design; 
 And then was lifted to my gaze, a brow 
 I cannot well describe; suflice it then, 
 The glow of beauty there displayed 
 In form and face and every movement made 
 That seemed a witchery of flesh and blood. 
 Contrived, perhaps, in some romantic mood 
 Of Amphion, with harp and song that built 
 With exhalation Thebes, and temples grand. 
 
 '' Comparison sat dumb at that array, 
 
 14 
 


THE hermit's home. 15 
 
 And cynicism simmered into naught. 
 Her beaming ej'es seemed like two morning stars 
 Withdrawing from the watches of the night 
 And languid with the trusty vigil kept. 
 
 " While thus confused I stood, there came a sound, 
 A murjnur seemed it, such as pue alone 
 Does sometimes hear in dreams, when those 
 He loves, draw near, in faith, to comfort him; 
 And in its melody I heard these words: 
 
 " ' Since it seems this fairy place is not 
 A garden grown to private use alone, 
 But broad enough in heart of him who aims, 
 To let the world in rapture gaze upon 
 The beauty centered here, in betterment 
 Of soul and mind, that leads to higher thoughts, 
 I beg of you, who seem to have control, 
 This rose, some jasmine and just a sprig 
 Of that fair myrtle bough which hangs so near.' 
 
 " I could not move, but seemed entranced, 
 And for a moment stood like one in sense 
 Confused by sight of something new and strange. 
 My tongue refused me utterance, and yet 
 I reached to prune the jasmine, and then 
 Meandering about the myrtle bough 
 I plucked a stem of crowning shower bloom, 
 Which, at its touch, pearl dew drops fell upon 
 The earth with fragrance in their dying breath. 
 
 " And then advancing to the rosebush where 
 She stood and leaving that the fairest hand 
 In all the world had touched, and looking for 
 A charmer, found a cluster growing on 
 A single stem, just buddiug into bloom. 
 
 " And when secured the three she named in one 
 Embrace, I handed her the gems and in 
 


16 POEMS OF LOVE AND PHILOSOPHY. 
 
 The act sweet vision met in duplicate 
 
 Aud soul to soul seemed there revealed by light 
 
 That trembled on the morning star of love. 
 
 And then with graceful bow and smile of thanks 
 
 She left me standing there like one who sees 
 
 A charm or raiubow fading from the sight. 
 
 When half assured I was not going daft. 
 
 I plucked the rose she touched and folded to 
 
 My heart as fond memento of herself, 
 
 With blissful hope that she might come again. 
 
 " Each morning when the dew drops sparkled on 
 The bloom and fragrance scented all the breeze, 
 I clipped the fading roses, watching all 
 The garden walks for that strange apparition, — 
 Substance surely seemed it, j^et in truth 
 So fairy like, I was in doubt and fear, 
 Lest solid earth gave no support to it. 
 
 *• Thus engaged the mornings fled as came, 
 Auroras lead, and disappointed in 
 The watch I kept, with hunger in my heart, 
 Withdrew to shade beside the waterfall. 
 And yet the sight I longed to see delayed 
 To come. So days grew lengthwise into weeks, 
 And when despair stood in the breach of all 
 My hope, she did appear as light of foot, 
 As does a water nymph that leaves no track 
 Behind her flowing robes and sylph like form. 
 
 '' She seemed so much at home and glibly talked 
 Of botany and all the glories of 
 Her queenly kingdom while I cut and trimmed 
 The daintiest voluptuaries, 
 That, in fact, I lost the stupor of 
 My comatose and gave her glib reply 
 And compliment when dint of courtesy 
 


THE hermit's home. 17 
 
 Most finely shaded did allow the gliut. 
 
 " And with the thanks for flowers well arranged, 
 She did extend her shapely hand and said: 
 ' We live upon the hill, just where the climb 
 Grows in the level space among the grove 
 Which Eros planted in the make-up of 
 His morning walk, when all the infant world 
 Was stranger to the vine and stately tree; 
 And as I have a brother studious 
 And schooled in many things that seem to be 
 Full cousin to your wish and bent of mind, 
 Perhaps it would be time unwasted if 
 You chanced to call on him for intercourse.' 
 It was enough of skillful hint to me, 
 And thanked her did I graciously, 
 As one who feels he's reached a step upon 
 The blissful stairway leading to the skies. 
 
 " For three long days I wandered to and fro 
 Around about my home, like one who's lost 
 Within a wood and sees the glintage of 
 The sun through breakage of the shim'riug boughs, 
 And restless that he cannot reach his goal 
 Before the glowing light of day is gone. 
 Discretion kept me harrowed thus, because 
 I felt a rush to see the charmer might 
 But willow hedge my aim and hopeful heart. 
 
 " The third day waned at last, the evening sun 
 Seemed loath to leave a land so sweet and fair; 
 But go he must, and wiping dry his eyes 
 Upon a silver cloud, and gave his brow 
 A bath of shining mist to soothe, sustain, 
 Then slowly sank into the troubled flood. 
 
 " The time had come for action, yet my nerves 
 Were tensioned like a harp with keys that could 
 


18 POEMS OF LOVE AND PHILOSOPHY. 
 
 Not hold the strings ; a dose of anodyne 
 
 Did brace me for a dress in spotless garb, 
 
 By sight of which more hearts are won than can 
 
 Attain the solid wisdom of the world. 
 


Canto III. 
 
 "The skint of night had harbored in the vale, 
 And somber Ammon hekl dominion there 
 Before I reached the hill on which she lived, 
 ' Just where the roadway turned among the trees,' 
 All interlaced, it seemed, with clambering vines. 
 
 " The house, full Gothic, gabled all aboiit. 
 With indent of veranda, 'questered in 
 Each curve and turn ; with mullion windows, 
 Trained around with jasmine, potted plants. 
 In every nook and curve, disabled for 
 A larger hold; with trees of stately growth 
 On every hand ; and garden glories strewn 
 About, as where sweet nature in a clime 
 Of tropic sun sheds warmth and showers on 
 The earth, profusely, as the heart and ej^es 
 Of loving Byblis for her brother Caunus. 
 In this elysium lived my charmer. 
 Sweeter for the sweets surrounding her. 
 
 " The days went by without a shadow on 
 Their fleeting wings, and all I do, in truth, 
 Remember of them is that as they sped, 
 Sweet incense showered in their balmy wake. 
 My books forsook me as stern judgment does 
 A myth, and stared from every shelf, as if 
 To say, ' Leave us alone, your head is turned. 
 And till your senses come again, presume 
 No handling of our pages while in love. 
 For solid substance, such as we contain, 
 Can hardly reach an appetite that feeds 
 On Julep, mint and things ambrosial ; 
 
 19 
 


20 POEMS OF LOVE AND PHILOSOPHY. 
 
 But foolish raau, remember this : The time, 
 When hungered you will be for other food, 
 Will come and weigh like lead upou your heart.' 
 As one who glibly sails a summer sea, 
 Unmindful that the monsoon breeds within 
 The torrid zone, I laughed the warning out 
 Of breath, as some old loon with upper room 
 To let, and kept the giddy pace of one 
 With goggles on, who views the crumbling earth 
 Beneath his feet as fields of evergreen, 
 Until the stumble of destruction comes. 
 
 " The climax, autumn spanned, was reached at last. 
 Fair Ceres stood among her golden sheaves, 
 The fading green upon the rustling leaves 
 Denoted change, their song was sad and in 
 Their yellow melancholy whispered to 
 Each other of the fall awaiting them. 
 The gentle convolvulus, winding up 
 Its cups upon the garden's granite wall. 
 Entwined about with spray of rosemary, 
 Did seem as if in faith were holding forth 
 To me a bud, While stood I there, and she, 
 With downcast eyes and sprig of myrtle in 
 Her hand, as showered on the earth its sweets. 
 That nimble fingers deftly plucked away. 
 
 " There was no other word to say than that 
 Which struggled to my lips for utterance. 
 It came at last, and I, upon my knees, 
 Without response she gave to me her hand, 
 And in reply I held the jewel to 
 My heart, as one forgetting all things else. 
 The rest I cannot say — no tongue can tell — 
 Sufiice it that the bliss of all my years 
 Had melted into one delicious kiss, 
 


THE hermit's home. 21 
 
 While words were dumb iipou my fevered lips. 
 
 '• The day was set when we should be as oae, 
 And twine our souls about the same fond hope, 
 To glide along the coming years with spring 
 Forever present in the heart. 
 Time sped on, the day approached, and then 
 There came the dirge, as when the summer 
 Fruitage feels the chill of winter's blast 
 Without a note of warning for the change ; 
 Or as a malefactor, high in hope, 
 Is dropped through darkness on to hungry hooks, 
 When all the world is blissful to his sight. 
 
 '' 'Twas on an evening tide that sat upon 
 October's rim, while raw-winged winds shook down 
 From shrub and stally trees their yellow leaves, 
 Sad emblems of decay and flight of time. 
 When Beatrice said to me, — that was her name — 
 ' Dear Leon, do you know there is for you 
 And I, a double welcome down the way. 
 Tonight, at Madam Rollins, where the stars. 
 That now are coming out, will be eclipsed. 
 And make the golden sun seem dim at noon. 
 
 " 'AH the fashion aud elite of this 
 Fair town are certain to attend, and then 
 A Count, late of Marseilles, is billed 
 To be on hand with gaudy retinue. 
 And all the gems and silver-slippered sweets. 
 The burg affords will swing in retiform 
 To catch, the ambling fortune hunter, with 
 Gold bricks and shale of great gentility. 
 Of course you'll go, for ere the autumn frost 
 Is gone, we will be wed and into bed 
 And playing cosily at hide and seek.' 
 
 " Of course, I could not otherwise than go. 
 


22 POEMS OF LOVE AND PHILOSOPHY. 
 
 It was a brilliant throng, a modern day 
 Aifair, in which the ballroom floor was but 
 A sea of whirling silk, too short above 
 And much too long below, as when in glee 
 Fair Venus makes a skirt of rainbows, 
 Gathered at the waist and all above, 
 A glowing mist of airy nothings set, 
 
 " My winsome love was fairest of them all, 
 A gorgeous piece of mechanism where 
 Sweet nature struggled with the milliner 
 To gain supremacy. At points they were 
 So intermingled that the practiced eye 
 Was doubtful where the frilling ended, and 
 The solid flesh began its master3^ 
 
 " I reeled and swung with her but once, she said 
 I was too slow, and hugged so tightly' too. 
 She never lost a skip till da3diglit dawned 
 Upon the eastern hills, and seemed a thing 
 Of meager gauze and blushing energy. 
 The Count, superbly dressed, with diamond 
 Glitter in the frout, and waxed mustache, 
 With parted hair from crown to sloping brow. 
 And counted rich in lands he never owned. 
 
 "And seeming like sleuth hound full on the track 
 Of some large game, he singled out my love, 
 As does a trapper after otter skins, 
 Because the fur is fine and meat the best. 
 The Count, in prying, learned clandestinely, 
 Her father was a multi-millionaire, 
 So vied with all his wits to win a gem. 
 Profusely jeweled with the banker's cash. 
 
 " Quadrille did press upon quadrille and waltzed 
 He did with her some dozen times, with all 
 The grace and elite of a nobleman. 
 


THE hermit's home. 23 
 
 And in the welcome rest between the heats 
 I caught them in a cosy corner with 
 Then- nodding head^ together, like two doves 
 That bill and coo tbe fading twilight through. 
 
 " This was too much. The shaft of jealousy, 
 Distilled in gall, did send its poison througli 
 My blood as adder sting that knows no cure. 
 I hid away from sight as does a bird 
 Deep wounded at the heart, and when the time 
 Had come to go, she bid the Frenchman call 
 On her, with look that did betray a sigh. 
 As when one longs for something not possessed. 
 
 " As home we went I eluded her for such 
 Display of freedom with a stranger Count, 
 And wished to know, that since we were engaged 
 And near our wedding day, why she had bade 
 Him urgently to call, as one who held 
 As souvenir your heart and household keys. 
 
 " At this she sulked in silence for a time, 
 And then with blazing face that paled 
 The rising sun's full glare upon the hills, 
 She said, ' You are impertinent beyond 
 Endurance, sir, and seem to think I'm but 
 A jug of common pottery or urn 
 In which to store and hide your jealousy, 
 And bow submissive to j^our will, as one 
 "Who bends like willow boughs before the wind. 
 I'll have my way and do and dare my right 
 As woman free; and from this hour call 
 Engagements off; the die is cast, the Count 
 Will take your place with winnings on my side.' 
 
 " I stood, when she had left the carriage at 
 Her father's home, as one half dazed — 
 As one who gathers from the ground his limp 
 


24 POEMS OF LOVE AND PHILOSOPHY. 
 
 And trembling limbs, from fall prodigious in 
 Its height, and staggering, seeks a resting place. 
 I sought my home, the cold sweat stood upon 
 My face, my hands did shake as does an aspen 
 When a storm sets from a brimming sea. 
 
 " I felt a choking thirst and pain, no one 
 Can ever know, save him who has gone through 
 The fate of love without a recompense. 
 A raging fever came upon me like 
 A venomed wolf upon a stricken lamb. 
 The struggle lasted full a month, and more. 
 The mind, with balance gone, did wander like 
 A spirit lost, and darkness, woven from 
 The sable wings of night, pressed down upon 
 My troubled senses like a canopy 
 That's fallen from its shaky moorings. 
 


Canto IV. 
 
 '' O, tliou unending Time ! 
 That measures minutes and eternities, 
 The gentle balm and trouble soother of 
 All human ills, in thy embrace I found 
 My recompense, as when a grieving child 
 Seeks consolation on its mother's breast. 
 The glowing spring, with all its fragrant bloom, 
 Did beckon me to health as comes, — 
 As comes the weary prodigal to share 
 The love and comfort of his father's home. 
 And in this waiting on sweet nature's process, 
 Leaned I for that strength that comes of rest, 
 As does some ruined pensioner on God, 
 When life seems but a blauk of destiny. 
 
 " 'Tis true that reconciliation with 
 My lot was hard of fair adjustment, for 
 My hopes were bat as withered leaves strewn upon 
 The ground by bleak untimely winds before 
 The summer had matured its blushing fruit. 
 A year had passed, with glimpse of sun and much 
 Of sable wing, since first I met the charm 
 That kills or cures a potent phantasy 
 Which runs in streams that float the fickle ship 
 Beyond the moorings of security. 
 
 " Thus hopes are shivered into atoms by 
 A single word, and darkness settles down 
 Upon a soul that sees no light beyond — 
 Neither had she sent a word to me 
 In all the weary weeks I wrestled with 
 
 25 
 


26 POEMS OF LOVE AND PHILOSOPHY. 
 
 This demon, death, and striving hard to hold 
 
 My mind above the grasp of lunacy. 
 
 I saw her not, nor cheering word received. 
 
 The Count, as I have understood, became, 
 
 In fact, her daily escort, rambling where 
 
 The woods were green, and hand in hand along 
 
 The shaded stream where shining pebbles washed 
 
 Their faces when the morning sun came up. 
 
 " Conceiving of the prime advantage that 
 A blue-blood union, coupled with the name 
 Of ' Count ' would give their daughter in the world 
 Of strut and giddy fashion, sire and dame, 
 Of low estate, yet rich in corner lots 
 And bank accounts, were anxious for the trade, 
 As he who seeks to gain a blooded horse 
 With lucre, huxter made, and lilly fair 
 Of mustang breed. 
 
 " So pledged they willinglj^ some millions cash 
 To bridge the gulf that sadly separates 
 The clink of ducats, vulgar, from the prime 
 Respectability of blooded prince, 
 Sprung from a castled Lord, brave in his own 
 Defense of many robberies. 
 
 " Beatrice, it seems, in wilful mood had kicked 
 Considerably before she was disposed 
 To pull the way the Count essayed to go. 
 It does appear she had no depth of love 
 For him, and doubt of happiness did make 
 Her saw a cord of boards, with sire and dame 
 Before she gave her word and full assent 
 To take the name of Countess Halowell, 
 And make abode in ruined castle on 
 A hill, rock-ribbed, with scanty shrubbery 
 And crumbling walks, on which the skin-dressed Lords 
 


THE hermit's home. 27 
 
 Of olden time had broiled and eat their game, 
 With twisted legs, prone on the stony ground. 
 O, wonderful indeed, the fool a man 
 Can make himself, when crinolined 
 To dizziness and love-sick to the eyes ! 
 If he could ever learn to bear the brunts 
 Of little piques and spites and jealousies 
 So common to the frilling female heart, 
 And always have the wit to smile and bow 
 With compliment when sore and angry at 
 The sting of slight, his conquest would be sure, 
 Though hedged about with moat and brazen guns. 
 
 " But let that pass — all opportunity 
 Is gone to rectify the errors of 
 A day distilled in bitterness of soul. 
 Suffice it that I had no longer hope, 
 Nor wish to prosecute the law, which I 
 Had chosen as an aid to reach the round 
 Upon the ladder leading up to fame. 
 And so, ambition sitting in the dust 
 And playing quits with all the bitter past, 
 I quietly disposed of walks and tenements 
 And lands, at prices fair, but not the best. 
 
 " Then packing full my buckskin haversack 
 And saddle bag, with ample blankets rolled 
 Behind, I mounted Sanger — such a horse 
 As all Bedouins love to own and prize 
 Above the shining pearls that showered on 
 Fair princess of the East by lavish hand. 
 Or tinseled show of some great conqueror. 
 Black as the raven's wing, full-headed, round. 
 With ample girth, broad breast, limbs of steel, 
 Yet nimble as the antelope that runs 
 Before the wind, like mist in shadow-land — 
 


28 POEMS OF LOVE AND PHILOSOPHY. 
 
 My sturdy spenser, breech to saddle breach, 
 With muzzle, stirrup pointing, handy for 
 My major hand, in case of urgent need, 
 To manage most conveniently. 
 
 " Thus mounted on my charger for a tramp 
 That spans the continent. Good Rover stood 
 In wonder, looking at my 'couterments. 
 And waiting for the word to follow on. 
 Faithful dog! ISTewfoundiand, scanty half, 
 A shepherd, quarter, and the balance bull; 
 With hide all lined with silky hair that grew 
 In spots of black and white, with here and there 
 A skint of glossy tan, that came to him 
 Legitimate, upon his mother's side. 
 His face was of that kind that plainly gives 
 Assurance of integrity in man or beast ; 
 With ample brow and brownish eyes that^did 
 Display intelligence that plainly said, 
 As any words could tell, ' You are my friend 
 And loving master, be thou well assured 
 I follow wheresoever leadest thou. 
 Though lurking death be in each track we tread. ^ 
 
 " A narrow, angling pathway followed up 
 On eas}^ grade to higher ranges, checked 
 The steed, and turning looked we down upon 
 The city, as the morning sun brazed 
 Every roof and dome and lifting spire, 
 Flaming like the great Promethean fire 
 God kindled on Olympian crags. 
 I blessed the gainly town, and wept at my 
 Discomfiture, like one who leaves his heart 
 Behind, in search of desolation. 
 
 " Finally, as moves the mourner from 
 The grave of one he loves, I faced the west, 
 


THE hermit's home. 29 
 
 As singing pines, paused in their morning hymn, 
 
 And bid the blazing sun take precedence 
 
 Of all the gentle breeze's murmuriugs 
 
 Among the groves that crowned the azure hills. 
 


Canto V. 
 
 " The winding way we diligent pursued 
 Across sweet streams and little sunny vales 
 And on through woods that knew no haunt of man, 
 Through brush and tumbled trees, wind shaken in 
 The storms that measure potent strength with Fo, 
 And when the day had spent its luming force, 
 With stretching shadows lank and sere among 
 The burnished trees, that told of night's approach. 
 While in the hushing sunset hour, sat 
 In worship of the failing day, there came 
 From high within the arching limbs a sound — 
 A mellow song of sweetest praise to Him 
 Who made them in the early ages of 
 The world, to live beyond and far above 
 The troubled lot of man, who knows not God 
 Is ever present in his works, but seeks 
 The talisman of happiness in grim 
 Pursuits of wealth, which wither in his grasp, 
 Like dead sea fruit, that in its bitterness 
 Can never satisfy the fickle heart. 
 
 " As faded tips of light, and haze of night 
 Began to hang like mantles in the woods, 
 We reached a little vale, cut through with stream 
 Of shining water, singing on its way 
 To meet the brimming river as it moves 
 To mingle with the tides that rock the sea. 
 
 " Here on the streamlet's brow and gentle slopes 
 And in the little vale, the green of spring 
 Just budding into summer bloom, did laugh 
 
 30 
 


THE hermit's home. 31 
 
 Upon the earth, and over all, the oaks, 
 
 With outspread arms, in solemn grandeur seemed 
 
 To whisper from their moving lip-like leaves, 
 
 ' Peace be to those who dwell within our shade 
 
 And will essay to worship with us when 
 
 The evening comes, and glory in the King 
 
 Of day, when through our boughs He darts His shafts 
 
 Of gold upon the sod beneath and all 
 
 The floral beauties at our feet do send 
 
 Up incense as we praise.' 
 
 "A little fire kindled by the stream 
 To hold a shining teapot and a pan 
 Did seem as sacrilege in such a place; 
 And when the frugal meal had passed, 
 Its licking tongues let go the smutty sticks. 
 While darkness spread her mantle in the vale. 
 And in the interval of pause and night 
 Had Sanger fed upon the grassy slopes, 
 And beiug sated sauntered up to us; 
 With shining eyes, and rubbing nose upon 
 My knee, did say as nearly as a horse 
 Can say, ' How much I love thee for the care 
 You take of me and to allow my romp 
 With loosened rein upon a pasture rich 
 In all things sweet and rare ; ' while Rover 
 Came and cuddled at my feet, with jaw 
 Upon his brindle paws, and looking in 
 My face^ as one who studies into depths 
 Beyond his keen, for divination of 
 The soul of man, that he may know and feel 
 The spirit moving there, the better to 
 Perform his ever willing services. 
 
 " There and thus environed, blanket wound, 
 With overcoat for rest of head, I dozed, 
 


32 POEMS OF LOVE AND PHILOSOPHY. 
 
 And dreamed aud looked into the stellar world 
 
 Where in its azure, burning lamps hung out, 
 
 As if to aid the pigmies of 
 
 This world to learn the sober lesson of 
 
 Our littleness in God's unending 
 
 Universe and call reflection to 
 
 The phantasies and selfish ends we seek. 
 
 And thus to give us more of heart and mind 
 
 And human sympathy for pressing ills 
 
 That others bear unceasingly. 
 
 " Most commonly the sweetest hearts are those 
 That suffer most, while smiling fortune is 
 The honey-worded dragon, often 
 Leading down to cold disdain of those 
 Less fortunate in worldly things, and with 
 A smile puts off distress with promises. 
 Until too late to rectify the wrong. 
 0, man ! of but a day upon the earth ! 
 Why play with conscience in the rush for gain 
 And dig your grave upon the brink of hell ? 
 
 " Thus engaged in thought the dreamy night 
 Advanced a pace; the air seemed burthened with 
 The hum of insects, mingled with the sound 
 Of rustling leaves that stirred aud fell as passed 
 The breezes through the branches of the trees. 
 And while I listened, still and mute to all 
 This melting harmony, the night crow's caw 
 Was heard upon the hills, and then in sad 
 And rasping cadence came the whip-poor-will's 
 Ungainly call, as if distress oppressed 
 Its loneliness. And finally, as cap 
 To crown the glory of the waning night 
 The Philomela of the ancient world, 
 In all the sweetness of its mellow tones, 
 


THE hermit's home. 33 
 
 Far back in darkness of the somber wood 
 ■Commenced his saddened lay that hung upon 
 The ear like some sweet cadence coming from 
 The vale of childhood's fairyland, or where 
 The blessed forever tune their harps and sing 
 In praise and presence of the Infinite. 
 
 " How long these charms from dwellers in the vale 
 Did hold my spirit wakeful in the arms 
 Of sleep, I never knew, but when returned 
 To consciousness, the morning sun had tinged 
 To gold the feathery tops of all the pines 
 That grew and shimmered on the mountain crest. 
 •Good Rover stood nearby, and with a whine 
 And paw upraised, seemed anxious to direct 
 Attention to the singing brook, where stood 
 A lovely fawn, so trim and perfect in 
 Its form, that Bouheur never painted such, — 
 With slender neck and head and ears erect. 
 And yellow eyes most prominent, it stood 
 Upon four shapely legs that shames all art 
 In reproduction of their counterpart, 
 
 " Its body round, in color spotted, like 
 The sky when snowflakes start toward the earth. 
 * Buck-ague' seized good Rover in the joints, 
 And with his paw uplifted, pointed to 
 The fawn, as if to say, ' See ! there's your chance ! ' 
 I shook my head. He then, as if afraid 
 The fawn would see his moving form, crept on 
 His haunches to my guu, and placing his 
 Right paw upon it, gave a low, deep whine, 
 With look surprised at my indifference. 
 I shook my head again, when he did growl, 
 And muttering rage, essayed to catch the fawn, 
 Which nimbled off in graceful leaps and bounds 
 


34 POEMS OF LOVE AND PHILOSOPHY. 
 
 That measured land beyond my view before 
 Poor Rover reached the running stream. 
 
 " With not a cloud the jeweled day wore on — 
 The sun had traveled in his car of state 
 Across the sky, and now was looking at 
 Me through a passing ray that hung upon 
 His upper limb as sentinel to call 
 The busy world to evening vespers, when 
 There came in view a fox with tired pace, 
 And running thwart the vale, there followed it 
 A sable bear, full tilt, with jolting jumps, 
 As if possessed to have a dinner ere 
 The night should flood with darkness all the world. 
 My gun lay handy by and ere the cub 
 Of Bruin bounced his prey, a shot rang out 
 And brought the king of Urns to the ground. 
 Before I reached its side old Eover ran 
 Ahead and putting forth his paws upon 
 The beast did laugh with lolling tongue and in 
 His ej^es there seemed to be a passing thought 
 That plainly said, ' I do forgive you for 
 The fawn you spared, for now we have, in truth, 
 The better game to feast upon.' 
 No hunter ever bagged a finer prize ; 
 His hide ran slip'ry with the oozing oil 
 Before its final severance from spine 
 And flaking fats, that made its form appear 
 Like some prime log, rolled from the hills when snow& 
 Of winter feel at heart a gentle thaw. 
 Sweet steaks and spitted ribs and spicy stews, 
 With watercress and baker's bread brought from 
 The town, surpassed, it seemed, King Arthur's fare, 
 In olden time, when skins were clothes, and men 
 Of greatest estate sat by ' the table round,' 
 


THE hermit's home. 35 
 
 In converse of the chase, with mountain goat 
 And venison haunches piled to make the feast. 
 


Canto VI. 
 
 " For three days longer lived we iu this fair 
 Abode of rest, where selfish man has not 
 Essayed to take God's beauty from the earth 
 That lucre might accrue to lust of wealth. 
 These days were as a balm to me, mind-sore 
 And harrowed to the heart with false conceits 
 And ruined hopes, blank with uncertainty. 
 Each amber evening, with its crescent moon 
 And star-lit canopy, brought back the hum 
 Of insect life, the sound of rustling leaves. 
 The qualking, forked-tongue crow, with echoes from 
 The sad-mood whip-poor-will and nightingale's 
 Consoling notes of sweetest melody. 
 Perhaps it was ordained that each should take 
 His chalice brimmed with gall, to learn him of 
 His littleness and cleanse his midget soul 
 Of selfish ways and struts ungainly made. 
 
 '' 'Twas on a Sabbath morning, such as must 
 Appear iu Paradise, where flow in peace 
 The limpid streams with verdant slopes through zones 
 Of stately cedars, topped with mellow light 
 From golden suns, steadfast in purpose to 
 Dispel the shadows lingering iu the woods. 
 That we essayed to leave the charming vale. 
 With bear meat jerked, and hardtack left, some ham 
 And condiments, with all our camping traps, 
 We buckled on stout Sanger for a start. 
 
 " Still sore in memory for all I'd left 
 Behind — fond friends, and many talismans 
 
 36 
 


THE hermit's home. 37 
 
 Of hope, with saddened soul and heart oppressed, 
 
 And mind iu stagger with the hard resolve 
 
 To brave the wilderness and arid plains, 
 
 Least common to the haunts of men, to go — 
 
 I knew not where — perhaps to distant shores 
 
 That border on the Occidental sea. 
 
 I made the mount and gathering up the rein 
 
 For early start. To my surprise I did 
 
 Observe a wood lark hopping up among 
 
 The branches of a blooming hawthorn tree, 
 
 Not twenty steps away, and when he'd reached 
 
 The topmost bough I noted that he had 
 
 A broken wing, that limp and sore hung from 
 
 His shoulder blade. A moment's rest, and then 
 
 "With chirp and underwarble, seemingly 
 
 To set his tune, commenced a song of praise 
 
 So deep and soul-enchanting that I sat 
 
 Like one delayed by messenger from Him 
 
 Who seemeth to have given cadence to 
 
 The warbling bird to soothe the fevered brow 
 
 Of care and fan to life and sparks of flame 
 
 Hope's dying embers in the troubled heart. 
 
 "The silver, laughing stream, the solemn woods, 
 
 The echoes from the hills, seemed drinking in 
 
 The glory of that tender song, as if 
 
 ' Amens,' were breathing from them all. 
 
 I blessed that lame-winged lark that did forget 
 
 Its own distress in that sweet hour when 
 
 The lifting sun told of the Infinite, 
 
 Who sanctifies the pure in heart and lifts 
 
 Toward the upper world the aspiration in 
 
 A song of gentleness and praise. 
 
 " Consoled and comforted by that sweet song, 
 
 Like ^neas, son of Ancheses, sore in mind 
 


38 POEMS OF LOVE AND PHILOSOPHY. 
 
 With sable hopes, faced westward from the site 
 
 And ashes of Old Ilium, seeking some 
 
 Asylum far beyond his ruined home, 
 
 We sped our way through pathless woods, deep glen 
 
 And coves, across the trails of man and beast, 
 
 High hills, green vales and dreary waste, where skipped 
 
 The deer and blear-eyed hare through stinted sage, 
 
 Sore pressed for drink and substance on the plain, — 
 
 Some day, perhaps, to bloom as does the rose 
 
 When water comes and tillage takes the lead. 
 
 When happy homes shall dot the land, as does 
 
 The whitecaps line the mighty sea. 
 
 " Then on and on, and up the mountain's slopes. 
 And on by crags and peaks that seem to hold 
 The upper world above the azure vault 
 Of famous Lebanou, and on the slopes 
 And levels down below great cedars grow ; 
 Where mountain daisy, primrose and the crocus 
 Intervening, seemingly, that fair 
 And gentle nature in her grandest courts 
 Is ever anxious to display her love 
 And care of all things beautiful. 
 
 " We paused to rest and worship in these woods, 
 In grandeur nearest God of any land. 
 Left on the earth, unknown and scant explored. 
 Then on and on we moved by narrow trail, 
 Unkept, and winding down the mountain side. 
 Through ancient groves and dells, by singing streams, 
 Until the rolling hills and sunny plains 
 That stretch to westward, lost in haze, beside 
 The sunset sea, fell on my vision like 
 A fairyland, or Tadmor where the palms 
 Spread forth their leaves, inviting to the shade. 
 
 • ' Wearied with three moons of lonely tramp, 
 


THE hermit's home. 39 
 
 Through every phase of scene and varied clime. 
 At last we found a little, laughing vale, 
 With western outlook on the shining sea, 
 In length a league and scarce one-half as much 
 In width, with soil as rich as skirts the Nile, 
 And climate unsurpassed upon the earth ; 
 Fine clumps of oak, as if on guard were placed 
 About the vale, while here and there through all 
 Its length stood single sentinels and some 
 That seemed relieved of duty for the time. 
 And tattled, two or three together in 
 A place, like busybodies do who have 
 Some scandal to report, in whisper or 
 In pantomime. 
 
 " A limpid stream ran near 
 The southern verge of this fair land and on 
 Its brink stood willows weeping, alders bright 
 Of trunk and limb, and frequently a clump 
 Of hazel wood and hawthorn thickets, 
 Intervening with wild roses rare. 
 
 " Just beyond the southern line of this 
 Bright stream, as if designed by nature for 
 A terrace, rose a splendid hill that stretched 
 The valley's length from east to west, and on 
 It stood in clusters and alone, bull pine, 
 Small roble oaks, some laurel wood and oft 
 A sturdy cedar cone, while from the earth 
 Beneath their shade, grew labyrinths of ferns, 
 Blackberry vines and yellow crocus bloom. 
 This conditioned growth extended round 
 The valley's head and margined on the rocks 
 And rough-hewn hills that bound it on the north, 
 While on the west the sapphire sea complains 
 Of winds and ever-changing of the moon 
 


40 POEMS OF LOVE AND PHILOSOPHY. 
 
 That keep her whitecaps always on the run. 
 
 "This trouble, like a spirit never free, 
 Moves up her tides and surf upon the shore 
 To breast and mingle with the shining sand, 
 And in the sound there seems a requiem 
 For all the slumbering dead that line her depths. 
 Just midway of the vale from east to west, 
 And on the northern side and running up 
 And down the stream full half a mile, 
 Then at angles right across the plain, 
 The lines extending past a little bench, 
 Then higher up among the spurs and cliffs, 
 Where hazel, alder wood and scrubby pines 
 Glean scanty substance from decaying shale 
 And mould of withering herbs and fallen leaves, 
 I purchased, of pre-empter, for abode. 
 
 " Each quarter-section in this sunny vale 
 Was entered for a home, improved and had 
 Its thrifty habitance, who raised some corn, 
 A little wheat, some stock that grazed upon 
 The hills, with garden rich in succulents 
 And door-yard flowers most profusely grown. 
 
 " A schoolhouse, white, upon a little hill, 
 A union church nearby all dressed in brown, 
 With squatty belfry struggling from its top, 
 And gothic gables, friezed in snowy white ; 
 With market-place and trading-post across 
 The hills to southward, twenty miles away, 
 Made up the features of this sunny clime. 
 


Cakto VII. 
 
 " Here in this vale, upon the plot of land 
 Before outlined, we did, in faith, essay- 
 To build a home ; that is to say, myself. 
 Old Rover, lame from his long walk, and my 
 Good steed, then lank and lean from overwork 
 In dunnage packing, plain and mountain 
 Crossing, often stinted in his rations 
 Down to fennels, greasewood and white sage. 
 
 "They helped me build the house? Be sure they did. 
 The long, slim pines I felled upon the slopes 
 And cut in lengths to form the walls. Fast to 
 A chain about one end of each peeled pole 
 I hitched my noble horse and with a snort 
 At starting, snaked them to the spot I had 
 Selected for the slipper3^ round-logged cot. 
 
 "And when the logs had pushed their noses through 
 The hillside shale to reach the chosen site, 
 With smaller skints, neat skinned for ridge pole and 
 For rafters, shakes for roof and puncheons for 
 A floor, split from a stately sugar pine. 
 Were all upon the ground — a bench of land 
 Some forty feet above the level plain — 
 Where growth of oak and alder sparsely stood. 
 
 " Southward set I there my cabin's face 
 That overlooked the prospect of the vale, 
 While to the west full half a league away, 
 Obscured in distance by some spreading trees, 
 The ocean gleamed at every setting sun, 
 Like robes imagined for Divinity. 
 
 41 
 


42 POEMS OF LOVE AND PHILOSOPHY. 
 
 The work commenced, thereon I hinged my thoughts, 
 With aids, old Rover and my sturdy steed. 
 Advancement seemed forever manifest. 
 
 " How did these animals help on the work? 
 Good Rover learned to know the name of nail, 
 Of hammer, saw and chisel, too, a shake. 
 Or square or spirit level, so I had 
 No other care than name the thing I wished, 
 And it would come between his teeth, and when 
 The job was full in hand his schooling seemed 
 So well engraven on a thoughtful mind 
 That he was ever on the watch to give 
 His aid upon the ground, or high above, 
 Where leaned the willow ladder on the wall. 
 Up which he went as nimble-footed as 
 An urchin climbing for the fun of it. 
 
 " When after all the skill we did possess 
 And after weeks of steady toil, the house 
 Stood prim and trim, good Sanger, sleek 
 With leisure and fair feeding on the green 
 Bunch grass of hill and clover on the plain, 
 Came up of sturdy step to view the work. 
 
 " With Rover, round and round the house we went, 
 As if inspectors of a castle built 
 For prince, or magnate of some sugar trust. 
 We all were proud of it. The corners matched 
 So closely that the logs hung not an inch 
 Apart, and chinked with strips of pine and lime 
 Made on the ground. The roof, third pitch of shakes, 
 Half lapped, with eaves and gables well projecting, 
 Door and windows on the southern part. 
 Out-letting on a little rustic porch. 
 
 " The north wall held a chimney made of stone, 
 With jams and arch and hearth of diorite, 
 


THE hermit's home. 43 
 
 Or something like it, hewn from quarry on 
 The hill. Then on the East, a cosy place 
 For kitchen, built with window and a door, 
 The well-hewn puncheon floor fit snug and well. 
 With ceiling overhead of like account. 
 
 " When I and Rover went within to look 
 About, old Sanger stood with blear eyes in 
 The door and whinnied at our leaving him 
 Without, and seemed concerned to know what we 
 Proposed on his account, as shelter from 
 The winter storms that sat foreboding in 
 The north. The hint, so plainly given, struck 
 Me with the thought that stable nigh we'd build, 
 Near where a weeping willow stood, some rods 
 Away, prime west nor'west the compass marked. 
 And there it stands, constructed chiefly of 
 The remnants left in putting up the house. 
 
 " A spring of crystal water welled up from 
 A crevice in a ledge of stone that formed 
 For it a little basin, shaded by 
 A green bay tree that manifestly 
 Measured years by centuries. 
 In all the work we did, our neighbors seemed 
 Most kind and affable and often lent 
 A helping hand, as if in token of 
 Regard, which signifies in all the world, 
 Where soul and sense commune that kind is one. 
 And common to us all, as grow and bloom 
 The crowning roses, red and yellow gold, 
 That grow in strength the more we nurture them. 
 
 * ' If kindred we are, then should kindness lead 
 The way to better things, as toils in pain 
 The homeward bound, with hand extending help 
 To some poor, weary brother on the way, 
 


44 POEMS OF LOVE AND PHILOSOPHY. 
 
 And pointing to the blessed abode above. 
 
 " So when the task of building grew complete, 
 October's strides had reached half-way his span, 
 And as he passed, the leaves upon the trees 
 Began to pale with fear, for well they knew 
 The north wind, howling in the rugged hills, 
 Betokened them no good or recompense 
 For all the glory they had given to 
 The early spring and summer's cooling shade, 
 Where parching thirst and heat can never come. 
 
 " And now when all this lovely angel work 
 Is hardly done, their dirge is being sung 
 By dreary Boreas in northern climes. 
 In blend with mournful whisper of the pines, 
 That sing as does the ever-troubled sea. 
 The requiem of all its strangled dead. 
 And thus it is with everything that lives — 
 Each has its day and dying disappears — 
 While memory forgets their resting place 
 In rush for phantasies that give no rest. 
 
 " The later fall and winter spent we in 
 Attempt to clear a field of scattering brush 
 And drooping limbs that lankly hung about 
 The spreading oaks, which seemed in strength to hold 
 The valley down in place and annually, 
 Like Ammon, with a lavish hand, upon 
 The earth does scatter brown and lusty nuts, 
 Which long-nosed chuk and herds grow fat upon. 
 
 "And when relieved of growth superfluous. 
 Old Sanger fat and favored by his rest 
 And choice of feed, was in new harness hitched 
 Unto a shining plow, and with my guide. 
 The rich, brown soil, surprised in its long sleep. 
 Rolled from the mould, dark lap on lap, 
 


THE HERMIT S HOME. 45 
 
 Like ridging breakers on a sandy shore. 
 
 " Some spelts and wheat we sowed, and later on, 
 When spring, with belt of green and budding robes, 
 We planted corn, and then a garden, fenced 
 With pickets split upon the hills; we set 
 And seeded many rows and many kinds 
 Of succulents, with sage and flower plants 
 In plots, on curves and circles near the house, 
 
 " And ere the lovely Queen of spring, in faith, 
 Had finished arbors for the summer's heat. 
 In woodland and along the shining streams. 
 The fields were green with waving grain that gave 
 Great promise, when appeared the harvest moon, 
 And laughed while drinking morning dew and warmth 
 That came as heralds from the rising sun, 
 While blooming flowers nodded as I passed 
 About my little home, as if to say, 
 
 " ' We came to thee as fragrant breath from God, 
 That in thy troubles thou shalt not forget. 
 With us, to bless the hand that made us all.' 
 The ocean shore was oft my rambling ground. 
 With Rover, in the lead, we traced it u}) 
 And down a hundred times, on hunt of shell 
 And shining pebbles scattered on the sand. 
 
 " We bathed within the rush of rolling surf, 
 And oft when standing out so far as safe, 
 A slick I'd hurl out on the ridging sea, 
 When Rover, watching every act, would bound 
 In after with a yell, and swimming, float 
 Upon the surf, until the prize secured. 
 Returned it to me with a laughing look 
 That wisely said, ' I dare, in faith, to go 
 Where ever you can throw beyond your depth, 
 


46 POEMS OF LOVE AND PHILOSOPHY. 
 
 Out in the booming sea and with much ease 
 Will gladly bring the stick or token back.' 
 


Canto VIII. 
 
 " Sometimes the brimming ocean seemed in great 
 Distress, as if in lamentation of 
 A brewing storm, with haze and scudding clouds, 
 And guffs and swells that preface lifting winds, 
 Which gulf great ships and monsoon all the seas, 
 That throb with luming heat in tropic climes 
 Where winter never comes with icy hand. 
 
 " Living thus, in peace, untrammeled by 
 The busy world, two years and more, of time 
 Sped past on golden wings; yet sore in heart 
 I was, with depth of wound that seldom heals. 
 Then came a sudden change, so mingled in 
 With sunshine and with shadow that my life 
 For thirty years has been like one who dreams, 
 Then wakes from troubled sleep and turning on 
 His pillow but to dream again. 
 In all those years my soul has traveled with 
 My heart and mind from pinnacles of bliss 
 To depths of woe that leads infinity. 
 
 '* I know not why it was, no human tongue 
 Can tell. It seems to me a link of fate 
 To fate so strange, I have no name for it, 
 The fringing event of this stranger tale 
 Came arm in arm with one foul April day 
 That set the giant trees to swinging like 
 So many brittle reeds, that splitting fall 
 In every gust and adverse wind that blows. 
 
 " It was a day so fierce that all the hills 
 Seemed breaking up; the pines and sturdy oaks 
 Lost all their dignity, their groaning trunks 
 
 47 
 


48 POEMS OF LOVE AND PHILOSOPHY. 
 
 And twisting tops forgot composure in 
 
 The fearful gale that howled through wood and plain 
 
 Like demons loosened from the under world. 
 
 " In this array of force that seemed to rock 
 The adamantive hills and set at naught 
 Great nature's equipoise, I heard a call, — 
 It seemed to come up from the ocean, miles 
 Away, — ' Don't laugh!' The superstitions of 
 The world are based on facts, deep-hidden from 
 The common mind, that in its ignorance 
 Of what the womb of nature holds, sets up 
 For truth the strangest phantasies. 
 
 " It may be thus with me in this affair, 
 But then we know there are experiences. 
 Most numerous, that clearly indicate 
 There's soul force over soul that travels with 
 The wind and makes impressions truthful when 
 Great sorrow sways the sympathetic mind. 
 
 " But be this as it may, at all events 
 The call I seemed to hear took hold on me 
 With force so potent and surprising that 
 From playing with my dog I moved toward 
 The door and op'ning it I heard the call 
 Again above the roaring tempest, then 
 A little later wailings as from one 
 Who has set hope aside and hovers on 
 The brink of death. Th-ere could be no mistake. 
 It was distress engulfed in floods of foam 
 And breaking waves upon the cruel sea. 
 Abandoned, seemingly, by God and man. 
 I felt constrained to go; impelled like one 
 By fate decreed. I closed the door, my teeth 
 Were set like th-ose of some good soldier called 
 To fill a breach, death-lined with noljle men. 
 


THE hermit's home. 49 
 
 With Rover at my side, we faced the storm. 
 The weeping willow shelt'ring Sanger's stall 
 Had lost its footing and lay twisted up, 
 Prone on the earth like Alegone in throes 
 Of death stretched out beside the iH-imming tide. 
 
 " My trusty horse, half frightened by the storm 
 Was quickly buckled to the sturdy cart 
 And while I plied the strappings, traces, bit 
 And lines, old Sanger surely seemed to know 
 That some wild ride was starting from the slips. 
 And Rover, stricken dumb at such display 
 Of madness on my part, stood by the rig 
 AVith flaring eyes, and ears erect, but when 
 The start was made he ran ahead, as if 
 Full conscious that the trouble was upon 
 The swiftly running sea or foaming surf — 
 Death laden, cold and pitiless. 
 
 " It was a fearful ride, the howling wind 
 Stood dead ahead; the swaying oaks that lined 
 The vale groaned under their uncommon load. 
 And giant limbs long used to angry storms. 
 With grinding wail fell prone upon the ground. 
 The lowing herds in peaceful pasture caught 
 Infection from the mighty wind and pressed 
 By falling trees, tore through the fences like 
 The Bison in his maddened flight to reach 
 A shelter from the howling elements. 
 No whip was needful on old Sanger's sides, 
 From start to finish he was on the run. 
 As when a stag with hounds and horn behind 
 Disdains the earth and seems to fly with wings 
 More potent than possessed the sacred bulls 
 That lined Egyptian labyrinths. 
 
 " So wild we went the surf was soon at hand, 
 


50 POEMS OF LOVE AND PHILOSOPHY. 
 
 In looking seaward we beheld, far off, 
 
 A vessel black, with rigging gone, high on 
 
 A mountain wave, and then as phantom of 
 
 The sight she disappeared, to rise no more. 
 
 Left, there was no sign of living thing. 
 
 Black desolation held dominion there. 
 
 And laughed to scorn the prowess of the world. 
 
 " While yet I peered out on the blinding storm 
 There seemed to me, tossed on the running surf, 
 A tiny speck of something more than foam, 
 Slow sinking out of sight, then on a crest 
 Would rise again a little more distinct. 
 A few more times it rose and fell like gauze, 
 Or wrap of red, light bordered for a skirt; 
 It seemed to come in with the drifting tide 
 And then an undertow would take it back 
 Apace, a little dainty garment surely it 
 Appeared, with some frail form enclosed, 
 Perhaps an hundred yards from where the surf 
 Beat on the sandy shore, with butting froth 
 Of chopping waves and foaming eddy whirls. 
 0, Destiny that rides the blinding storm! 
 Where is thy pity for the dead thou hast 
 Entombed? Suspense was agony to me. 
 
 " I grasped the dog, his fore arms in my hands, 
 And standing up erect, I pointed to 
 The object sought and with kind words set on — 
 A gleam of soul ran through his eyes, — he saw 
 The apparition and with consciousness 
 Of what I Avished, spring out upon the flood 
 And like a mariner who dares to die 
 When duty calls, he struck the running tide 
 With might that seemed prodigious for a dog. 
 
 " He neither turned to right or left, but fought 
 


THE hermit's home. 51 
 
 Through surf and foam, as one in duty bound 
 
 To save the lost and shame old Anuhis. 
 
 At last he reached the form and right about 
 
 Set out for shore again; with back to back 
 
 He came, with head run through the apron strings, 
 
 His burthen's front above the lapping foam. 
 
 I met him in the tide, full to my waist, 
 
 And bracing, held steadfast from undertow. 
 
 While surf at times ran high above my head. 
 
 " Thus poised unsteadily, I lent the dog 
 A helping hand in his distress, which was 
 So great, that never could he, living, 
 Reached the land. A little nearer then 
 I gathered up the form and wading out. 
 There laid my charge upon the gleaming sand, 
 A form so fair and sweet I never had beheld, 
 A face in model Greek, long golden hair. 
 Small hands and feet with tiny slippers on, 
 A scarlet cashmere waist and dainty skirt 
 Of opal colored silk. The form, in age. 
 Was surely not beyond its early teens. 
 
 " The life seemed gone, and that distracted nie. 
 How sweet and beautiful she seemed in death! 
 0, lashing waters, waste of some great flood 
 Poured on the w^orld to sate the wrath of God, 
 Display your might; in foaming caverns dwell, 
 And bellow with your threats of booming hell. 
 Was it an everlasting sleep? Or was 
 There yet a chance of rescue from the grave? 
 
 " At this I fell upon my knees and set 
 To chaffing, kneading, rolling, as if fate 
 Had held in his slender balance hope delayed. 
 At little brandy poured upon the lips 
 Set death to doubting his supremacy; 
 


52 POEMS OF LOVE AND PHILOSOPHY. 
 
 A tremor ran through all the lovely frame, 
 Then with a wrenching gasp the bosom heaved, 
 A gurgling sound of water running from 
 The mouth; then eame the breath in agony 
 Of utterance, like some poor soul long held 
 In comatose. She lived! And soon her large 
 Brown eyes were opened full ujjon my face. 
 Her respiration grew more regular, 
 And then she said composedly, in. lute 
 Like tone, but hardly audil^le, ' Why am 
 I resting here and where are now my friends?' 
 She spoke a tongue I had not heard for years, 
 But still I did essay direct reply. 
 Eehearsing all I knew and how I found her in 
 The flood and how old Rover rescued her. 
 She seemed delighted with the dog and put 
 Her arms about his neck so lovingly 
 That Rover, hoping he had made a friend. 
 Did lick her smiling face like one who claims 
 A valid right to do as much. 
 
 " Hastily I wrapped my buggy robes 
 About the shivering form and placing it 
 Snugly in the shay, I mounted by her side. 
 Then giving Sanger ample rein, we ran 
 Like Atalanta leading Hippomenes. 
 Up through the vale we flew before the wind. 
 For full I realized that, soaked and chilled 
 Through to the bone, Atropos lingered near. 
 With lifted hand to cut the thread of life. 
 
 " At this uncommon sj^eed we reached the home 
 Of Lulu Wanna, wife of Bonadena, 
 Late of Italia, refined and lovable. 
 With ample room and comfortable. 
 The husband met us at the wicker gate, 
 


THE hermit's home. 53 
 
 The front of an enclosure, flower blown, 
 
 And when we went into the house with her 
 
 Poor, little, helpless form, chilled through and through, 
 
 From washing of the sea, the lovely wife, 
 
 A bonny bit of wit and woman's heart, 
 
 Stood dumb a moment watching what we brought. 
 
 And then the pity of it melted down 
 
 Her eyes and with a mother's love she bent 
 
 And kissed the cold, blue lips and laying off 
 
 The robe, glib felt about the tender limbs. 
 
 And in a moment realizing that 
 
 The greatest haste was all that lay between 
 
 The girl and death, she gathered up the gem 
 
 As if a babe, and ere the story could 
 
 Be told, had placed the flower in a bath 
 
 Of water, warmed, to make a ruddy glow ; 
 
 Then rubbed and dressed in dry, warm clothes, 
 
 And tucked in bed with sips of steaming tea, 
 
 The little waif went off to sleep, like one 
 
 In swoon and weary with fatigue. 
 
 " For days grim specters of the shadowland 
 Seemed in the air of that sweet tenement. 
 A fever raged within the blood of that 
 Fair stranger in a stranger land. Her tongue 
 Made mellow sounds between a sob, a sigh. 
 Or song, delirious in her present woe. 
 Like Sappho hanging on Lucadian rim 
 In sorrow for her faithless Mytilene. 
 Hardly could I leave the house, for through 
 The rage of her delirium, were times 
 When came a word that told of want and I 
 Alone, of all the vale, could understand 
 A thing she said. The climax came at last. 
 
 " The doctor shook his head, but deigned to say, 
 


54 POEMS OF LOVE AND PHILOSOPHY. 
 
 ' An hour will decide her fate.' It seemed 
 
 To me a soul so truly beautiful 
 
 Should never die if destiny had linked 
 
 The fairest forms Avith immortality. 
 
 Passing strange and indefinable 
 
 Is human sympathy, it surely is 
 
 A touch transmitted from Divinity, 
 
 A glint, a spark of soul force, ray of light, 
 
 That strikes deep-seated at a glance and burns 
 
 Like vestal fire through eternity. 
 
 It is uncommon surely, but it comes 
 
 Sometimes in life to every soul, as comes 
 
 The morning light before the lifting sun. 
 
 " How small does grow the vanity of man 
 When life and death hang in the balance by 
 A hair and human aid stands powerless 
 To give a helping hand to those we love. 
 The recompense of such an hour comes 
 To him who hath the soul to see that all 
 Of life is like a fitful song with smiles 
 And tears, in which the notes are memories 
 Of sweets and sorrows passed and dint of hope 
 For happy time to come, with consciousness 
 Of mind and heart each day hath record there 
 Of all the jewels we have gathered here. 
 And all the ills our deeds have shadowed forth, 
 And that the crucible of conscience, 
 Ever silently is burning out the dross 
 Of every act and thought that's selfish or 
 Untrue, and slowly gathering up the gems 
 Discovered for the settings of a crown 
 And refuse black for torment for the damned. 
 
 " Didst ever thou, with fear and breath abate, 
 Behold the night at noonday, when the sun 
 


THE hermit's home. 55 
 
 Had shadowed all his face, and thought perhaps, 
 
 He might not shine again upon the earth? 
 
 And how you had to hold your heart when glimpse 
 
 The coming day broke by the moon's dark disk? 
 
 This may compare, as does a river to 
 
 A sickly stream, the feeling that was mine, 
 
 When light came back into her loving eyes. 
 
 " The angel ministry that brought her form 
 To life again, with hoi3e of many years, 
 Turned all that household in happy tears, 
 Father, mother, Janie, ten, most fair. 
 And Robbie, seven, was the baby there. 
 


Canto IX. 
 
 " Great ocean canst thou not assuage thy thirst 
 To toss such beauty on thy rolling ribs, 
 And take so many to thy caverns down 
 And Avrap in seaweed, there to rock 
 Forever in thy cradles, as you sing 
 The mournful dirge of human destiny? 
 I grieve with thee. But then it may be for 
 The best, as He who made it never made 
 A thing in vain, though oft it seemeth so. 
 *' Without the ocean every living thing 
 Upon the globe w^ould die ; the rivers in 
 Their beds go dry; the streamlets cease to run; 
 The seasons fail, and famine, pale, possess 
 The earth as Bores does the desert sands.. 
 
 " Compared with this array of nature's force 
 Poor human strength seems frail indeed; but then 
 The consolation is, inspired hope 
 That all is well with those who dare to do 
 The right and strive, in faith, to reach the rest. 
 Where darkness never comes, Avhere morning spans 
 The day and praise possess the lips of all 
 The tribes that ever lived upon the earth. 
 
 '' No, no, my friend, don't blame the sea. It might 
 Have been as placid as a mirror's face. 
 The howling winds would leave her robes 
 Alone, her bosom heave no more, no sigh 
 Would come from cresting swells, nor surf 
 Break on the yellow sand. But then, if all 
 The winds were gone, what would the sailor do? 
 Where drift his argoses that glibly skim, 
 
 56 
 


THE hermit's home. 57 
 
 Unharmed, the blue-robed bosom of the deep, 
 Like swans that hurry to some distant port? 
 
 " The gulfs and bays grow black in their decay. 
 Stagnation stands on land and sea and shoal 
 In grimy winding sheets, Avith laughing hell 
 Close down upon a ruined world — the curse 
 Of God and seal of death forevermore. 
 
 " No, no, we cannot blame the sea, nor sun, 
 Nor driving winds. They have their uses on 
 The earth ordained for them — a part of that 
 Great purpose in design of Him who made 
 All things to move in harmony with laws 
 Immutable to their appointed end. 
 
 " But to return from this innate review. 
 As rosebuds fresh renewed by gentle rains 
 And May day suns, with watchful care the waif 
 Grew into health again, and as she grew 
 In strength of form, she grew as well in strength 
 Of mind, and depth of noble soul sat on 
 Her face, that from her winsome smiles and large 
 Brown eyes enveloped all the house with charm, 
 So sweet and gentle; those who came to see 
 The gem and hear her silver, ringing, lute 
 Like tongue, did seem enchanted by the spell, 
 Imposed, with overflowing hearts of praise. 
 As does sweet canthies run when pressed 
 From ivy buds, and when they went away 
 Would come again, like bees released from nighty 
 Fly to the sunny vales and nectar sip 
 From running roses and the lilac bloom, 
 Or as the children gaily tramp the hills 
 And dells in search of nuts and honey due, 
 
 " Three months had passed since her recovery, 
 The early summer, dressed in robes of green 
 


58 POEMS OF LOVE AND PHILOSOPHY. 
 
 And gold, smiled in her beauty in the vale, 
 
 The fields of waving grain and growing corn 
 
 Held forth their praise to Him who made them all, 
 
 And every garden, dell and hillside seemed 
 
 To vie with neighbor in fair rivalry 
 
 In richness of adornment, when I chanced 
 
 To meet the winsome miss, some distance down 
 
 The laughing stream, with apron full of buds 
 
 And dainty flowerets she had, with care. 
 
 Secured, wild growing in the blooming woods. 
 
 . " She greeted me with smile that seemed to take 
 The gentle beauty of the posies on. 
 We paused and sat upon the sloping bank 
 Of that fair stream where tufts of velvet grass 
 Seemed to invite sweet converse and repose. 
 The trees stood silent auditors and all 
 Their leaves, gold-tinted by the setting sun. 
 Were shimmering as moved the gentle breeze. 
 
 " Some random gossip ran between us for 
 A time, and after pause, I gently said, 
 ' Nenona, you have wonderfully 
 Improved since first you came among us some 
 Few months ago, and yet in all that time 
 I've learned so little of your past, that now 
 I know no more than when we met, of who 
 You are and whence you came, except your name. 
 And yet my interest in your life is such. 
 That nothing more concerns me than to learn 
 Your antecedent history, as you. 
 From memory may please to give it me.' 
 
 " At this strong hint of inquiry she seemed 
 Oppressed. Her beaming face turned into one 
 Of sadness, and the tears slipped from her eyes 
 Down through her silken lashes like pearl drops, 
 


THE hermit's home. 59 
 
 And dripping undisturl)ed from burning cheeks. 
 Thus seeing her distress I sought recall 
 Of my request, and make amends for what 
 Might seem to her, in measure, something rude. 
 
 " She answered not, but sat like one unstrung, 
 And lost in deepest reverie, as when 
 The ring of Sakasntala lost, she could 
 But grieve alone in her divine retreat. 
 Her thoughtful brow, in depth and stretch surprised 
 My gaze, as something wonderful in one 
 So young. Composure came at last as on 
 A pool of water, light disturbed 
 By pebble dropped upon its placid face, 
 And then she said unsteadily, ' I beg 
 Indulgence for this little show of grief. 
 That came as does a passing cloud before 
 The morning sun. The deepest sorrow oft 
 Is memory of blessings gone, and thoughts 
 Of those we loved who were, but now are not. 
 
 " ' I should have told you what you now request, 
 Long ere this, but heartache held m}^ tongue, 
 As hush holds down the pulse at mention of 
 Calamity, but then, if you will deign 
 To now and then, forgive a tear, pressed out 
 Mine eyes in this recital of the past, 
 I will proceed; perhaps you may have had 
 Some sorrows in your time as well: 
 
 " ' 'Tis now a little more that fourteen years 
 Since first I saw the light on Lesbos, near 
 The city of sweet Mitylene. By birth, 
 My father was a Greek, with records of 
 An ancestry that ran into the mist 
 Of time; while mother was, by race and blood, 
 Aoelian. Its tribal settlement 
 


60 POEMS OF LOVE AND PHILOSOPHY. 
 
 Occurring on the Isle, ere Homer wrote 
 
 The Iliad, and Troy's ruin was 
 
 New history that liad no record but 
 
 In memory of living men who in 
 
 The groves and schools of lovely Mitylene, 
 
 Culoni and Molivo, told Avith much 
 
 Parade the sights they saw, while yet the gods 
 
 Of great Olympus urged the bloody fight. 
 
 " ' A brother had I older that myself 
 By seven years. And after one decade 
 Of life had passed, in all the beauty of 
 My home, surrounded by fair, wooded hills. 
 Broad fields of purple vine and olive groves. 
 That baffled time in steady growth, and reach 
 Across so many centuries. 
 My father oft, for change of scene and weal 
 Of learning Athens offered those he loved. 
 Would man his skipper, always moored secure 
 In little inlet near the home, that made 
 An eye of Port Culoni; thence with all 
 The household, sail across fair ^gean. 
 Seldom ruffing more her placid face 
 Than Avhen the waving grain bows welcome to 
 Aeotus moving on a summer dav. 
 


Canto X. 
 
 " ' The way was tine, we passed sweet Peara, 
 Round Cape Doro, through the inlet 
 Facing Hymethus, curving northward up 
 The channel to old Athens. 
 Those days now seem as dreams to me wherein 
 I held a golden horn, and from it poured 
 Unstinted bliss of fairest destiny. 
 The choice of everything came at request. 
 But most of all our parents were concerned 
 That we sliould have the l)est of training 
 Mentally, with social roundings that 
 Would cull the rough, uncanny growth of youth, 
 And set with plants the garden of our lives, 
 Untainted by the Upas; neither decked 
 With gaudy bloom of hot house cereus, 
 Which in a single night does open out 
 The glory of its heart, and withers ere 
 The gray of dawn appears; but rather plants 
 Of amaranth and anemone, with here 
 And there the myrtle bloom, sweet jasmine and 
 Pathway borders lined with violets. 
 
 " ' No stufhng process was desired. 
 As when slim pigs are cramped into a sty; 
 But rather, as pure streams that trickle in 
 A silver pool, that circling, slowly brims 
 With shining water from the distant hills. 
 My brother learned beyond my depth; had with 
 It all, a nature so reserved that few. 
 Beside myself, could fully understand. 
 He loved the Hellas race as if a part 
 
 61 
 


62 POEMS OF LOVE AND PHILOSOPHY. 
 
 And parcel of himself; would camp alone 
 
 For days about the sunny vales, and with 
 
 His dog and gun inspect the battlefields 
 
 That have in all the centuries since then 
 
 Clothed Attica with sons in which the shades 
 
 Of heroes shine like jewels in a crown. 
 
 No date or name unknown to him, and when 
 
 In Athens I have often seen him stand 
 
 Beside a column of the Parthenon, 
 
 Unmindful of the moving stream of life. 
 
 His heart seemed in the grave with those who built 
 
 It in the infant world. He loved the grand, 
 
 Old masters, and with Plato talk as friend 
 
 To friend about philosophy too deep 
 
 For platitudes to hold an anchorage. 
 
 " ' Conversed, it seems, with that great Stagirite, 
 Who in his exoteric work and depth 
 Of thought, stands like a shining pillar in 
 The dusk and haze of mental growth. 
 Met Solon, lover of sweet Salimis, 
 And solid glory of the ancient Greek, — 
 Who, base and noble equals made before 
 The law, and consecrated Justice stood 
 Well to the front, with even-balanced scale; 
 And Socrates, the searcher after truth 
 And knowledge of himself, when sophistry 
 Stalked thwart the temple door and rode to death 
 Its own surprised absurdities. 
 
 " ' His love was such for Grecian blood 
 That when the Hellans had fierce contest with 
 The Turk, defending Christian creed, he 
 Ran away from home and joined the standard of 
 The Greeks, and then he wrote to me these lines: 
 ' Tell our loving; mother, all thino-s else 
 


THE hermit's home. 63 
 
 May pass away, as dust before the wind, 
 And yet her noble council will, with me, 
 Endure, as precious grains of shining gold 
 That nurture and sustain, when ill betides. 
 And father will, perhaps, forgive my flight 
 To join a contest with the bloody Turk 
 That men may live who dare to worship God. 
 
 " ' As for the nations, Christian-named, 
 That stand, cold-hearted as the polar seas, 
 Unmindful of the common brotherhood 
 Of man, and view a people struggling in 
 Defense of right and human liberty 
 Against a monster of the modern world, 
 Without extending aid or sympathy, — 
 Are but abettors of the damned, in aid 
 Of hell's dominion on the earth, that each 
 May hold secure its many robberies, 
 Without the fear of rupture with the rest. 
 And mark my word, that ripe will come the day 
 When all this ghoulish greed will fester in 
 The rotting flesh of those old cormorants. 
 And desolation feed upon their woe.' 
 
 " ' Poor boy! In heart he had no wish above 
 His country's good; his fight was brief; at last 
 He fell with face toward the bitter foe, 
 And wrapped in colors that he loved so well, 
 Sleeps on a bloody battlefield in Crete. 
 
 " ' My father grieved like one bereft of all 
 Incentive in the teeming strife of men 
 For worldly betterment, and went about 
 His work sad-faced and inconsolable 
 As iEneas for the fair-faced Nisus. 
 
 " ' My mother seemed like one who calmly sits 
 Upon the verge of time and looks beyond 
 


64 POEMS OF LOVE AND PHILOSOPHY. 
 
 For consolation; shadowed hung her life, 
 
 As when the sun in full eclipse hath not 
 
 Expression, other than the shining hreadth 
 
 Of solar soul that margins round the moon's 
 
 Dark border, all was glory left of light 
 
 In her fair face, and those who saw her then 
 
 Had impress of divinity that time 
 
 Could never wear away. I seemed the link 
 
 That bound in tie of earth those two great souls. 
 
 " ' No word nor action did I stint to bridge 
 The chasm of despair on which their feet 
 Seemed merging for untimely fall. While thus 
 Consoling them as best I could, the tears 
 Would often flood ndne eyes in spite of nerve 
 In effort to control them; yet when they 
 would start unbidden, smiles were forced upon 
 My face to shine a rainbow through them. 
 Thus some months in gloom and doubt were passed. 
 Till time, sweet messenger of rest and hope. 
 Dispelled the depth of shadow from our home. 
 
 " ' The Ottoman, austere, cold-blooded in 
 His intercourse with other creeds, held sway 
 In all the avenues of trade in that 
 Fair Isle, and government thereof, as in 
 A vice, and after crushing Greek and friend 
 By butcheries and on the battlefield, 
 We, of that race, bore taunt and ill from them 
 Unceasingly, and justice of the courts. 
 With balance lost, stood on the side of that 
 Unspeakable, and since those creatures knew 
 My brother fought against their standard, 
 Treated us with jeer, dispicably. 
 
 " 'And father, noble-hearted, bore tlie brunt 
 Of their indignities, which turned his face 
 


THE hermit's home. 65 
 
 Against the Turk, as turns despair against 
 The cruel hand that holds the shackels on 
 Distress, and ruined l)y the Ottoman 
 Financiall}^, he did resolve to leave 
 Forever the fair Isle, so long his home, 
 Where Arion and Sappho sung, and seek 
 Seclusion in some foreign clime, and set 
 About, with man}^ friends in like distress. 
 To build a boat, in ^yhich to sail across 
 The seas to find a home in fairyland, 
 Where western suns set in the Orient. 
 
 " ' With some good seamen in the group, who had 
 Seen service for the state, with carpenters 
 Who knew their trade, it was in council, soon 
 Resolved to build a topsail schooner, rigged. 
 Square top, topgallant sail, full fore and aft. 
 With bent of mind to see what could be seen. 
 And hear with ears wide open every sound, 
 From saw-winged cricket croaking on the hearth 
 To calliope that hoarsely sings as pass 
 The packet boats, I never failed to note. 
 The men discussed the building of the ship, 
 And how it should be rigged and what 
 Should be its length and breadth and greatest depth. 
 
 " ' From Mitylene the staunchest timbers came. 
 The seasoned elm, keel and ribs and brace 
 And beam and knees of laurel, tough as teak. 
 With knowledge of my father's grief, the wrongs 
 He'd suffered from the Turk, and gentleness 
 Of soul, bound all my heart to him as twines 
 A tender ivy round a mighty oak. 
 My sympathies were always with his work. 
 Just what he said or looked was law to me. 
 I had no love for surly Ottomen, 
 


66 POEMS OF LOVE AND PHILOSOPHY. 
 
 So, when I passed one anywhere my nose 
 Went up, like some young chipmunk sniffing at 
 The air, when hunter and his wily pack. 
 In circles, Avid'ning, scoured all the wood. 
 
 " * Poor, simple soul! I never seemed to learn 
 That every conqueror of hate or stubborn will 
 Is he who strives to know himself and from 
 The golden scale of justice measure gives 
 For every one received, which makes a mead 
 That's worthy of the name, and for ill-will 
 Search out return of some beneficence. 
 How happy would the lot of man become 
 If we could only pattern after some 
 Old Eskimo, who kills a walrus or 
 A seal, and straightway serving it with all 
 His neighbors, share and share alike, while he 
 Himself with smiling fa»;e, most cheerfully 
 Goes hungry on the morrow. 
 My dear, old mother, sweetest counselor, 
 Did love her children as a lark her young. 
 That limping flutters from her gaping. 
 Blear-eyed brood to lead a danger off. 
 Gave to my active nature latitude. 
 


Canto XI. 
 
 " ' Hedged only by my duty and the 
 Care of self, I rambled in the fields, as do 
 The linnets when the spring is blooming and 
 The heart feels everything to glorify 
 And praise the maker of them all. But when 
 The ship began to grow, and knowing well 
 The purpose of its maker, the current of 
 My life took angle strange. My dolls, so much 
 Beloved in former years, without a tear, 
 Were put in night-clothes and to bed, high in 
 The garret loft, where they, poor things, perhaps 
 Are sleeping yet. The drift and nature of 
 My studies changed, I lost romantic moods. 
 
 " ' Utility unchecked, did stick her nose 
 In everything, and not a ship or boat 
 Which passed the little dock, that did not catch 
 My wary eye observing it ; each mast 
 And spar and flapping sail, their length 
 And breadth were measured in the mind, and there 
 Impressed for future use; I singled out 
 The moorings of each rope, its length, its strength. 
 And purpose in the vessel's full control. 
 The shape of beak and stern, its depth of hold. 
 And breadth of beam, as if a seaman skilled 
 In matters of this kind; perhaps I ruffed 
 The spirit of old Homer, plodding through 
 His works to find the build of Memnon's fleet; 
 What merit had the galleys of the fierce 
 Achilles that was worth the copy of 
 A modern beak, or shape of maintop sail 
 


68 POEMS OF LOVE AND PHILOSOPHY. 
 
 That carries now our richest argosies? 
 
 " ' But in tliis age of mammoth battleships • 
 And merchantmen that stretch their lengtli across 
 The waves at once, the Grecian outfit, 
 Sailing on the placid JEgean sea, 
 Three thousand years ago, seem but as tubs 
 With oar-locks on the sides, compared to those 
 Great whales that plow the mighty oceans like 
 >So many leviathans, gulping up 
 The channel waters as they pass. 
 Well did they serve their aim and disappeared 
 Like phantoms in the mist of time. 
 
 " ' Perhaps those now engaged will pass as well. 
 What then? What ships? What race prevail? 
 O, Destiny! No eye can see beyond 
 Thy veil, and stand we helpless on the brink 
 Of change, as does a mariner at sea, 
 With helm lost, and sails all blown away. 
 Perhaps it's for the best, that trusting souls 
 Should have no view of what is yet to come. 
 
 " ' Three months had vanished since the keel was set, 
 True as a die, from which the little ship 
 Grew into shape, with swelling sides, planked with 
 The best and toughest teak with model set. 
 And painted azure hue, with band and bar 
 And trimmings white, the standard colors of 
 The Greeks; and there she sat in royal state, 
 Like some great duck just ready for a swim; 
 Everything in prime to make the launch. 
 
 " ' I was selected holder of the cren 
 To christen her, and when she moved upon 
 The ways, slow, gaining speed as on she went, 
 Like some uncommon creature, conscious of 
 Her destinv. I broke the bottle on 
 


THE hermit's home. 69 
 
 Her prow, when mixed the foaming wine 
 With foam below, as down it trickled in 
 The deep, as spirit for her future use. 
 
 " * A few more weeks of patient work, and then 
 The boat sat proudly at the little dock, 
 Complete, and seemingly prepared to breast 
 The troubled seas of many climes, and make 
 A voyage distant more than half around 
 The world, in search of lands fair as we left. 
 
 *' ' Soon, supplies were all aboard and back 
 Accounts were settled up; of many friends, 
 With tears, took leave and with our souvenirs 
 We went aboard, with others, making up 
 A score of souls; twelve men, six women and 
 Two girls, and I, the youngest of the clan. 
 
 " With sails all set we slowly moved out in 
 The stream, and down along the northern shore 
 Of Port Culoni, leaving that fair land 
 Forever, home and friends and ties of blood. 
 The sorrow of such partings wound and grieve 
 All loving hearts, which never fully heal. 
 But like all memories sanctified, 
 Imbue the soul as some old melody. 
 Few words were said, each seemed absorbed in thought, 
 No one companioned as the gentle solace 
 Silence gives. The village in sweet coves. 
 The Avaving grain, the meadow green, the corn 
 In bloom, the olive groves, the vine-clad hills 
 Passed by us as a dream of one fatigued 
 Into a gentle sleep. Three leagues and more 
 We measured thus; then turning sharp around 
 A high-browed headland, timber clad, the craft 
 Caught square in rig the swelling wind, and like 
 Some mighty swan, ungainly caged, breaks through 
 


70 POEMS OF LOVE AND PHILOSOPHY. 
 
 Its chafing bars, and with an even wing 
 And widely spread, sails outward to the sea. 
 
 " ' Thus curving on the ^gean, southward. 
 Passing Psara, sweetest Tino, Cycladese, 
 The fairest gem of all the ocean ; Out 
 At Milo, thence to Cerni, through its channel, 
 Touched Correnti, passed Tulada, on 
 The waters of the Adriatic. Thence 
 To channel neck of oceans, on which stand 
 The pillars built by Hercules, whereon 
 He sat, in time uncertain, watching all 
 The world's great shipping; set the winds to fill 
 Its canvas; frowning when he wished to raise 
 A cyclone, scattering the argosies. 
 
 " ' Thence curving southward to Canaries, 
 Once the peaks of mountains in the wide 
 Dominion of Atlanta, sunk before 
 The Arian dwelt upon the plains of Iran, 
 Reckoned deluge of the ancients 
 Sent by Deus as avenger on 
 The race for sin committed, when 
 The flood of old Ducalian came. 
 
 " ' Thence south to Verdes, anchoring at 
 The Porto Praya for supplies, and viewed 
 The belching Fogo, from afar, that runs 
 Its red-hot lava in the sea, the dross 
 Of Vulcan's mightv forges down below. 
 


Canto XII. 
 
 " ' Thence south, a little west, we sailed across 
 The torrid zone, in one great stretch, without 
 A stop, eight hundred leagues, through scorching heat, 
 Shot downward from the sun, as if that God, 
 Long-worshipped in the East, with blazing brand, 
 Had formed a savage league with Phfeton, 
 Curbless son of Sol, to burn the world. 
 
 " ' When through the worst of that distressing sail, 
 Of heat, and calm and storm, we sighted off 
 The starlward bow, bleak Cape Saint Rouque, thence 
 Down, and scarcely twenty miles from eastern coast 
 Of old Brazil, we passed her woodland hills. 
 Her sunny vales, her rivers flowing in 
 The sea, with here and there a sightly port. 
 All hedged about with tropic growth until 
 We reached fair Rio, landlocked in the bay. 
 Three score and more of miles around and in 
 The charming beauty of the place and its 
 Environments we spent a pleasant month, 
 Made repairs upon the vessel's deck, 
 Laid in supplies to last three moons, then out 
 Again we floated with the tide; each sail 
 Was set and catching remnant of a storm 
 That pulsed to anger all the tropic seas. 
 Away we moved along the wonder coast 
 That changed as oft as some kaleidescope, 
 In varied hue and loveliness sublime, 
 Till sighted we afar the crowning cape 
 Of de las Virgines and entered then 
 Magellan's straits with rough hewn islands on 
 
 71 
 


72 POEMS OF LOVE AND PHILOSOPHY. 
 
 The south, and through three hundred miles 
 We slowly worked the dubious way, between 
 High ridges, desolate, and summits crowned 
 With snows eternal, till we rounded out 
 The dreary channel of Victoria cape, 
 And set our course northwesterly to run 
 A stretch of full five thousand miles to those 
 Fair isles that rest as gems within the crown 
 Of sapphire seas unequaled in their reach. 
 And w^here eternal spring is like unto 
 The sunny clime we left at Mitylene, 
 Where hope we had of sweet repose without 
 The jealous enmity of the Ottoman, 
 
 " ' Without mishap of special note, we crossed 
 Again the torrid zone, and reached secure 
 The latitude of fifteen north and near 
 The longitude, one-forty west, within 
 A few degrees of the fair elysium sought, 
 When unexpected came a fearful storm. 
 The leaden haze about the setting sun 
 Grew ominous, the face of that great orb 
 Shone like a globe of blood; the scudding clouds 
 Denoted lifting winds; the sea did moan 
 As does a leviathan in the throes 
 Of death, and swell on swell did lift and fall 
 Like rolling ridges, capped with spray and foam. 
 
 " ' Conscious of the fearful squall in sight 
 All sails were reefed and helm set to run 
 Before the blast; the little boat, as if 
 A thing of life, did tremble in her joints 
 As when an antler, hot pursued, essays 
 To make a fearful leap; her scudding, then 
 Commenced, and raced she with the Avind and waves, 
 With leaps and bounds, unknown before in all 
 


THE hermit's home. 73 
 
 Her history; through foam and blinding spray, 
 
 And topping waves, with course set north-nor'east, 
 
 She ran at least a thousand miles, and just 
 
 As seemed the deluge to abate and when 
 
 We felt the worst had passed, the vessel sprung 
 
 A leak. The pumps were set at work and for 
 
 A day and night we labored might and main 
 
 To keep the craft afloat, till land in sight 
 
 Should give relief from perils on the sea. 
 
 The hope was vain; the water gained upon 
 
 Our work so rapidly the pumps were left 
 
 And to our boats as last resort we took, 
 
 Just ten in each; but soon the rolling flood 
 
 Swamped one; the other one, in which myself 
 
 And people were, seemed better manned, and hope 
 
 Sat on each dripping face, when came 
 
 With force an ugly squall and over went 
 
 The little craft and all went floundering in 
 
 The flood. I never saw my parents more, 
 
 Nor anyone of that fair band. I Avas 
 
 Alone, it seemed upon the sea, but soon 
 
 I lost my consciousness, and knew no more 
 
 Until I saw you bending over me 
 
 Upon the beach. I know not why I live 
 
 And all the others gone, unless it is 
 
 Because I had a large preserver on, 
 
 And being less in weight than others were^ 
 
 My head had better chance to cap the waves. 
 
 " ' It was my hope that we, at least, should find 
 The forms I loved, but as you say, no one 
 Was found along the strand. I must assume 
 They all were lost past chance recovery.' 
 She ceased to speak; her hands were clasped about 
 Her face and scalding tears streamed from lier eyes. 
 


Canto XIII. 
 
 " Conscious of my duty well performed 
 I lived in peace secluded from the world, 
 With only Rover for companion in 
 My walks, and Sanger daily coming for 
 His hay, and rubbed his nose upon my arm. 
 When fed, as if to say, ' This is my thanks, 
 And when you wish my service, be assured 
 I shall remember all your compliments.' 
 The simple people of the lovely vale 
 Were kind and true and well content with what 
 The had — their little farms, their growing crops 
 And stock and ever-swelling flower buds. 
 
 " Because I knew a little Greek, had read 
 Some books and could pronounce some words in Dutch, 
 The people seemed to think, in truth, that I 
 Was wonderfully wise, and oft would troop 
 Across the vale, to where my cottage stood 
 That I as referee, might settle some 
 Disputed point, such as the rods, or roods 
 An acre did contain; what seed to ];)lant? 
 The grains of corn to drop in every hill? 
 What poison best to rid their fertile fields 
 Of rodent pests? What flowers should be grown 
 In pots? What roots to grow for dairy stock? 
 The safest medicine for chicken-pox? 
 And other questions more profound than these — 
 As depth to plow, or how to manage bees? 
 To dwell with people thus some one may say 
 That time is wasted opportunity. 
 Because the appetite of higher mind 
 


THE hermit's home. 75 
 
 Hath naught but barrenness to feed upon, 
 Without the quench of thirst for better things 
 That beam from upper levels of the mind, 
 Like burning stars that shine above the peaks 
 Of cragged Teneriffe and Everest. 
 
 " But ere the verdict on this theme abides, 
 I beg you pause and counsel with your heart 
 To find reflection there of what we are 
 And of design for human betterment. 
 Wealth may last us for a shining day, 
 But brick and mortar have no souls in them, 
 And many gilded fronts that mark the line 
 Of some great thoroughfare, contain behind 
 But whitened sepulchres where feast and wine 
 Inflame the animal within to such 
 Excesses as the devil loves, and think 
 They live to purpose in the world without 
 A recompense for increment received. 
 Cold brick and mortar have no souls to save. 
 
 " Great cities are, at best, but cancers in 
 The stomach of the world, that putrefy. 
 And but for increase from the rural homes 
 Would rot and stink with desolation. 
 God never made a city in the world, 
 And there are scattered ruins everywhere 
 To mark the destiny of all the rest. 
 God rules! His everlasting laws defied. 
 Have no condolence for the miseries 
 Of men who never learn the lesson of 
 Their lives, no more than pigs that fill with swill 
 And are content to sleep the stupor off. 
 God's bounty is sufficient for us all. 
 And some day each will have his share, when each 
 Shall recognize the right of all to live. 
 


76 POEMS OF LOVE AND PHILOSOPHY. 
 
 " Nenona, full recovered, grew in strength 
 And beauty every day, as when the chill 
 And sear of winter's passed, sweet Chloris comes 
 With all her train to garland early spring. 
 Her tender words and cheerfulness seemed like 
 A garden of exotics giving off 
 Its fragrance to each passer-by; and when 
 A day of recreation came for all 
 The children in the vale, and troop on troop 
 With cheer and glee went singing on the way 
 To hunt for nuts, or blooming treasures in 
 The woods, or romp upon the picnic grounds. 
 About Nenona flocked the spruce young lads. 
 And comely lasses, like so many birds 
 Of minor plumage, round a singing lark, 
 Unmindful of their own sweet melodies. 
 
 " She seemed as one who had no thought of self, 
 But was supremely happy in the joy 
 Of other hearts, as when the pearly drops 
 Of dew that glisten in the morning sun 
 Transform to sweetness, rosebuds drooping in 
 A garden poorly tilled and famishing 
 For showers that so seldom come. 
 Her dress, though plain and simple, always neat, 
 And every band and tuck set most complete. 
 Her golden hair, untrammeled in its sway. 
 Fell gently down in wave on wave, upon 
 Her shapely shoulders, like a shower of 
 Sweet crocus bloom put forth in early spring. 
 Her face had not a flaw, 'twas perfect Greek, 
 With hazel eyes beyond the reach of words 
 Conceived in song, or range of common minds. 
 


Canto XIV. 
 
 " Their teacher gone afar to pastures new, 
 The people of the vale besought of me 
 To play the pedagogue, and prove the love 
 I clamied to have for all that did pertain 
 To them. And while I turned the thought 
 Of what was best to do, Nenona came 
 To me, and laying hold of both my hands 
 And lifting up her face, as does a rose 
 With glistening dewdrops swelling from its heart, 
 And all her soul reflected from her eyes, 
 She said, in words that harsh makes sound a harp: 
 
 '' ' Two years have passed since from a corpse, found on 
 The flood, you brought me back to life again 
 And gave me friends and home when all was lost 
 To me, and since that time have been my guide 
 And star of hope, with light as true and pure 
 As Carnar's in his hold on Eridanus. 
 I know the vale in which we live is fair, 
 And much of earthly charm is gathered here 
 And then these dear, good people have so grown 
 The tendrils of affection in my heart. 
 That I can feel their hold and mastery 
 In every pulse, like thongs of gossamer. 
 Too fine to be definable in words. 
 I give full sympathy for all their loves 
 And for each ache and sorrow that they have. 
 
 " ' So beg I for your audience to hear 
 My simple plea that you may grant this wish 
 Of theirs most willingly, and furthermore, 
 In this emergency, my selfishness 
 
 77 
 


78 POEMS OF LOVE AND PHILOSOPHY. 
 
 Takes shape decidedly. If teach you not 
 
 The school, what then? Some other must enlist 
 
 And who? So far are we from centers of 
 
 The world and pay so small, that brains we can 
 
 Secure, perhaps, will be most primitive, 
 
 And some of us have hopes above the bogs 
 
 And barren steeps of simple doggerel. 
 
 " ' And should you leave us for some other place 
 Congenial and better pay, I feel 
 The moon would never shine again, 
 My mother-tongue would fade from memory 
 As does a summer dream upon the coast 
 Of Labrador. Philosophy would live 
 As something passed, to me, and all 
 Ambition lose the prop of hope, and set 
 Afloat my craft of life without a sail. 
 And rudderless, to drift upon the sea. 
 
 " ' I know you have no present wish to teach 
 The little school. It's whole year's wage, in cash, 
 Is hardly worth a single thought of yours; 
 But then, how much of good would come of it? 
 The sprint we had did do the best she could, 
 And etchings on our simple mind did make; 
 But so confused they ran about, that when 
 We sought to find a point as center for 
 A thought, there was no anchor for a hold. 
 
 " ' It may be that I err, but then it seems to me 
 The smallest thought conveyed should bear upon 
 A greater one, so when the structure is 
 Complete, might be a tenement, for one 
 In love with gentle nature and with God, 
 With wish and crowning outlook far above 
 The selfish ends and plodding ways of men. 
 So if you will but take the little school, 
 


THE hermit's home. 79 
 
 I will most gladly pose as one of your 
 Small satellites and catch reflection when 
 I can to light my way to higher flights, 
 And preparation for the great unknown. 
 
 " ' At times, perhaps, I might sail off among 
 The spheres and conjure up a thousand forms 
 Of beauty, there, and lean with confidence 
 Upon some myth unsteadfast in support. 
 Or on a crooked stick of poesy; 
 But be assured, I will return to sit 
 About your feet, as do the skipping lambs 
 Return, and tired, to the larger fold. 
 
 " ' I see you hesitate, and have a look 
 Far off, as one who has a memory 
 Of other days, when life's bright dreams were new, 
 And through the mist and sere and yellow haze 
 Of time, discerns a form once counted true. 
 Why start at this? I meant no harm, be sure. 
 My brim of girlish freak does run my tongue 
 So much at random that I sometimes sport 
 With sacred things unmindful of the hurt. 
 If wounded you unheeded, sad I am 
 To know it, so, if worth a fig to you 
 As salve to 'suage the sore, I will apply 
 The balm of all my sympathy and love. 
 As showers down the myrtle's blooming sweets 
 Upon the earth, when shaken by the wind.' 
 


Canto XV. 
 
 " There seemed no answer to a plea like this 
 Save yield possession of a fortress stormed 
 By dimpled wit and charming sentiment. 
 It seems there have been times when castle walls 
 And belching" guns have bid defiance to 
 Great legions fronting them, but then what man 
 Can stand unmoved before such loveliness 
 Of form and mind, pure as the fountain of 
 Ar'thusa, soul enchanting as the harp 
 Of Amphion, with tact and gentle grace 
 That never seemed to recognize itself? 
 
 " Austereness, grave as Nestor, sage of Pylos, 
 Would have melted like the polar snows 
 Exposed to glowing heat of tropic suns. 
 Consent secured, this hallowmas tripped through 
 The vale, like one who had important news 
 To tell, and everywhere she went, there came 
 About her sunny faces, as of old 
 When some fair Eastern nymph would sing 
 Delightful songs from Ramay ana's page. 
 
 " When full installed as teacher of the school, 
 And every one was busy with the work, 
 I sought to find the soul of every child. 
 And he who studies here, will shed a tear 
 Of sympathy for human entities 
 With lives and characters inborn, which ill 
 Or good predominates, as circumstance 
 And antecedents may by dint constrain. 
 To find the drift and cause of character 
 And remedies to counterbalance wrong. 
 


THE hermit's home. 81 
 
 With application not constrained, is first 
 Of all, the problems which the teacher has ' 
 To solve, before much progress can be made. 
 
 " As illustrative of a multitude 
 Of temperaments, so plainly manifest, 
 I had a boy in school called Tony Flinn, 
 A little Irish lad, with lanky sides. 
 And eyes of gray, with head in knots behind, 
 Square forehead, ample mouth, new-moon in shape. 
 With corners upward turned. He seemed to live 
 On pranks, and did appear to have no aim 
 In life but fun, that helped digestion in 
 A way to make a stringy doughnut seem 
 An ample substitute for provender 
 Of prince, or kingly epicure. A pun 
 In words, slick said, would make him laugh a week. 
 
 " To get his mind full settled on his book 
 Was harder work than digging in a ditch. 
 With speller up before his face, his eyes 
 Would shine around its corners like the sun, 
 When shadowed by the moon in full eclipse. 
 His hair was short and red and stood like quills 
 Upon his head, with fair skin, freckled face. 
 And high cheek bones above a rounded chin. 
 Which counseled with a jaw of little force. 
 
 " To cure him of this ailment, nothing seemed 
 Sufficient, short of moulding him again. 
 As does a potter, remnants of his clay. 
 But scant of skill in this direction, I 
 Essayed to get myself a lodgment in 
 His heart, as does a sympathetic song 
 Of long remembrance start the brimming tear. 
 To fairly mould the human mind within 
 Its angled tenement it did appear 
 


82 POEMS OF LOVE AND PHILOSOPHY. 
 
 That hickory oil had lost its potency, 
 
 That while chastisement of this sort may curb 
 
 And cow the spirit for a time, it is 
 
 As plants of bitter fruit set out to grow 
 
 The golden apples of Hisperidese. 
 
 So after much of caustic drill and rough 
 
 Experiment, I hit upon this plan: 
 
 " One day when all the children were at play 
 This boy, by chance, the schoolroom entered for 
 His hat, when catching him around the neck, 
 I said, ' Dear Tony, you are not, in fact, 
 A naughty boy. Your only wrong is fun. 
 Provoking every little incident 
 To roar the school when lessons are on hand. 
 Now, if you'll straighten out your angle face 
 And settle down to sober work while we 
 Are all engaged, I will agree that you 
 Shall have a romp with me at every noon, 
 And tell a story that will make you laugh 
 With all the school, and count you as my friend.' 
 
 " In this display of friendly interest in 
 The boy's untutored ways, there did appear 
 A glintage in his lustrous eyes, as does 
 A light that burns upon a distant hill 
 As beacon that a human form is there, 
 And with expression such as comes when soul 
 With soul conceives a unity, he said. 
 Between his sobs, ' I know it's wrong to laugh 
 So much and start the school to cackling when 
 The lesson's on, but then, in truth, it seems 
 To swell and gurgle up like bubbles on 
 My mother's tub when lathered for the wash. 
 But since you are so good and talk so kind 
 To me, I'll try to choke my mischief down. 
 


THE hermit's home. 83 
 
 As doughnuts dry and forced, without a drink, 
 Until my full of mirth, without degree 
 Of impropriety, may flow at will, 
 And run at random as a passing stream 
 That's summer fed from all the woodland hills.' 
 Thenceforth young Tony loved his fun not less, 
 But books and teacher, seeming something more, 
 Loved order from controlling strength of love, 
 As sweetest dews in sunshine sparkle most. 
 Where flowers grow without the chill of frost. 
 " The hardest case in all the school was one 
 Ungainly Spanish boy, coarse-grained, with head 
 Straight up and wide behind, with crown well raised 
 And forward sloping down to near the brows; 
 With eyes like beads, in black, deep-set; 
 A sloping nose and short, with lips compressed 
 With corners down and jaws most prominent 
 That ran like bands of steel up through his face, 
 With bulging skull above his flabby ears — 
 A young gorilla born, a brute — what could 
 Be done with him? What virtue there impart? 
 He mixed but little in the romp and plays 
 Of other boys, but slipped about from place 
 To place, with cunning eyes, as of a fox 
 Nearby a flock of singing larks, or as 
 A wolf, full half concealed, reviews the lambs 
 That frisk about the field or glades of green; ' 
 To grind a bug or worm beneath his heel. 
 Or wring the neck of some lame bird, or stone 
 A dog, or hoot to scare the grazing herd, 
 Seemed but quintessence of delight to him. 
 To bid him do, was bid a thing undone; 
 And to destroy, was all he had of fun. 
 I coaxed and pled, spoke words of gentle cheer; 
 


84 POEMS OF LOVE AND PHILOSOPHY. 
 
 Shamed at his heartless acts and vicious moods, 
 Then plied the lash without avail, save at- 
 Each sturdy stroke I saw his snake-eyes gleam 
 Like fiery glintage on a darkened stream. 
 
 " Revenge sat full upon his somber face, 
 While conscious duty was a blank to him. 
 The pity is, a creature, human, thus, 
 Was ever made, and made, all such, should have 
 No power left to reproduce his kind. 
 At last 1 gave the struggle up and sent 
 Him home, as one in whom the hope is lost 
 For better things, and clog to better lives — 
 And now, as last of these extremes, I'll name 
 The frisky, bright-eyed Robby Hutchinson. 
 He had a head, gourd-like, and handle off. 
 With extra swell behind his coon-like ears. 
 And flattened skull, commencing where the hair 
 In brindle kinks began to crawl up to 
 The crown; his eyes of hazel, had a light 
 In them, the hawk is not a stranger to; 
 His nose, full, high and drooping at the point. 
 Was not, in shape, unlike the eagle's beak. 
 His lips, thick-set and cut across his face 
 Without a curve, with jaw of ample strength. 
 And chin that rounded in a swelling lump. 
 His mind was bright and active as a mink's 
 He loved the sports afield, but ever edged 
 Toward the maidens skipping of the rope. 
 And tagged with them, when on the sly he could 
 Essay, without observe of colder eyes. 
 
 " His greatest fault was pilfering; no chance 
 Escaped he could improve to scoop a ball, 
 Or marble not his own; his pockets full 
 And bulging out with nuts and rusty knives 
 


THE hermit's home. 85 
 
 And keeps and pencil stubs and bits of string 
 
 Were laughing stock for all the grinning school. 
 
 With expert hand and undue haste he would 
 
 Divide some other student's hoard of fruit. 
 
 But never once conceived of such a thing 
 
 As kindly give and take in consonance 
 
 Of soul in human reciprocity. 
 
 He seemed, in truth, the early counterpart 
 
 Of many anxious men, who strive through life 
 
 To pile up wealth they cannot use, and die 
 
 Undone and lost to all the elements 
 
 That was intended should distinguish them 
 
 From ghouls and brutish beasts — unsouled — 
 
 To rot as carrion in a vaulted grave. 
 
 What can be done with such as these? The warp 
 
 Of life without the filling woof that makes 
 
 The tangle threadbar in the sight of God! 
 
 Surprising is the thought, and dumb we stand 
 
 Amid infinity of problems yet 
 
 Unsolved and feel about for evidence 
 
 Of what we are, with just a glimmer in 
 
 The distance of a star that moves the heart 
 
 To hope it is the harbinger to light 
 
 The soul of man to knowledge of himself: — 
 
 The centerstance of all philosophy — 
 
 To know which is to know the remedy 
 
 For all our ills and knowing, give us strength 
 
 Of purpose to apply the urgent need. 
 


Canto XVI. 
 
 " For three full years I labored thus among 
 This simple trusting people; proud they seemed 
 Of progress made by all their little ones, 
 And praised my work with many kindly words. 
 In these three years Nenona had outgrown 
 The place, as does a thrifty myrtle top 
 All lesser growth, with bloom that stinteth not. 
 The reputation of its excellence. 
 
 " She seemed the idol of each heart in all 
 The land, example in deportment marked, 
 And when distress sat brooding on the mind 
 Of some poor soul, a tear, or tender word 
 From her, of sympathy, that led the way 
 To hope, the darkness disappeared, as when 
 A cloud obscuring light unshades the sun. 
 
 " She had no art but that which nature gave; 
 No studied pose, or word to gain control. 
 But in her missions merciful, pure soul 
 Met soul, as do the welling waters of 
 A limpid stream commingle with the flow 
 Of some sweet river running to the sea. 
 In fact, all language stands abashed, and feels 
 Confused in utter helplessness to name 
 A pearl so true and constant in its light. 
 
 " But then, I felt that all things beautiful 
 Must pass. Infinity has thus ordained. 
 And though one staggers with the load imposed 
 At duty's call, there is no other light 
 Along the weary path of life that gives 
 To view the guide-posts on the way, but that 
 


THE hermit's home. 87 
 
 Which conscience sheds upon the trusting soul. 
 
 At times, it seemed, I felt like one who finds 
 
 A shining star and in supremacy 
 
 Of selfishness would hide it from the gaze 
 
 Of everyone but his, unmindful of 
 
 The darkness wrought upon the world by such 
 
 Ungainly mood and dei)th of littleness. 
 
 " vSo, curbing as I could, each selfish wish 
 And nerving all my better nature for 
 The sacrifice, I did resolve that she 
 Should go to some academy or school 
 Sufficiently advanced and skillful in 
 Design, to find the crowning peaks whereon 
 Consoling light of knowledge ever shines. 
 
 " Not such as blunt and bend and warp the mind 
 By sect or austere creed embodiments. 
 That circumscribe the broader range of thought 
 And cramp it in a sphere no larger than 
 The cranium of some assuming crank. 
 Or gloomy cloister, who prates of things 
 He knows not of — but to a training school. 
 That teaches God in nature, scope and breadth 
 So magnified, to fit infinity 
 Of space, and show divinity in all 
 Things made, inanimate and such as live 
 In form of man, as cap, and under him 
 The beast and bird and teeming world. 
 
 " So, on a golden afternoon that marked 
 The change of svimmer heat to autumn's edge. 
 With all its glory of maturing fruits. 
 When mingled green and yellow awnings on 
 The stately trees, hung passively in place 
 And whispered to each passing breeze of what 
 Their fate should be, and when their call would come 
 


88 POEMS OF LOVE AND PHILOSOPHY. 
 
 To move like some pale, mournful caravan, 
 
 To bosom all their sorrows in the earth, 
 
 As mortals do, when life has spent its force 
 
 P^or good or ill, Nenona sat, and I 
 
 Beside her, on the smooth, round, barkless trunk 
 
 Of alder tree, long prone upon the ground. 
 
 " Away to westward, where we looked, the sun 
 Stood mantled in a silver cloud, while down 
 Below his amber skirts, the sea's great stretch 
 Of surface, marked beyond the horizon 
 With murmur undefinable to those 
 AVho never heard its dismal tale of woe. 
 
 " While thus we viewed and mused in silence on 
 The beauty of the scene, I felt the time 
 Had come to speak of that which I would fain 
 Forego, had heart or duty prompted less. 
 While yet I thought about the manner of 
 Approach, Nenona thus delightfully 
 Exclaimed, while spread the soul's imprint upon 
 Her face, as moisture follows foot imprint in 
 Yielding sand along the sounding sea: 
 
 " ' 0, lovely land, of Lesbo's summer skies! 
 In flowing robes of green and brightest gold, 
 Where dwelleth surely some Divinity 
 Of Amphion that buildeth up this scene, 
 With harp, enchanting in its melodies,' 
 
 " ' Well done,' said I, ' that strain is surely from 
 Sweet Sapho's string, that sounds forever in 
 The fair, sweet, sunny streets of Mitylene; 
 But since romance does sink to littleness 
 When life's oppressive load of care commands 
 Attention sad and seriously, 
 I wish a confidential chat with you. 
 
 ' ' Five years and more have passed, Nenona, since 
 


THE hermit's home. 89 
 
 You came among us as a waif cast from 
 
 The cruel sea, like some surprising bud 
 
 From tropic zone, which we have nurtured in 
 
 Development, as does a botanist, 
 
 Some new-found treasure of the floral world, 
 
 Which, in its tender culturing, does lean 
 
 Upon its neighbor for support, Avith breath 
 
 Of rarest excellence. So has it been 
 
 With you, Nenona; more than all the hope 
 
 We cherished at your coming, has, in truth. 
 
 Been realized, for wheresoever thou 
 
 Art known in all this sunny land, there hangs, 
 
 Inviting to your pull, the latch string of 
 
 Each household, as a breath of blooming spring 
 
 Finds gentle welcome to all human hearts. 
 
 " ' I do not wish to flatter you; in fact, 
 It would be vain to undertake a task 
 So difficult, and so I hope you'll take 
 No umbrage at these seeming compliments. 
 And if you claim that I should verify ~ 
 My words, I will present to you a wall 
 Of human testimony that shall more 
 Than satisfy. If this be not enough, 
 I will collect the lovely linnets and 
 Fair kittens of the vale, and forming one 
 Great ring of all the people — you among 
 The rest — and setting down the show of birds 
 And little cats, as centerstance, and if 
 They move not in a drove toward your stand, 
 I will agree, upon my bending knees, 
 To pay the forfeit of this compliment. 
 
 " ' But then I will desist. It is enough 
 To know you live among us now, and who 
 Has such effrontery to undertake 
 


90 POEMS OF LOVE AND PHILOSOPHY. 
 
 Description of the morning star, when she 
 
 Is manifest to every living soul? 
 
 The counsel which I wish with you is this — 
 
 By application most remarkable, 
 
 And measure of intelligence to see 
 
 The way, your progress up the rugged steeps 
 
 That lead to summits of eternal light, 
 
 Has passed the stations where we have to stop 
 
 And resting, wonder what is further on. 
 
 " ' To cramp a soul that hath a flight like yours 
 In boundaries of such a place as this, 
 Is surely sacrilege of God's intent — 
 To cover jewels with a rusty spade — 
 That should outshine the transient glory of 
 All earthly wealth, as arching rainbows span 
 The somber figure of the whirling globe. 
 
 " ' As brother, older by ten years, my wish 
 Has been advance for you and happiness. 
 And since there is no further progress here 
 Along the lines of higher learning, you 
 Must go where there is latitude to reach 
 Above the half-way round on which I stand. 
 That loving prophesy of all the vale 
 May be fulfilled — that you, in sober truth, 
 Shall ultimately gain the borderland 
 Where bar is placed that separates the reach 
 Of mortal mind from that which is Divine. 
 
 " ' Now, say the word that you will go from this 
 Poor stinted place, to learn the better life 
 And higher aim attainalde by one 
 So favored mentally and morally 
 With all the excellence of soul and sense. 
 Essential for a flight of mind conceived, 
 That follows shining stars, when breathless 
 


THE hermit's home. 91 
 
 Others pause upon the l)rink of further flight. 
 The cost of such advance shall be my own 
 And I will make arrangements readily 
 And more than recompense shall be to me 
 The knowledge of my aid in this affair.' 
 


Canto XVII. 
 
 " When closed I this well-meaning speech, she rose 
 And stood before me like a statue from 
 The mystic hand of Phidias, who had 
 The art to make a marble face and form 
 Breathe inspiration in the soul of all 
 Who has the fortune to behold his work. 
 Not rigid, stately stood she there, like one 
 Who hears her doom, yet steady as a star 
 Holds down the flood of her great agony. 
 
 " Her eyes were on me like two orbs that look 
 Out from the depths of space, with sad reproach, 
 Expressive of surprise, yet no ill-will 
 Or thought offended seemed to cluster there. 
 I could but look, my eyes refused to gaze 
 Another way, as when enchantment holds 
 The mind engaged and blank is all things else. 
 At last her lips began to move and like 
 The strings of some sweet instrument that breathe 
 And quiver in prelude when lightly touched 
 By master hand, she said in tones that seemed 
 Like some forgotten melody : ' I grieve 
 To hear your words. My hope has been to live 
 Here always, have no other home, nor wish 
 No other while I live. No doubt you feel 
 This change is for my good. The sacrifice 
 You do propose to make in my behalf 
 Does well assure concern and wish to aid 
 To uttermost in making life for me 
 A fragrant bloom, full worthy of the care 
 And tender nurturing so lavishly 
 


THE hermit's home. 93 
 
 Bestowed by you and all the people of 
 
 This charming vale, but why transport a half 
 
 Grown linnet to another nest when all 
 
 Its heart is here? I never shall forget 
 
 The priceless aid you have alforded me; 
 
 A father never offered more to one 
 
 He loves; a brother, lover, often less 
 
 Yet, is it evidence of deeper care 
 
 To send a fairly fledgling soul beyond 
 
 The wish and haven of its greatest need? 
 
 To titled schools, where sage professors, glum 
 
 With mighty thoughts that shine among the stars. 
 
 Possess the only ideal that love and faith, 
 
 With straining nerves, should follow to the grave? 
 
 While more of thought and deeper culture of 
 
 The mind, is surely manifest, yet who 
 
 Will say that learning in the abstract brings 
 
 A creature nearer God than he who dwells 
 
 Within these blooming groves, with every thought 
 
 Turned inward on himself, and in the heart 
 
 Of nature delving to discover truth 
 
 And his relation to Divinity? 
 
 " ' Like flowers grown in gardens fair, the mind, 
 Full tutored where gentle warmth of loving care 
 Stands thwart each avenue of yewpas growth. 
 Is surely sweet and most commendable. 
 But where is strength of such surroundings found? 
 Where teeming thousands hurry through the world, 
 With thought of naught but gain and giddy show, 
 While depths of sin and misery stalk on 
 The streets and harbor where the lights are dim? 
 
 " ' It is accounted wise and great to soar 
 On eagle wings to find a star beyond 
 The keen of common men ; but then it seems 
 


94 POEMS OF LOVE AND PHILOSOPHY. 
 
 To me, a master-mind, unaided by the heart, 
 
 Is like a ship that goes to sea without 
 
 A rudder, seeking oceans fathomless. 
 
 And baffled by the winds, and currents crossed, 
 
 Brings back to port no treasured argosies. 
 
 " ' Your compliments have been profuse, most kind 
 And seemingly sincere. I treasure them 
 As rarest gems, but cannot wear them all 
 At once, unless I make a gaudy show 
 That turns my head from things more serious, 
 And starts the flush of swelling vanity. 
 
 " ' Do not forget my flaxen curls and drees 
 Of childhood's gone. As well you say, five years 
 And more have passed, since chance or something else 
 Moved with me on the rushing waters to 
 Your out-stretched arms, unconscious of myself; 
 Helpless and frail beyond my youthful years; 
 
 The tender hearts and hands that wooed me back 
 
 To life again, will rest forever in 
 My memory, like fragrant incense on 
 An altar built of love, and for your part 
 
 In this affair, I have no words or song 
 Of praise, in any wise accceptable. 
 
 " ' The days and months and years so kindly spent 
 
 To guide my steps aright, and bring within 
 
 The compass of my simple mind the true 
 
 And beautiful in thought and sense of soul 
 
 That maketh mortal something more than flesh 
 
 And blood and life a talisman in charm 
 
 To reach above the sordid aims of time 
 
 Into eternities of better things, 
 
 Is work of yours I never can forget ; 
 
 And hoped till now that I might ever be 
 
 Companion in your rambles through these woods 
 


THE hermit's home. 95 
 
 And learn to drink more deeply of the stream 
 Of wisdom ever flowing from your lips. 
 
 " ' But since you bid my leaving this abode 
 For other climes — I know not where — to gain 
 More polish and less soul among the learned 
 Of other lands, I feel constrained to go. 
 Each selfish want and thought must be with me 
 Subordinate to wish of yours, for while 
 I love these scenes as does the simple child 
 A fairyland of butterflies, I know 
 Your counsel, ever good, should bear in weight 
 Above my preference, as does a star 
 The light and shifting dust of fading leaves. 
 
 " ' You praise my work in aid of other lives 
 As most complete, but really, I think 
 Such work is never done, nor never can. 
 So long as mortals need a helping hand. 
 So long as duty calls, sad want we see. 
 And heart of heart does seek its sympathy. 
 
 " ' Perhaps 'tis for the best that I should go; 
 But then I think the yield will surely be 
 But scanty recompense for what I leave. 
 Acclimating oft kills the fairest grow'th; 
 No jasmine can stand the winter chill 
 Of northern clime, and fades the myrtle bloom 
 Among the polar pines; why then attempt 
 What nature does abhor, in planting growth 
 Of tropic clime beyond the chilling range 
 Of Capricorn? No recompense will come 
 Of it, no more than can of planting 
 Sunny lives, where wraps of fur and cold 
 Utility do sap the human heart 
 Of sentiment, and make affinities 
 In naught but selfish ends! A monster garbed 
 


96 POEMS OF LOVE AND PHILOSOPHY. 
 
 With gold seems God of more than half the world. 
 
 " ' Why then attempt to further plant in fields 
 Where mortals are esteemed as dross compared 
 To shining wealth? Which is the greater need 
 In all the world today, a competence 
 With soul, and love for other lives, or gain 
 That takes the increment from honest toil? 
 
 " ' Ah, Sir, solution of these thoughts are far 
 Above my childlike wits, but then, they will 
 Well up in every loving heart to plague 
 Philosophy that seeks to answer them. 
 It seems to me the fairest life in all 
 The world is that which is contented with 
 Enough and gives of that to help those more 
 In need, and labors earnestly for light 
 And truth and human betterment? 
 
 " ' Each simple atom of the universe, 
 Each living thing that moves upon the earth, 
 Should fill its little sphere and be at rest. 
 It seems to have been so ordained, and he 
 Who clambers high upon the shoulders of 
 The race, regardless of the rights of those 
 Beneath, hath lost, in truth, the semblance of 
 Humanity, and monster makes of that 
 Which God intended should be help to man. 
 
 " ' If pilgrimage to crowning schools of fame, 
 That overlook the busy marts of men 
 Is acme of the sunburnt country swain, 
 And highest aim in God's utility. 
 Why does the forest bloom upon the plain? 
 Beside the running streams and on the slopes 
 That lift their verdure upward to the sky? 
 Where start the streams that glint the sunny vales 
 And sing to Him who made their shining pearls? 
 


THE hermit's home. 97 
 
 Why wave the fields and meadows blooming, with 
 The incense of Divinity, not cramped 
 Within great city walls, to please with form 
 And fragrance all the motley, moving throng? 
 
 " 'The mystery no longer mystifies; 
 The cities seem no part of God's design 
 In makeup of creation, surely are 
 They plants exotic, breathing something good 
 And much of ill. It fact, they seem 
 As moral cancers in the stomach of 
 The world, that putrefy, unless infused 
 Continually with rural blood that flows 
 As limpid streams to purify the mass 
 Intoxicated with excess, is life. 
 Perhaps I overdraw the picture here. 
 And set comparison to grinning in 
 His sleeve, like some rude boy that dresses up 
 A doll ungainly for the sport of it. 
 
 " ' But be that as it may, I now will cast 
 Objection to the wind and bow, in truth. 
 Submission to your wish. It may be that 
 The children will forget the little waif 
 That came among them years ago. I have 
 No right to claim their loves, as what I've done 
 Has been conceived a duty to myself 
 For all the care and tenderness received. 
 But still I go as goes the lamb torn from 
 Its mother's side with bleat and bleeding heart. 
 That balm of time can never fully heal. 
 Nor memory allow forgetfulness. 
 
 " ' It seems to me that God is nearer here 
 Than any place in all the land. The pines 
 That worship on the hills; the sylvan nook, 
 The blooming glen, the silver stream, are all 
 


98 POEMS OF LOVE AND PHILOSOPHY. 
 
 A part of me as I in nature am 
 
 A part of God, and revel in the thought 
 
 That all eternity will never mar 
 
 Or dim this sweet relationship. 
 
 Deep in this wonderland, my days have passed. 
 
 And are remembered as a lullaby 
 
 When cradled by my loving mother's hand; 
 
 Or as the song of that sweet nightingale 
 
 That echoed music through the blooming wood 
 
 The night before we left sweet Mitylene. 
 
 Full conscious am I that I wane your time 
 
 On things of small account compared to words 
 
 And counsels wise you are disposed to give. 
 
 " ' But ere my star of hope goes down and leaves 
 Me utter darkness, hear my last appeal — 
 It is of thoughts oft welling to my lips 
 In happy days forever passed away — 
 Of your infinitude of compliments 
 And gentleness of mind that fell upon 
 My heart like sunshine on a tiny plant, 
 That it might grow among the larger fold. 
 So let me say — For all this warmth and light 
 Thus caused by you to fall upon my soul, 
 Like heavenly incense from an holy urn, 
 I never can repay. Here is my hand 
 And in it all my heart. These all I have — 
 I never loved before, I never can again.' 
 
 " At this she sank, subdued, upon her knees 
 Before me, trembling like an aspen leaf. 
 While, with her hands before her face, the tears 
 Ran through her fingers like great pearl drops, 
 Streaming from a golden horn of gems. 
 What could I do? What could I say? It seemed 
 I had no choice of approach, or wish, 
 


THE hermit's home. 99 
 
 Or hope of rescue from the summer dream 
 Of beauty kneeling there. So as a child, 
 I took her to my arms and folding there 
 In rapture to my heart, while kisses fell 
 In showers fresh and sweet as honey dew. 
 
 l.ofC. 
 


Canto XVIII. 
 
 " Fair days and weeks ran into nimble month, 
 As in sweet havens of Hesperides 
 Where happiness does sit in laps of ease, 
 And all the golden fruits of ripened time 
 Hang ready for a desert luxury 
 Of soul and sense and appetites of love's 
 Warm breath and dalliance, unshadowed l^y 
 A cloud above the future's horizon. 
 
 " The time was set when we should be as one, 
 And all the vale appear as witnesses. 
 The day was that fair anniversary 
 Of Him who came to bless and save the world; 
 The little church, all decked in evergreens. 
 Late rose and lily bloom, did seem to smile 
 On everyone who entered there, as when 
 A floral arch bends in its welcome down 
 And greets the passing throng, delighted with 
 The scenery and graceful art displayed. 
 The tolling bell called all to worship there, 
 As did the star above sweet Bethlehem 
 So many rounding centuries ago. 
 
 " With invocation to Divinity, 
 And songs of praise that lift humanity 
 Above the weary run of daily life — 
 Amid the smiles of all the multitude 
 The service was performed, and solemnly, 
 That made Nenona and myself, two souls, 
 In one, as with a band of gossamer. 
 Frail as a spider's woof, yet strong as bands 
 Of gold when love is linked with common sense, 
 
 100 
 


THE hermit's home. 101 
 
 And purity stands by with balanced scale. 
 
 " Another room was deftly added to 
 The cottage on the sunny slope, in which 
 The neighbors joined as do school boys, when much 
 Elated, build a habitation for 
 Some fairy queen that comes among them for 
 A summer's stay, with cheer and gleeful song. 
 Old Sanger seemed to know some enterprise 
 Was on the taps, uncommon to the place, 
 And pranced about surprised, yet gave assent 
 In neiker and in snort subdued. 
 While Rover wondered at the active hands 
 Engaged and watched each timber laid, as one 
 Not quite persuaded good would come of it. 
 
 " When stood the cottage, quite complete in all 
 Appointments consonant with plan, I felt 
 The house too big for my sparse furniture. 
 So, hitched to wagon, boarded up, two span 
 Of dapple grays and sped away across 
 The hills, the journey of a day, to port 
 That sat on little inlet by the sea. 
 And bought a line of modest household goods, 
 Fair crockery and tinnery renewed. 
 A clock of dainty form, on either side 
 A maiden stood in Scottish dress, that held 
 Aloft its pointing hands and snow-white face 
 With dentures black, which marked suggestively 
 The hours passing on the wings of time, 
 Unchecked by storm, or sun, or mortal wish 
 To undo that which is already done. 
 When glossy furniture was all in place, 
 Fair crockery and glass in cupboard sat, 
 And kitchen ware in shining rows replaced 
 The rusty tins of uncouth batchelerdom, 
 


102 POEMS OF LOVE AND PHILOSOPHY. 
 
 And warning clock upon the mantel stood. 
 
 "A great reception was extended to 
 The loving people of the little vale, 
 Without a slight or stinting preference. 
 Perhaps there may have been such holidays 
 Before, perhaps there may be such again, 
 But anyway, the people did declare 
 That surely in the world there never was 
 Occasion half so joyful and filled 
 To brim the sweetest of amenities. 
 Thus started we, Nenona and myself, 
 With sunny maid as cheer and kitchen help, 
 To keeping house, untrammeled by a care. 
 Save that which ever moved the mind of each 
 To make the other always satisfied. 
 
 " Fair castles line the banks of sunny streams 
 And mountain steeps with moat and parapet; 
 And shining turrets, crowned with terreplein, 
 While all about are gardens rich in prime, 
 Exotic plants, all spiced by tropic suns — 
 Yet, who can say, in truth, they do contain 
 A happiness of sweeter growth than cots 
 Reared in the woods, or on the treeless plain 
 And thatched with strips of bark or barley straw. 
 
 " About my little home, with tender care 
 There grew a labyrinth of flowers, fair 
 As those that deck the throne of Flora, when 
 In league with May, its queen does shower down 
 With lavish hand rich gems plucked from the crown 
 Of Dryadese, Avho roams the pleasant wood, 
 And plucks at will her dainty doweries. 
 
 " Old Sanger, little worked because of long 
 And faithful service, ran at large and free 
 As ran the water from the sloping hills; 
 


THE hermit's home, 103 
 
 And when I harnessed younger stock to turn 
 
 The shining furrows in the field, this pet, 
 
 Spoiled by his own exulierance of worth, 
 
 Would watch my work and when the team stood still 
 
 Beneath some spreading tree to blow and rest, 
 
 As if inspector-general of the vale. 
 
 Came prancing up and with an expert eye 
 
 Tramped round and round my nags, as if to see 
 
 That every strap and tug and rein was taut 
 
 And best adjusted to the work in hand. 
 
 "While Rover, weaned from all his youthful ways 
 By steady training hand of time, would go 
 Along demurely, little heeding rat 
 Or squirrel, frightened, running from the team; 
 But when afield would curl up in the shade 
 To dream, perhaps, in retrospect of all 
 The years gone by, when active in the chase. 
 Or iron stand he ever took on guard. 
 Or when a danger seemed to hover near. 
 Thus passed the days and weeks and months. 
 In toil sufficient for our utmost need. 
 
 " Yet leaving leisure ample for sw^eet rest 
 At home, with her, than whom there never lived 
 A soul more heavenly in all the land. 
 If paradise hath welcome sweeter than 
 My own, and man in any way could half 
 Discover it, a song of praise would be 
 On every lip; distempered ills of life 
 Would disappear as did old Tiamat, 
 The hag of woes unnumbered — outward hurled 
 By potent Marduke, shrieking from the world. 
 
 " Two years passed thus in ease and happiness, 
 As does the time roll by in Avonderland — 
 With all we love in gardens of the Gods, 
 


104 POEMS OF LOVE A^^D PHILOSOPHY. 
 
 Perfumed by incense from the floral world. 
 
 And then there came a change that checked the flow 
 
 Of earthly bliss, as when Feronia checks 
 
 The flowing streams, — then parch and wither up 
 
 The growth and glory of the nurtured plain. 
 
 " A sickness came upon Nenona, not 
 Uncommon to her sex, that taxed severe 
 The best of skill that sought to bring relief. 
 But all in vain, she faded as a rose 
 Just bursting into summer bloom on which 
 Untimely frost had set its seal of death. 
 
 " The people of the vale seemed stupefied 
 By this calamity, deep sorrow sat 
 On every face; brave men moved to and fro 
 Like shadows through the fields, in search, it seemed, 
 Of something, knowing hardly what, that might 
 Relieve the strain of nerve and troubled mind; 
 The women flocked about the house and grounds 
 Like doves that coo around their stricken mates, 
 Uncomforted by Clotho in their grief. 
 The day of her sad funeral did seem 
 The darkest ever known, altho the sun 
 Stood shadowless high in the arch above. 
 
 "Just yonder on that sunny slope we laid 
 Her lovely form, in life a shining star 
 That had no orbit through the cold, blue sky. 
 But in its daily round shed ample light 
 For sweetest leadership in all good Avorks. 
 The little babe is with her there in peace. 
 And all the consolation left us is, — 
 The balm of memory that ever clings 
 To loved ones lost, with hope of union where 
 The skies are clear and peace forever there, 
 For all who love and dare to do the right. 
 


THE hermit's home. 105 
 
 •• How little seems the worth of life when called 
 To bear calamity like this, and naught 
 But fortitude and trust in God can stand 
 Against the growth of lunacy, that drags 
 The mind to gloomy bogs and bottomless, 
 Unguided by a single shining star? 
 I lived no longer as myself, for three 
 We were, yet two were in the silent grave. 
 
 " My interest in the work about the farm 
 Did cease; and from the day we buried her 
 The neighbors nurtured it, and gave as rent 
 Whatever suited them. "Tis wonderful 
 How little mortals need upon the earth! 
 I had no wish for company; reserve 
 Came over all my life and grief did sit 
 Consoler as the seasons slowly passed. 
 
 " When two full years had fled without relief, 
 I cleared the rubbish and the rubble stones 
 From this surprising cavern — built by sonie 
 Eruption in the early ages of 
 
 The world, before old Thurmes cooled the earth — 
 Then bringing here belongings such as made 
 It comfortable, moving in the place 
 With Rover following. And thus I've lived 
 For thirty years, supplied with simple needs 
 Gleaned from the farm and garden there below 
 The grave, where, as you see, a crystal stream 
 Runs near, which is at times diverted to 
 The plot and used for watering the plants 
 And posies, hedged about with spicy shrubs, 
 Where in their tilling does allow escape 
 From gloomy solitude, that patient waits 
 Along the strand, with hope to quench in flow 
 Of Lethe remains of human memories. 
 


106 POEMS OF LOVE AND PHILOSOPHY. 
 
 " For many years I made an annual 
 Pilgrimage down to the golden sands 
 That line the ocean shore, and once did build 
 A little hamlet where Nenona lay 
 When rescued lifeless from the cruel sea. 
 But as all earthly work of human hands 
 Is evanescent as the falling leaves — 
 The first full moon that pulled to eastward with 
 The sun did flood the mighty stretch of shore, 
 And washed away my ruined tenement, 
 As lesson that the props of life cannot 
 Support for length of days the things we love. 
 
 " Poor Rover ultimately grew so old, 
 That like some sage philosopher, with head 
 Upon his paws, would_dream away the time 
 And little caring for a thing beside 
 A crust. At last the flickering lamp went out. 
 And now, perhaps, with life renewed, he has. 
 With others, reached the happy hunting ground. 
 Who knows? Who can deny that mind of man 
 And beast is not, in fact, an essence from 
 A common source, and measured out to meet 
 The need of everything that lives, and soul, 
 But conscious memory of what has been? 
 
 " Since then I hardly go below the plot 
 Of garden truck, but never have I in 
 Those thirty, weary years, a single day 
 Delayed a visit to Nenona's grave 
 And carried flowers there, the freshest that 
 The season could afford, and there behold! 
 The pathway l^eaten bare l:)y weary feet, 
 Unrcstful only on the lonely tramp. 
 
 '' The time approaches for my final call. 
 More I am than satisfied with length 
 


THE hermit's home. 107 
 
 Of years, yet hope I that they have not been 
 In vain. As nature softens down the hard 
 Cold stones, with Time's erosive hand, so have 
 I sought each day to wear away some ill 
 Of soul remaining in my life, and make 
 A flower grow where aspen grew before. 
 
 " I know myself and know what nature has 
 In store for me. That dust to dust shall this 
 Poor frame return, and what there is in it 
 Of spirit shall return to sources whence 
 It came. If life exists beyond the grave 
 Wherein a soul can recognize itself, 
 I know that memory of evil deeds 
 Is conscious hell, and highest heaven only 
 Conscious duty well performed. 
 And that all faith is measured by its works, 
 And Isms stand before the Judgment seat 
 Confronted by the inquiry, ' What bring 
 You here in purity of soul, what mite 
 Of worth for human good, and measure give 
 Above the measure meted out to you?' ' 
 
 If death is an eternal sleep it is 
 God's will, and I will not presume to will 
 It otherwise; ' To be or not to be,' 
 It matters not so far as duty goes. 
 
 "The fairest soul in this abode of death 
 And in another life, if such there be. 
 Is, that which doeth all things well, with faith 
 In God that justice shall prevail. 
 This is the story of my troubled past. 
 Perhaps a fair example of the life 
 Of average men who live in every land. 
 It seemed your wish that I should say as much, 
 And only hope that you are paid for time 
 


108 POEMS OF LOVE AND PHILOSOPHY. 
 
 Expended thus. Perhaps the lesson may 
 Assist you in the years to come; we all 
 Need counsel as we limping go along 
 The thorny road, encouraged by the hope 
 That he who suffers most for righteousness 
 Will ultimately reach the shining mark, 
 Set high above all sordid things, where ends 
 The constant wear of earthly pilgrimage. 
 
 " Farewell, the night stands near meridian, 
 The half-full moon has set, the tide is ebb; 
 And nature sleeps; may peace be with us all." 
 
 At this the Hermit closed his eyes, his lips 
 Were still and silence reigned in that abode. 
 Death was the welcome messenger that stood 
 Between two worlds and called the weary soul, 
 As does a loving mother whisper to 
 Her babe and sings an evening lullaby. 
 Most tenderly the people of the vale. 
 With many floral offerings, did lay 
 To rest the aged hermit by the side 
 Of his fair wife to sleep in silence there 
 While move the ages to the end of time. 
 


Yosemitc. 
 
 Whence art thou, spirit of the Evil Wind ? 
 And thy twin sister of the Ribbon Fall? 
 From womb of deepest chaos comest thou ? 
 Or did some late convulsion give thee birth ? 
 We will assume, that Vishnu wooed the " white 
 Eobed Goddess of the hills," and in his warmth 
 Of love, does melt her frozen heart, and tears 
 Of bliss her eyes suffuse, while Venus weaves 
 Therefrom " a Bridal A^eil " of diamond mist 
 And rainbow tints, so curved and charming that 
 The sun delights to linger on them, ere 
 " Cathedral Rock " its vesper bells engage. 
 
 These things to us reveal their mystery; 
 
 But whence the overhanging crags that hold 
 
 Aloft in dim outline, the crowning arch 
 
 Of heaven's azure, starlit canopy. 
 
 And frown like giant gods upon the deep 
 
 Recesses of the wooded vale beneath ? 
 
 Fair white-robed hills, for later Autumn clothed- 
 
 With green and gold of pine and cedar, for 
 
 A crown of waving plumage; will you please 
 
 A moment to forget your solemn grandeur, 
 
 And let your stony hearts, with human hopes 
 
 Bear sympathy, — and thus allow frail man 
 
 To learn a lesson of Divinity? 
 
 109 
 


110 POEMS OF LOVE AND PHILOSOPHY. 
 
 If answer hast thou not for me, consult 
 
 Thy lordly brother, proud '' Yosemite ; " 
 
 If knowledge yet abideth not with him, 
 
 Pray will you counsel " Rushing Water?" 
 
 And from " the Diamond Cataract," I'll weave 
 
 For you a jeweled crown of shining pearls! 
 
 All dumb and silent; not a single sound 
 
 To solve this mystery of all the ages? 
 
 Then speak to me, bright "Goddess of theVale ! " 
 
 Whence comes your crowning height? and thy grim mate, 
 
 The ball-domed sphinx, like " Martyr Mountain ? " 
 
 I do beseech a whisper from you now; 
 
 You are not dead; God's life is in you, as 
 
 It is in man; we breathe to gather from 
 
 The same eternal source of soul and mind ! 
 
 And what in Him is not, is not in us; 
 
 And what is not in us, does not exist ! 
 
 All silent as the grave of ages, gone 
 Around the cycles of eternity ! 
 Divest yourself of all this irony, 
 " Great Valley Chief," but second in command, 
 And learn me something of the things that were. 
 And teach me best how I can worship God ! 
 Is there no hope to gain a clew that may 
 Reveal the mandate, bringing forth so much 
 Of wonder 'midst these torn and shaggy hills ? 
 You are my elder brother, which I love; 
 Then give me half your heart a moment, so 
 That I may feel the common pulse of nature. 
 Beating through us all, as one in Him 
 Who doeth all things well, and I'm content. 
 And will refrain to further question you . 
 'Tis vain! One effort more and I am done! 
 


YOSEMITE. Ill 
 
 At last, to tbee I come, with invocation, 
 
 " O mighty Cloud Rest!" Tell me, if in truth, 
 
 Thou comest from the magic womb of time, 
 
 Forever hidden from the finite gaze? 
 
 Did God decree this wonderland for thee — 
 
 Or was it Fate that did ordain it so? 
 
 Long silence stood oppressed at coming change; 
 The somber mist turned pale with amber light; 
 As daybreak falls upon the crown of night; 
 Then rosy tinges of the coming sun, 
 Revealed the glory of that Awful One. 
 
 A tremor ran through all the crags and hills 
 As when in fright one feels his body quake, 
 And clutches object nearest for support. 
 The Vernal Falls turned green with envy at 
 The sight of that supreme uplifting — 
 Hooded round about with drifting snow; 
 While "Old Nevada " splintered up in mist 
 Her shining robes, to make a regal crown. 
 Dove-tailed about with bits of rainbow^. 
 That some attention might remain to her. 
 Grand was the view the upland gods beheld ! 
 Deep to the westward, winding in and out 
 Among the shrubs and trees and crowning crags, 
 The silver river, sunlit, sheen-like, seemed 
 A belt about the waist of fairyland, 
 That girdled more of beauty, grandeur and 
 Divine, than all enfoldings of the sweetest forms 
 That lavish nature has vouchsafed to man. 
 
 In silence, Expectation sat dumbfounded; 
 Sere, intent and still, the hoary heads 
 


112 POEMS OF LOVE AND PHILOSOPHY. 
 
 That guard have kept for many ages past, 
 
 lu all this waste of crowning solitudes, 
 
 Frowned down upon " the Brother Twins," who stood 
 
 Upright and tip-toed for a better view. 
 
 Surrounded by his subjects, dressed in white, 
 
 On high Sierra's pure and burnished throne, 
 
 With face to westward, scanning many leagues 
 
 Of intervening woodland, hill and dale, 
 
 Did great "Mount Whitney," blank with wonder, gaze. 
 
 And in this hush of sound and waiting time, 
 
 Where seemed to hang an age of doubt and fear — 
 
 In every breath, great "Cloud Rest" murmured thus: 
 
 " Foj" long, revolving ages, I, in silence 
 
 Held great Nature's secret, and designed 
 
 To hold it to the end. The magic key 
 
 Which chance hath given thee, unlocks my lips; 
 
 And now beneath the garb of theory, 
 
 Of which the book-fools prate so learnedly, 
 
 I will relate some antecedents. 
 
 " God rules! and next to Him in grandeur stands 
 
 These adamantine walls, o'er which have I 
 
 So long and faithfully presided. 
 
 Deep in the distance of the mighty past, 
 
 There was a time when this stupendous gorge 
 
 Was not. The rough-hewn hills which sat around 
 
 Like loyal subjects, waiting my command, 
 
 And all those higher, barren granite peaks — 
 
 Once held as giant pillars of the State, — 
 
 Knew no severance. Peacefully we dwelt 
 
 Together, massive, sere and winter crowned. 
 
 But potent forces, silent grew beneath. 
 
 The cooling earth did slowly crust about 
 


YOSEMITE. 113 
 
 The inner cauldron of the boiling flood; 
 And as the swaying igneoiis grew less, 
 An intervening space was formed, in which 
 A smoldering hell-force grew prodigious. 
 
 " The earth did swing, as does a whirling top. 
 And reel beneath, then came the mighty crash! 
 God's great foundation stones were rent in twain. 
 The hills were broken up and chopped about 
 Like rolling billows on a troubled sea. 
 Destruction stood aghast and wondered at 
 Her awful work. The wealth of pent-up pearls 
 Did rush with reckless fury round the gorge, 
 And each division, severed from the rest, 
 Did seek to find escape. From point to point, 
 With murmur and complaint, the waters surged. 
 Until the verge of some high cliff was reached, 
 And then, like tramping soldiers, coming on 
 Behind the lead, at pace too swift for check. 
 They leaped together down the yawning gulf ! 
 And thus the push of foremost from behind, 
 Goes on and on forever, 
 
 " Down in the mist of time 
 This wonder place did not exist as now — 
 Some clefts of granite rock and running rills — 
 And trees with intervening vales between — 
 But down and down a narrow gorge of death 
 These perpendicular walls did stretch below. 
 Till smoke and fire and fumes of gloomy hell 
 Did seethe and boil at touch of rushing streams, 
 That sought to cool the crater as they fell. 
 Instead, as now, of counting flights by scores, 
 These falls then leaped as many thousand feet. 
 


114 POEMS OF LOVE AND PHILOSOPHY. 
 
 Curved and lashed to fury as they went. 
 Cycling ages since have passed away; 
 Decay has scored her many victories; 
 Rock by rock, the yawning gulf was filled 
 From height of mountain spur and crater cap, 
 With silt and drift from sloping eastern hills, 
 Washed in from drifting snow and winter floods, 
 Did make this valley what it is, and set 
 Apart by Time's decree, these rugged cliffs. 
 
 " If doubt of this great truth possess thee, dig 
 
 Into the bowels of the center vale, 
 
 A thousand fathoms deep, and there you'll find 
 
 The crumbling edges of the hidden walls, 
 
 And round about, slim-based, projecting crags; 
 
 And in between, dark caverns, grim and old, 
 
 Filled in with rubbish of ten thousand years. 
 
 God reigns! Decay does hang in every wind, 
 
 And ere another cycle passes out, 
 
 These crowning heights of flint and adamant. 
 
 Shall surely crumble, into level plain, 
 
 Or into rolling slopes, so gentle, that 
 
 The plowman's pride will be to smoothly turn 
 
 The yielding soil, with sturdy team and share; 
 
 To plant his crops and garner yellow grain. 
 
 Aye, all these feathery cataracts shall fail. 
 
 And disappear before the march of time, 
 
 As have God's children of these rugged hills — 
 
 Destiny ruled, ruined and forgotten! 
 
 ** If wish is thine to reach the soul of nature. 
 Claim thou kinship with the shining worlds 
 And learn a lesson which each sun and star 
 And satellite, has mastered long ago: 
 


YOSEMITE. 115 
 
 That innate force, by God's decree, does move 
 
 In harmony the mighty universe, 
 
 With every shining system leaning on 
 
 The others for support and sympathy. 
 
 So man should feel, in spirit and in truth, 
 
 A part of all that is, and realize 
 
 That purity of life with love and aid 
 
 For every living soul, is all there is 
 
 Of worth in all religions in the world. 
 
 So all are ever equal in the scale 
 
 Of God's ordaining, as the water drops 
 
 That fill the vortex of the mighty sea. 
 
 " Man, alone, of all his Maker's works. 
 Has failed in his appointing. Mind he has. 
 And well designed, but warped to selfish ends. 
 That make him strut about, as if he had 
 No other aim upon the earth, but clutch 
 With robber hands, each pearl and seeming prize 
 In sight, regardless of his brother's rights; 
 And helpless Want goes crying from his door. 
 As if the fullness of the earth was not 
 Designed by God for every human need! 
 
 '* There seems no hope to suage this thirst for gain 
 And love of pomp and tinsel show in man. 
 Divinely formed, and yet a vapid fool 
 In all things great or wise, for human good. 
 For glut of wealth he'll hazard sense and soul, 
 And friendship spurn, as if it grew on trees, 
 Instead of precious jewel, richer than 
 A shining gem, or flower sweeter than 
 Sirisha bloom on brow of Sakoontala. 
 


116 POEMS OF LOVE AND PHILOSOPHY. 
 
 " We grieve that it is so, and warn you that 
 The past reveals the future of the race! 
 Long, cycling ages come and go, into 
 The ocean of the past, while nations rise 
 And flourish for a time with peace and love, 
 Then fall like giant pines upon the hills. 
 And others grow from ashes of decaj:! 
 
 " If thou, in conflict with the greedy world. 
 Yet have a heart and soul for better things; 
 Then seek to know that God forever reigns; 
 In truth, to know Him, is to know thyself; 
 To know thyself, is knowledge of the laws 
 That permeate the circling universe; 
 Without which, chaos would control, as does 
 The wind, the dust, or wafting heather down. 
 
 "■ I leave you now, this is the last recall; 
 
 But ere my voice is hushed in solitude, 
 
 Some counsel will I, and a warning give, 
 
 Which, well observed, with faith, will safely guide 
 
 You in the golden pathway up to God! 
 
 The major hates of all the world are based 
 
 Upon the Isms, bred for selfish ends. 
 
 Your Maker hath no need of advocates 
 
 To talk much doggerel on sacred things 
 
 They know not of and try to prove a lie 
 
 By conjured text of horrid infamy. 
 
 And call it Brahma, or some Molock work. 
 
 " The only blind are those who will not see. 
 God is the living soul of everything 
 In universal harmony with Him; 
 And every sin is violated law. 
 


YOSEMITE. 117 
 
 Praise is only truth personified; 
 Religion is the love of things that are; 
 Peace with God is duty well performed; 
 Heaven is but mind of purity; 
 •And hell is conscience crucified upon 
 The altar of remorse." 
 


Yillc de Saint ]Vazaire. 
 
 [This good ship, " French, by manning and in name, " left 
 New York on Friday, March 4, 1897, bound for Port au Prince. 
 Hayti or Hispanolia. Two days out, she encountered a fearful 
 storm off Cape Hatteras, in which the vessel foundered. Of the 
 eighty-two passengers and crew, only four are known to have 
 escaped with their lives.] 
 
 'Twas on an evil-omened morning in 
 
 That month of all the year, which dresses for 
 
 A summer's day and yet so fickle that 
 
 Before an hour passes she has changed 
 
 Her mood and dons a robe of doubtful hue, 
 
 With flounces frilled and fulled for winter's wear, 
 
 That Ville de Saint Nazaire — by manning French, 
 
 And make, staunch in timber, mast and sail — 
 
 Did leave the Hudson, weird and shadowed by 
 
 Old Gotham, bound for port in Hispanolia, 
 
 Which Columbus thought the Ophir, whence 
 
 Fine gold and pearls did flow like shining stream 
 
 Into the cofi'ers of that Hebrew king. 
 
 Who had no equal in the ages passed — 
 
 Where the Vega Real, watered by 
 
 The Yuma, sweet lamos and the plain 
 
 Of Cayes to the westward, green and fertile, 
 
 Fair beyond Arcadian dream; 
 
 And as an outlook, crowning all the land. 
 
 With head above the morning mist, stands old 
 
 Cibo, clothed with whispering pines and palms 
 
 And roble oak, and wbere the richest fruits 
 
 And fairest flowers grow in beauty so 
 
 Profusely that, with loss of Eden, Eve 
 
 Would have lived, supreme and happy there. 
 
 118 
 


VILLE DE SAINT NAZAIRE. 119 
 
 Thus bound aud mauned and moved by steam and sail 
 
 And wind, the vessel glided onward, while 
 
 The galley crew and passengers, with cheer 
 
 And sport and pun, and all the little ones 
 
 Went romping round the deck with hide and seek, 
 
 Passed pleasantly the breezy, fleeting hours. 
 
 Two days moved out upon the flood of time. 
 
 While Joy in flowing robes, sat queen of hearts! 
 
 And then there came a change. The ship had reached 
 
 That storm bound headland, where the gulf stream 
 
 flows 
 And vibrates like a monster of the deep, 
 AVitli bulk of form so huge and breath so hot. 
 That currents from the shore-line rush to fill 
 The vortex made in air and sea by this 
 Old Leviathan, ceaseless onward moving, 
 When commotion holds communion with 
 The damned and all things human, helpless, 
 Drifting, flounders in the raging flood. 
 
 Oh, who has ever seen a storm at sea? 
 
 God moves the troubled waters there alone — 
 
 No fetish, old triumvirate; but One 
 
 Eternal as the everlasting hills. 
 
 Fair isles and woodland dells and mountain crags, 
 
 Beget in simple minds a host of gods: 
 
 But God is God forever on the deep! 
 
 Amid the warring elements of wind 
 
 Aud wave, that fight their battles o'er and o'er, 
 
 For such dominion as the gods abhor. 
 
 And pile up wreckage on the dreary coast, 
 
 Where ships go down and precious lives are lost, 
 
 Did Sunday morning, sere and bleak and cold. 
 
 With haggard look and blood- spots on the sun, 
 


120 POEMS OF LOVE AND PHILOSOPHY. 
 
 Find the gallant vessel speeding onward. 
 The murky sky grew dark, the ocean breathed 
 With ominous omen; and anxious Care 
 Sat silent on the Captain's swarthy face; 
 Sailors ordered, moved as though they knew 
 The danger lurking in the heaving sea; 
 While others stood like pillars at their post. 
 
 Squall on squall, came howling by, as if 
 
 To say, " Hell holds dominion further down!" 
 
 Every sail was furled; the masts and spars 
 
 Appeared as remnants left, all sere and bleak — 
 
 Of some old forest, tangled in the rage 
 
 Of tempest roar or western cyclone. 
 
 And when the weary day had passed and night 
 
 Set in, the bravest heart on board grew faint 
 
 W^ith fear, for every heaving billow floods 
 
 The ship; great shoals of foam and surf poured down 
 
 The hatchways; engines ceased to move; the wheels 
 
 Stood still; fires quenched; the vessel logged 
 
 With bilge, and rushing water from the deck. 
 
 The bowsprit with the bridal ropes about 
 
 Its mouth did cower like a charger in 
 
 Some mortal combat; groaning like a thing 
 
 Of life; the vessel rolled from side to side, 
 
 As if death wounded by some fatal dart 
 
 Of steel, transfixed within its heaving heart. 
 
 " Low twelve," rang out the sturdy night watch, 
 
 But not the looked-for word that, "All is well." 
 
 And many felt as if it were the knell, 
 
 Before the leap into eternity; 
 
 So, every soul on board now sought the deck. 
 
 For hope of rescue seemed suspended by 
 


VILLE DE SAINT NAZAIRE. 121 
 
 A hair. Not one betrayed the horror in 
 
 His heart, except by blauchiag faces. 
 
 Freezing hands clung on to billiard, stays 
 
 And running rigging-reft and lagging. 
 
 Every eye was on the Captain as 
 
 He swayed upon the bridge. " The vessel's lost; 
 
 No other hope is left us but the boats. 
 
 Let go!" Four of them floundered in the flood 
 
 A moment, then were crushed to splinters by 
 
 The ship. A lull, and then the other four 
 
 Were lowered safely in the wreckage lee, 
 
 And all on board were crowded into them. 
 
 Captain Berry took command of one, 
 
 Containing near two score of souls, all told. 
 
 Including one poor, weary woman, and 
 
 Four little ones, half-clad and weeping sorely. 
 
 The signal lights were carried in this boat. 
 
 And all the others ordered, it to follow. 
 
 But wind and wave too mighty for the men. 
 
 Did scatter them like feathers on the sea, 
 
 To meet each other not again forever. 
 
 Besides the drenching spray that swashed and flew 
 
 About the boat like white-robed diamonds. 
 
 The night was cold beyond endurance; 
 
 The oarsmen heaved and tugged and splashed amid 
 
 The ridging waters, with a stroke too deep, 
 
 And then a skip, with home thrusts in between; 
 
 And tiller held by one with nerves of steel, 
 
 And thus brave hearts, with hands half frozen, kept 
 
 The prow to windward — shoreward leaning, while 
 
 The others bailed the boat of foam and bilge. 
 
 And so the weary night moved slowly on. 
 
 As if she lingered in delight to witness 
 


122 POEMS OF LOVE AND PHILOSOPHY. 
 
 Human woe. Some, dazed and frozen, threw 
 
 Themselves into the sea, to rest and rock 
 
 Forever in the cradle of the deep. 
 
 There is no name for such a death! The brave 
 
 And laggard down together go, thus prone 
 
 And helpless as a cedar in a cyclone. 
 
 Yet all this horror strong men can endure 
 
 And whimper not at fate's decree, but to 
 
 Behold the prattling babe and little forms 
 
 Half-famished, clad, and freezing, clinging to 
 
 Their dyiug mother, begging for a crust, 
 
 Or comfort, does despair the bravest heart. 
 
 And sets the soul of anguish on the lips 
 
 Of him who hath a spark of sympathy. 
 
 O God! The weary, watchful hours of 
 
 That gruesome wreck, tossed on the flood, with hope 
 
 Stagnating in the heart of those within 
 
 The little skipper. Day by day the crew 
 
 Grew less, as many took their leave, distressed 
 
 Beyond endurance. Others died from chill 
 
 And hunger, with the mother and her brood. 
 
 With health and home upon a spot of God's 
 
 Green earth, the days move on like passing dreams. 
 
 Oft fraught with visions of the blessed, where none 
 
 Could wish a moment spent more pleasantly, 
 
 And all do grieve that hours are so fleet. 
 
 But save us from the ocean's wreckage! 
 
 Where sits the demoned hunger, gnawiug at 
 
 The vitals; thirst that maddens for a draught 
 
 Of lashing foam, or gulp of that blue hell broth, 
 
 Surging further down, that burns into 
 
 The life blood like a fire never quenched 
 
 Until its victim seeks relief beneath 
 
 The frowning waters, coral stranded. 
 


VILLE DE SAINT NAZAIRE. 123 
 
 Robed in seaweed for eternal sleep. 
 
 Thus surrounded, floundered on the boat — 
 
 Old Time, in mockery stood still; the days 
 
 Seemed years; the hours, mouths, and moments, days, 
 
 Half halting with the ages as they passed. 
 
 A week out on the lashing waves, with want 
 
 Aboard, unbridled for his human gorge; 
 
 The little craft, unmanned, V^y helpless, drifting, 
 
 When was sighted off the Fenish Islands by 
 
 The Hilda. All were dead but four wan forms 
 
 And they were raving with delirium. 
 
 Three bodies rolled with every swell upon 
 
 The boat's wet bottom, while at stern there sat 
 
 A form, half clad, upright and rigid, yet 
 
 Still firmly holding to the restless tiller, 
 
 With eyes wide open, peering forward through 
 
 The mist and spray, as if in duty bound, 
 
 Alive or dead, to keep the boat afloat. 
 
 And save the wreck of human life remaining. 
 
 God seems to have ordained it that the soul 
 
 Of man should be revealed when ruined hopes 
 
 And desolation overtake the forms 
 
 We love, and death's pale horse sweeps on 
 
 Towai'd the highlands of eternity. 
 
 But then, endurance of the bravest hath 
 
 Its limit; so it was with Pierre X. Mucore. 
 
 His spirit stood a moment on his face 
 
 And broke a smile upon his rigid lips — 
 
 For as he looked and steered he surely saw 
 
 The blissful haven of eternal rest 
 
 Where sorrow ends and joy forever reigns. 
 


Xlhc Lovcv^Q farewelU 
 
 Leona, harsh Leona, how 
 
 I loved thee, tongue can never tell. 
 
 Leona, harsh Leona, now 
 
 "With bitterness I say farewell. 
 
 The hope of all my early years, 
 
 Has turned to wormwood and gall, — 
 
 I go, but shall restrain my tears, 
 And no return shall meet your call. 
 
 You did by words and winning ways, 
 And all the charm that love displays. 
 
 Enchant my heart to sing your praise, 
 And kindle longings to a blaze. 
 
 Ah ! laugh you may, you cunning elf. 
 Ah ! laugh to scorn, this passion mine, 
 
 Ah ! laugh, and look upon yourself, 
 As one above me, and divine. 
 
 Hadst thou restrained me in advance, 
 Hadst thou but said, " It is in vain," 
 
 Hadst thou but warned me in my trance. 
 It would have saved my soul from pain. 
 
 But like a fawn to me you skipped. 
 When in the garden came I near. 
 
 And elfish-like, to me you tipped 
 Your hand and lip for welcome cheer. 
 
 124 
 


THE lover's farewell. 125 
 
 How could I help to love a thing, 
 
 So lovely and so sweet to me ; 
 How could I help to feel the sting, 
 
 As he who toys the honey bee ? 
 
 And now you say you had no thought — 
 
 That I was like a little shad, 
 With crumbs and pin-hook glibly caught, 
 
 And then complain — " It is too bad !" 
 
 I know the power you possess, 
 
 To make a man an arrant fool ; 
 I know the charm of your caress. 
 
 And laughing, send a heart to shoal ! 
 
 It is all ended now, my lark, 
 
 I know your method and can prove — 
 You strike a blaze, without a spark 
 
 Of sympathy, or light of love. 
 
 Laugh on, and giggle as you may — 
 
 I feel the steel within my breast, 
 I will not hope you to repay, 
 
 This poignant sorrow and unrest. 
 
 The blush of youth is on your cheek, 
 
 A smile enchants your lip to curl, 
 You will the hearts of others seek. 
 
 And when they're found, you'll call them "churl." 
 
 But in the matchless tune you play 
 
 Upon the chords of manly love, — 
 Beware ! there's sure to come a day. 
 
 That will, in truth, your ruin prove. 
 
 The sweet forget-me-not does bloom. 
 And crumble into shining dust, 
 


1'26 POEMS OF LOVE AND PHILOSOPHY- 
 
 But leaves a fragrance on its tomb, 
 That tells of love and sweetest trust. 
 
 And so it is with all things pure, 
 
 And so it is with loving souls. 
 Yet fickleness cannot endure, 
 
 But ashes to its lips it holds. 
 
 Farewell, your bitter day will come ; 
 
 Farewell, your youth will soon be gone ; 
 Farewell, your calloused heart, all dumb, 
 
 Will gasp for help when there is none. 
 
 I will not leave thee with a curse, 
 I've loved too well to harbor hate — 
 
 I've loved too well, and now can scarce 
 Resign thee to thy coming fate. 
 
 I give my hand and thus we part ; 
 
 I give my hand and wish you well ; 
 I give my hand but not my heart, 
 
 For such as yours is love in hell. 
 
 A time will come, as come it must. 
 When all your fickleness will fail ; 
 
 A time will come, when in the dust, 
 
 You may your thoughtless words bewail. 
 
 I go as one who daggers feel, 
 
 Who seeks to hide from further ill. 
 
 And temper up his heart to steel, 
 Against the passion with me still. 
 
 Farewell ! and may your faith abide. 
 That justice has been done to me ; 
 
 Farewell ! I go, as does the tide. 
 That sighing, dies upon the sea. 
 


Carmcna^s Curse* 
 
 The miner's wife stood in the door, 
 
 The miner's wife at Hazleton, 
 With care her features spreading o'er, 
 
 From stint of fare her husband won. 
 
 Her dress was neat, with threadbare sleeves, 
 With mended skirt, of faded check, 
 
 With apron tattered at the eaves, 
 And ribbon bound about the neck. 
 
 Her feet were shoeless, white and bare, 
 Her face was of the Grecian mould, 
 
 Loose flowed, unbound, her yellow hair, 
 The counterpart of yellow gold. 
 
 Close pressed within her loving arms, 
 Her child was mantled on her breast, 
 
 While throb to throb the lifeblood warms, 
 The little one, with hand caressed. 
 
 Her eyes were strained far down the street. 
 Toward the miner's caverned hole. 
 
 As if expectant there to meet 
 The living image of her soul. 
 
 The cruel guns ! She heard the blast, 
 That murdered twenty mining men ; 
 
 She listened, watched each face that passed. 
 Before her on the slippery lane. 
 
 127 
 


128 POEMS OF LOVE AND PHILOSOPHY. 
 
 Then came in sight an ambulance, 
 Made of a miner's coat and tore, 
 
 And while she stood beside in trance, 
 They bore it through her humble door. 
 
 They gently raised it in their strength, 
 And laid in on the cheerless bed, 
 
 And there she saw, stretched out at length, 
 Her noble husband, pale and dead. 
 
 One shriek she gave, and to the floor. 
 Fell like a stick or cobblestone, 
 
 To see her helpmate grim with gore, 
 Her life, her earthly all, her own. 
 
 Dazed in the passing days tliat came. 
 Upon this harrow of her heart. 
 
 She grieved in silence, called his name : 
 " My dearest Leo, who us part? " 
 
 Misfortunes come, not like the tramp. 
 
 Wan, sad and singly, alone. 
 But press in squads and with us camp. 
 
 Until all hope's forever gone. 
 
 Her babe, unnurtured, life went out. 
 
 As does a fitful fire spark. 
 As does a glow worm creep about. 
 
 Then close its wings, and all is dark. 
 
 Suns came and went, she saw them not, 
 Days passed like beads upon a string, 
 
 While listless by her little cot. 
 
 She watched the midnight's sable wiug. 
 
 Then came another trial, fast — 
 The last she did endure but one: 
 


carmena's curse. 129 
 
 The words " evicted " chilling blast, 
 Fell ou her ears at Hazletou. 
 
 Her store of rags upon the street, 
 
 With ghoulish glee and curse were cast ; 
 
 With hands about her breast she beat — 
 In tears she said, " This is the last." 
 
 That night she kneeled beside the grave, 
 Her child's and husband's — one with two, 
 
 And made a vow to help the brave, 
 This hellish work of fiends undo. 
 
 '' Is this the work of men? " she said, 
 
 " Is this a land where Christians dwell ? " 
 
 " That sanctions this — these miners dead, 
 This tyranny that's worse than hell ? " 
 
 " This ghoulish wealth — the miner's blood. 
 
 That warm is shed upon the earth, 
 Ascends like incense to their God, 
 
 And gives the tramp an anarch birth. 
 
 ^' For every creature now that lives. 
 
 There's full enough without this strife. 
 For God to every creature gives. 
 
 The right of substance for his life. 
 
 " If greed shall take the toiler's bread, 
 
 Through forms of ill begotten law, 
 If greed has filled these graves with dead, 
 
 Soon Justice will the dagger draw. 
 
 '' Old Shylock's millions running high, 
 
 While millions hunger for a crust — 
 While millions pine away and die. 
 
 And mingle with their mother dust. 
 


130 POEMS OF LOVE AND PHILOSOPHY. 
 
 " Shall belch his lucre out agaiu, 
 While woe and want, in frenzied ire, 
 
 Shall drench in blood the street and plain 
 And lash the rich with whips of fire. 
 
 " I will not rest, God help me on, 
 
 To do, and as a woman dare, 
 The kings of earth to help dethrone. 
 
 And help the millions in despair. 
 
 " God blast the Judge, his Judge made law- 
 God blast the fiend that has no heart, 
 
 Who in his meshes, thousands draw. 
 To rob at will and leave no part. 
 
 " It is enough — the die is cast ! 
 
 It is enough — it is the last ! 
 The shackles shall from labor fall ! 
 
 Or Revolution ruin all ! " 
 


)V[ay de Veres* 
 
 Full fifty years have passed since then, 
 And little boys have grown to men, 
 And men have grown to hoary age, 
 And passed like shadows from the Stage, 
 From all their work and active life, 
 Of sorrows full and much of strife. 
 
 The little maids have reached their bloom. 
 
 Have reached beyond and to the tomb, 
 
 Have many fair and noble gone, 
 
 As dreams of early youth have flown — 
 
 Since May de Veres left my side, 
 
 With angel fairies for a guide. 
 
 Like tides that flood the dreary beach. 
 With sobs and sighs but never speech, 
 Has been the ebb and bitter flow, 
 Of heart and soul and earthly woe. 
 For her I lost for heaven's gain — 
 For her I loved — but not in vain. 
 
 A fever came, as does a thief — 
 Its stay was harsh but very brief, 
 It robbed the world of fairest gem, 
 It robbed poor hearts, and left to them 
 Who mourned the lovely treasure lost — 
 But faded leaves as of a frost. 
 
 Her dolly age had hardly fled, 
 Nor hardly had it found its bed, 
 


132 POEMS OF LOVE AND PHILOSOPHY. 
 
 In all its finest clothing dressed, 
 Sweet kissed and in her arm caressed 
 And laid away to garret rest — 
 Ere I had been supremely blessed. 
 
 Blessed in her love when but a child, 
 Blessed in her love with rapture wild- 
 Aud ere the warmth of sunny years 
 Had known of want or worldly cares, 
 I had no other thought than hers, 
 And with our play oft mingled tears. 
 
 Her father stern, forbid the coo, 
 Her mother's love was ever true — 
 And when she knew her little maid 
 Was skittish — in degree afraid, 
 As oft she did essay to be — 
 She plead that I would with her gee. 
 
 Her home was in a little glen, 
 Just where the vale sloped into hill, 
 Just on the merge of mountain fen, 
 Just by the run of rippling rill. 
 Where alders glistened in the light. 
 And hawthornes blossomed fair to sight. 
 
 The sweetest hearts lived in that cot, 
 Fair flowers grew about the door. 
 Fair walks about the garden run. 
 Fair vines the porchway spreading o'er, 
 As if to cheer the lovely one. 
 And seemed to say, " Forget-me-not." 
 
 It seems a phantom of the mind, 
 
 So many days have flown since then. 
 
 So many years of sorrow passed. 
 


MAY DE VERES. ISi 
 
 Since plucked we flowers in the glen, 
 And loved each other to the last, 
 While left we care and work behind. 
 
 Oh ! can it be that it is so ? 
 
 It seems a dream so far away — 
 
 It seems a dream of saddest years — 
 
 It seems a dream without decay, 
 
 Because embalmed in bitter tears — 
 
 Because I can no further go. 
 
 Though wanes my saddened lamp of life, 
 'Twas not in vain she went awaj", 
 'Twas not in vain she loved and died, 
 'Twas not in vain my lovely May 
 Did not become my earthly bride — 
 Did not become my wedded wife. 
 
 Oh God ! how sad is thy decree ! 
 Her parents grieved beyond control; 
 They drooped when Autumn's flowers fell, 
 As more and more they turned to soul, 
 And went to her in peace to dwell. 
 And one large grave contains them all. 
 And I alone am left with thee ! 
 
 I feel as one upon a shore, 
 More gloomy than the darkest night. 
 With grief-stained face I wander o'er 
 The sands of time without a light. 
 Save that we have to mortals given — 
 Fond hope of better things in Heaven ! 
 
 The cottage where my heart is left. 
 In glen below the crowning cleft, 
 Has fallen into sad decay, 
 


134 POEMS OF LOVE AND PHILOSOPHY. 
 
 And not a flower left to blow, 
 And not a path or sunny way 
 To mark where all the beauty grew. 
 
 My soul does brood upon this scene, 
 My mind with all its memories green. 
 Comes here for rest, comes here for thought. 
 Comes here for grief that has no word, 
 Comes here for anguish deeply wrought. 
 For voice of her that's never heard. 
 
 But then she lived not all in vain ! 
 The soul of man is not so true 
 To things of earth, as those above ; 
 For while we linger here in pain, 
 We try of ill to much undo, 
 For worthiness of those we love. 
 
 I live as one who lives the past, 
 I live as one who's had his day. 
 As lives a tree that's felt the blast. 
 And in its heart does feel decay, 
 And longs alike for earthly rest 
 With soul to soul among the blessed. 
 
 There is no death where she has flown, 
 There is no sin where she has gone. 
 But purer far than roses bloom. 
 I'll claim her always for my own, 
 And live as one who lives to gain 
 A crown of peace — with her to reign. 
 


Soul Rarmony* 
 
 I love the streams that sing along, 
 The mountain's shadowed glen ; 
 
 I love the forest — not the throng 
 Of anxious, wear}' men. 
 
 Life's fondest dreams are found alone 
 
 Among the woodland hills, 
 Or where the warblers crown the zone, 
 
 With melody that thrills. 
 
 The sadness of the world is wrought — 
 
 Engendered by the race — 
 Of those who in their hearts have fought 
 
 The talisman of peace. 
 
 The Ignis fatuus of the hope, 
 That wealth will give us bliss, 
 
 Is but a strand of rotten rope — 
 The devil's hit or miss. 
 
 The glory of the world is not, 
 
 The gaudy dress aud rod; 
 Nor by the glittering gold begot, 
 
 And worshipped as a god. 
 
 How vain are all these empty shows 
 
 Of tinsel-burthened prize, 
 Where Mammon into greatness grows, 
 
 While love and friendship dies. 
 
 135 
 


136 POEMS OF LOVE AND PHILOSOPHY. 
 
 The steepled church is nob the place, 
 Where God will hear the call 
 
 Of those who seek to see his face, 
 With love and hope for all. 
 
 If purity of life we seek 
 
 Religion of the heart, 
 Kind words of love to others speak, 
 
 And bid the wrong depart. 
 
 Go counsel God deep in the wood, 
 And list the whispering trees ; 
 
 The warbling birds in cadence flood 
 The wings of every breeze. 
 
 Put down your breast upon the ground, 
 
 Your heart upon the sod ; 
 And throb to throb your soul is found, 
 
 In unity with God. 
 
 Sweet peace and love will come to thee, 
 Like incense through the air 
 
 Falls on the triune, one in three, 
 And three in one are there. 
 


I^ime* 
 
 How unconcerned and willful do 
 
 We squander Time ! Always present, yet 
 
 Forever moving ! Half unheeded in 
 
 Our hurry for continual change, 
 
 With hope for better days. His footprints fall 
 
 Relentlessly upon each living thing, 
 
 The impress there remaining ever more, 
 
 Regardless of all wish of puny man. 
 
 His course is never stayed ! No bugle call, 
 
 No moving legions on the field of blood ; 
 
 The raging storms, the rolling floods or crush 
 
 Of worlds, are powerless to stay an ebb 
 
 Of that relentless tide that moves at his 
 
 Commanding, down among the shadows of 
 
 The dead, where silence is forever dumb. 
 
 His rounding out the dimpled cheeks of youth, 
 And giving to the lover all his dreams of bliss, 
 And every hope we have does hang upon 
 His evanescent wing, like lily bloom — 
 Or silver lining to a passing cloud. 
 How many gaudy castles, formed along 
 His pathway, in the morning of our lives, 
 Have tumbled into dust and bitterness 
 Of heart — is all remaining of the thought ! 
 How strange the bittersweet — the bliss and gall, 
 That crowd each other on the run of Time 
 Like black and purple beads upou a string. 
 That round and round with him forever go ! 
 
 1S7 
 


138 POEMS OF LOVE AND PHILOSOPHY. 
 
 How sad the thought that with a beaming smile 
 Of promise on his lips, that beckons us 
 To follow in his labyrinths, for weal 
 Or woe — we go in faith, and trustingly ! 
 
 Yet while we go, we know that every step 
 
 We tread, there's echoes from the dead — that all 
 
 Who follow him must grieve for ruined hopes 
 
 And disappointments — dim with flowing tears. 
 
 But then, Old Fate has so decreed it, for 
 
 He holds a hand above us with a rod 
 
 Of iron to compel obedience. 
 
 The only consolation left us is — 
 
 That precious hours passing are our own, 
 
 In which to fit all for eternit3\ 
 
 We should improve these moments as they fly, 
 
 For all the wisdom of a world of men 
 
 Can never tell by learning or in art, 
 
 The record of a single day unborn. 
 


6vU Omens* 
 
 In bitterness of sonl there comes, 
 
 Like storms that brew upon the mighty main, 
 
 Where winds prevail amid cold sleet and rain, 
 
 And on the shores runs high the heaving tide — 
 
 While clothed in darkness, demons onward ride 
 
 With grinning front above the raging flood, 
 
 And dismal voice that echoes up to God: 
 
 A cataclasm in affairs of men 
 
 Approaches, such as there has seldom been. 
 
 Like noble form of some great goddess born, 
 The Nation sleeps, all sere, with mantle torn; 
 Her feet unshod, her lovely shoulders bare, 
 And in her eyes, great tears are gathered there, 
 Because, though slumber dims the mortal sight, 
 Within her soul there shines a conscious light 
 That ill betides of coming troubles deep. 
 While weeping thus, in pain, she tries to sleep. 
 
 This silent grief that from her lips escape, 
 Has caused her people to believe a rape 
 Has been committed on the form they love. 
 And now are anxious for a chance to prove 
 Where is the vandal who has done the deed ? 
 Where is the wrong that makes the nation bleed ? 
 Where is the hand that laid the goddess low 
 And struck the garland from her placid brow ? 
 


140 POEMS OF LOVE AND PHILOSOPHY. 
 
 The murmur first, was like the sighing sea, 
 Or like a soul that struggles to be free, 
 That grows by sobs into a mighty wail. 
 As howls the wind about a shivered sail, 
 Until the Nation seems as if despair, 
 Would come to men and women everywhere, 
 As face to face they turn, as if to know 
 What hand is this that would the State undo? 
 
 As scudding clouds foretell the coming gale ; 
 As frozen snow and rain, the rattling hail — 
 The flood kept back so long, of burning tears — 
 The crop of anguish grown for many years ; 
 The famished infant in its mother's arms 
 Should bring the Kation fear and great alarm, 
 That will not down while millions short of food 
 Lift up their voice in prayer to God. 
 
 The scales are falling from the people's eyes, 
 The mists of doubt from minds obscure arise; 
 And now, as comes increasing light, thej^ see 
 That courts of justice (?) grow the Upas tree ; 
 That trusts behind them stand with hellish glare, 
 And bid them serve the people, if they dare ! 
 And as these Judges know old Shylock's stealth, 
 They chose to serve these men of sordid wealth. 
 
 The public press contends that all is right, 
 That all the trouble is, bold cranks affright 
 " Old Confidence," and seek to keep away 
 The re-appearance of a brighter day. 
 And every ghoul and every beast of prey. 
 Who robs and kills, re-echoes, " better day," 
 And try with skill to ebb the rising flood. 
 While all their aids declare, " There is no God." 
 


EVIL OMENS. 141 
 
 There is no God but gold and lust and greed ; 
 And thus distressed, the Nation's gone to seed, 
 Amid the wreck and glory of her past — 
 Amid confusion that will ever last — 
 Until the people, hand to hand, contend 
 Against the monsters, who their forces lend 
 To thwart all justice ; robbers give their aid 
 And laugh to scorn a Nation thus betrayed. 
 
 All hope and truth have not forever gone; 
 
 All honor has not from the Nation flown ; 
 
 Pale through the gloom that now obscures the light, 
 
 Like sunbeams breaking through the darkest night — 
 
 I see a gleam of hope, as tops the whispering pine. 
 
 When morning comes apace with light divine, 
 
 And with it comes the echo through the laud — 
 
 " Hail Brother, friend, come join us heart and hand !" 
 
 As drops of water, mingled, make the flood ; 
 As mites of dust, the universe of God, 
 So little hands and hearts united hold 
 A wealth more precious far than gods of gold. 
 A Nation's trust is in their mighty arms, 
 To bear her flag on high, when social storms 
 Arise from wrongs imposed upon the race. 
 By those who rule and grind the people's face. 
 
 Strong hands and hearts in union, joined with truth. 
 Can- give the Nation sere, immortal youth ; 
 Can save the Ship of State that drifts ashore. 
 Amid the rocks and reefs and billows' roar. 
 Where wrecks of all the ages heaping, hoard 
 With loss of all the clans that went on board 
 So let each one assist to tack the sail 
 And hold with might the guiding tiller wheel. 
 


142 POEMS OF LOVE AND PHILOSOPHY. 
 
 Courage friends! the right will yet prevail, 
 And millions yet unborn, with joy will hail. 
 High on the ramparts, far above the flood 
 Of human wrath and all the hellish brood 
 Of ghouls who rob and on their victims gloat — 
 The banner of the free, with wave and float, 
 All stars undimmed and every stripe unfurled 
 That dares a danger and defies the world. 
 


Lillian. 
 
 I knew her iu her early years, 
 
 Before her budding bloom, 
 I knew her ere her childish cares 
 
 Had given the woman room. 
 
 Her face was like an open book. 
 Her heart was in her hand, 
 
 With grace of heaven in her look, 
 No angel could command. 
 
 She lived as does a fairy queen. 
 Within some sylvan shade. 
 
 To love her was but to be seen. 
 This blushing, little maid. 
 
 Her home was fair and bowered o'er. 
 
 Beside the singing sea, 
 Where shells upon the shining shore. 
 
 Have much of love for me. 
 
 Not that I love the yellow sand. 
 
 Not that I love the shell, 
 But that they oft were in her hand. 
 
 Or where her footsteps fell. 
 
 The ocean tides that sung and played, 
 
 Along the gleaming shore, 
 Revered her tracks wherever made. 
 
 And never washed them o'er. 
 
 143 
 


144 POEMS OF LOVE AND PHILOSOPHY. 
 
 And on the hill and in the vale, 
 
 Wherever she has tread, 
 The charm is such they never fail, 
 
 To grow a flower bed. 
 
 Her step is like the forest fawn, 
 That nimbles through the wood, 
 
 Or like the lambs upon the lawn. 
 In search of flower food. 
 
 When day has settled with the sun, 
 And stars come out to shine, 
 
 And take their places, one by one, 
 With faces all divine. 
 
 Fair Lillian takes her seat above. 
 
 On deck of gabled hall, 
 And sings with all the strength of love, 
 
 With voice of sweetest call. 
 
 While in her eyes there shines a light, 
 From depths of azure blue. 
 
 That dims the stars that twinkle bright. 
 And moon and all the crew 
 
 Of worlds that brim with fairy glow 
 
 To light the darkened world below. 
 


Zhc Old jMan's Lament 
 
 Dear Brother, Comrade, can you see 
 
 Beyond the gloom that now obscures 
 The life of poor men, bound and free, 
 
 And every one who wrong endures, 
 From those who rule and those who sway 
 
 God's people in their blinded trust, 
 Who toil and grieve from day to day, 
 
 And live upon a scanty crust ? 
 
 Mine eyes grow dim with heavy years 
 
 Of ceaseless effort to remove 
 The blighted life and burning tears, 
 
 Of her I vowed to ever love ; 
 Of those intrusted to our care. 
 
 By Him who doeth all things well ; 
 By Him whose constant cross I bear. 
 
 And of his sweetness love to tell. 
 
 Four children given, have we yet. 
 
 Were raised in faith and humble truth 
 
 So deep instilled will not forget, 
 
 The lessons learned in early youth ; 
 
 Will not forget their love of home ; 
 Will not forget — go where they will, 
 The little house beneath the hill ; 
 
 And yearly now to it they come. 
 
 145 
 


146 POEMS OF LOVE AND PHILOSOPHY. 
 
 Sad days are these that come to me, 
 
 That pass like shadows, when the night 
 
 Is on the valley and the sea ; 
 
 And yet the mountain tops are bright 
 
 With glintage of the setting sun 
 
 Of life's fond hopes, and still they run 
 
 Above the amber-tinted trees ; 
 
 Beyond the circle of the seas. 
 


jVIusic* 
 
 Hast thou heard the murmuring music in 
 The sunbeam's whisper from the stellar world ? 
 Or listened on some charming evening to 
 The silver-luted moon, that breathing, sings 
 Among the garden shrubs and mountain pines ? 
 For he who hath a soul that does commune 
 "With God in nature, holds the key that can 
 Unlock a world of beauty to his gaze — 
 And hear the sound of sweetest harmony 
 That falls like incense from the shining spheres, 
 Which move like gems forever round and round 
 Their common centers, lights outhanging, as 
 Fair beacons for fraternal guidance. 
 All the world is but a symphony — 
 If we could only still our souls to hear 
 The harp of nature, sounding all about. 
 But when thou seekest it remember this : 
 That pearls and gems will never fatten swine ; 
 That music's jewel is the tuneful ear, 
 With heart and mind in purest sympathy 
 Eefined to essence of divinity. 
 
 147 
 


IZhc Cdatchmari* 
 
 Hail ! watchman, on the citadel ! 
 
 Hail ! guardsman, at your post ! 
 O, can you see that all is well ? 
 
 Or is the nation lost ? 
 
 Who guards the battlements around 
 The country's honor, fame ? 
 
 Where can the true and tried be found. 
 Who love their nation's name ? 
 
 Brave, on a thousand fields of gore, 
 
 The life blood of the best 
 Ran down and mingled with the shore 
 
 That skirts the soldier's rest. 
 
 Great spirits of the noble dead ; 
 
 Great sire and noble son : 
 Are not the skies with omens red. 
 
 As when your work begun ? 
 
 The flag you carried in the fight — 
 The stripes that sheened the sun — 
 
 The stars that twinkled in the night — 
 Where has their glory gone? 
 
 Go, ask the toiler in the mine. 
 
 The farmer in the field ; 
 The sturdy merchant, in decline, 
 
 If they can see the shield ? 
 
 Go to the mothers, wan and pale, 
 Their children scantly fed ; 
 
 148 
 


THE WATCHMAN. 149 
 
 Go out upon the highway, hail 
 The tramps who beg for bread, — 
 
 Then tell me why this sore distress, 
 
 From causes, what, arise ? 
 Who has the people thus oppressed, 
 
 And why the nation dies. 
 
 The bending heavens from above. 
 
 Proclaim God's care of all — 
 Proclaim equality and love — 
 
 Then why the nation's fall ? 
 
 O, brother, can you not discern 
 
 The writing on the wall ? 
 O, will you not in duty turn 
 
 To heed your country's call? 
 
 Secure you feel upon the wave 
 
 When plenty rules the land ; 
 But helped to dig the nation's grave 
 
 As heedless as you ran! 
 
 The coils about your limbs were thrown, 
 When soothed by Mammon's creed ; 
 
 You served their party as your own, 
 And helped the monster's greed. 
 
 His plan has been for thirty years 
 
 The people to divide — 
 Excite each to each other's fears, 
 
 And into power ride. 
 
 This done so long, there's little left, 
 
 Of rights these traitors heed. 
 There's little left — we are bereft 
 
 Of liberty indeed. 
 


150 POEMS OF LOVE AND PHILOSOPHY. 
 
 The banner of our fathers floats 
 High on the rampart wall ; 
 
 The jeering traitor at it gloats 
 And wish to see it fall. 
 
 There is one hope — there's only one, 
 
 On land or on the sea — 
 One only hope beneath the sun, 
 
 To save sweet liberty ! 
 
 It is a union at the poll 
 
 Of men who dare the right, 
 
 Where brother, father, soul to soul, 
 Will vote in truth or fight ! 
 
 Who dare to break the tyrant's chain, 
 His bond and golden rod, 
 
 Though millions in the fight are slain 
 For country and for God ! 
 


Shakespeare. 
 
 Pillared halls in grandeur may rise, 
 
 A.nd columns fair, ascending to the skies, 
 
 Or pyramids of wide extending base, 
 
 But monuments of some forgotten race 
 
 In ages past, perhaps were built by kings 
 
 For tombs, or grandeur which their presence brings 
 
 To living men, of what the past has been 
 
 In art and science since the world began ? 
 
 The crowning hills, the mountains, awe bespeaks 
 
 Where snows eternal, clothe their lofty peaks 
 
 At best, but dust, these haughty emblems are. 
 
 Their life seems as a day, when we compare 
 
 Their ages to the ages of that wonder one, 
 
 Who lived and died, half-known upon Avon. 
 
 Time's withering hand will crumble these to dust, 
 
 As all things else of earth time surely must 
 
 Bring down their lofty domes to sad decay, 
 
 But mind, of one who has immortal youth — 
 
 Who spake and wrote for all, immortal truth, 
 
 Can never from the Muses pass away. 
 
 Thus move great souls forever in advance 
 
 Of all things else, around their centerstance. 
 
 As moves Aurora round a shining star, — 
 
 So Shakespeare's works and glory will remain 
 
 When hill tops crumble to the level plain, 
 
 And lyric wonders gathering from afar, 
 
 Will sing as those who have no gloomy days. 
 
 Upon the harp and zither in his praise, 
 
 151 
 


152 POEMS OF LOVE AND PHILOSOPHY. 
 
 So long as mind to mind with soul adheres, 
 And moves in silence on the fleeting years ; 
 So long as turns in space the golden sun, 
 Or chattering rills to brimming rivers run. 
 


Shall we live again? 
 
 O Horatio, 
 I have been troubled with a thought 
 So weird aud full of mental doubt, 
 That in its grasp my soul is shriveled up, 
 Aud all my frosting locks are set on eud. 
 
 Like a lone sailor 
 Sounding the depths of an unknown sea, 
 With lead aud line too light and short 
 To reach the solid bottom, 
 I have in vain endeavored 
 To probe the depths of eternity. 
 Hope has hung her shining mantle 
 On the crumbling brink of death, 
 And beckons me to speak the truth. 
 Wrapped in doubt and mystery beyond. 
 At times I seem a wonder to myself, 
 And with anxious heart I feel around 
 For evidence of what I am, 
 Like one groping in the dark. 
 
 The Christian's hope is based upon belief, 
 Confirmed to him by change of heart ; 
 While Swedenborg's disciples tell 
 That, through the visions of the mind. 
 They have beheld the conscious forms 
 Of loved ones counted lost. 
 And with them held communion, 
 Word for word and face to face. 
 
 153 
 


154 POEMS OF LOVE AND PHILOSOPHY. 
 
 But then, defective mortal sight, 
 Looking through imagination's lens, 
 Is so uncertain and so oft deceived. 
 That like a rainbow's shining ends. 
 When reached, but mist alone remains. 
 From gloomy chambers of the skeptic's mind, 
 Like slimy serpents of a hideous mould, 
 Crawls out the dark, cold thought 
 That "death is an eternal sleep," 
 While the scoffer and the babbling fool, 
 In their conceit, declare there is no God ! 
 Can it be, good Horatio, 
 That these men divine the truth? 
 That the soul is but a blank opinion. 
 And that annihilation stands 
 Athwart the gaping door of death ? 
 
 If this be so, 
 Then farewell love and ruined hopes ! 
 Farewell, reward for well-doing ; 
 And let the longing, thirsting heart 
 Feed upon its cup of bitterness. 
 If death is an eternal sleep, 
 Life, in its vexatious pathway 
 Is like the toilsome, foot-sore journey 
 Of a weary, hopeless traveler, 
 Climbing the heights of a frozen mountain, 
 To look beyond on desolation ! 
 
 No, my friend, it cannot be ! 
 The brute does eat to sating, and content ; 
 The birds have no thought but song, 
 And for their chirping nestlings ; 
 While man, with luxury surrounded. 
 With every tempered want supplied. 
 


SHALL WE LIVE AGAIN? 155 
 
 Sighs and pines for sometliing 
 Beyond the reach of mortal life. 
 The contemplative sage in solicitude, 
 And the burley, tatooed bushman 
 Running naked through the world, 
 Draw their highest inspiration 
 From the same fond, joyous source — 
 The innate hope of a hereafter. 
 
 How can it be thus, Horatio, 
 If there was not a purpose, a design, 
 In the make-up of creation ? 
 If God has so ordained it, that the 
 Hopes and longings for a higher life 
 Ai^e part and parcel of our being, 
 And has not made its counterpart — 
 A rest, a respite, beyond ourselves — 
 Then the crowning glory of His work 
 Is but a life-consuming fire. 
 Wherein the divinity within us 
 Is turned to dust and ashes. 
 





H Drama 
 
 IN THREE ACTS 
 
 ENTITLED 
 
 Grover the first 
 
 Written in 1894; revised 
 


Cast. 
 
 Grover Cleveland, White House Parlor. 
 
 Mrs. Cleveland. 
 
 John Sherman. 
 
 C. P. Huntington. 
 
 Attorney General Olney. 
 
 A. R. U. Debs. 
 
 Jerry Simpson. 
 
 Senator Dan Voorhees. 
 
 Senator Hill. 
 
 Secretary of War Lamont. 
 
 Populist Mob, Etc. 
 


6rover the f irst* 
 
 ACT I. 
 
 Enter Clev. 
 
 And this is what the world calls greatness! 
 The circling earth to its uttermost 
 Doth surely herald our supremacy. 
 Men once counted quite my equals in 
 Affairs of state have growni so small in this 
 Commanding presence, that I do appear 
 Like Gulliver surrounded by his pigmies. 
 " A little brief authority," as Shakespeare 
 Hath it, does not apply to me, for men 
 Were then much nearer equals, and the few 
 Who ruled did sport in skins, and eat their game 
 In hand, with twisted legs upon the ground. 
 That age of foolish kings Avho lived as swine 
 Has passed away like slickings from a flume. 
 And left the shining gold behind. 
 With this bright oar we lash and goad the men, 
 Who dig all wealth from out the solid earth, 
 To racks of want, with cords of usury. 
 
 Justice cries against us for laying on 
 This heavy load; but .Justice hath no hold 
 On men who. thong and bind their fellows down. 
 It is an essence of unmeasured weight. 
 That's seldom felt by him who deals it out; 
 And then, in this great Babel of confusing 
 Tongues, where each reformer knifes his brother's 
 Hobby to the heart, and strides some blunderbus 
 
 159 
 


160 POEMS OF LOVE AND PHILOSOPHY. 
 
 That shoots both ways, oft killing more of friends 
 Than foes; coupled with the servile press, 
 That freely feeds upon the spawn and spoor 
 Exuding from the loins of grasping wealth. 
 Until its ghoulish growth obtrudes upon 
 Disgust, and at command doth bay the moon, 
 Or howl oblivion down upon the dolt 
 Who dares obstruct the robber on his raids 
 Against the substance of the many, 
 That favored few may pile up greater wealth, 
 Do give us full control and pow'r supreme 
 O'er men and measures meted out to them. 
 
 Other souls, besides myself, have lived 
 With some pretense and show of greatness — 
 Such as Caesar and Napoleon; 
 But for a man all rounded out with great 
 Proportions, I have never had an equal! 
 And so crowned heads of sleepy Europe 
 And islands of the sea do court my favor, 
 Counsel seek; and should the king of kings. 
 Great Rothschild, so ordain it, I could spit 
 In all their faces with im})Uiiily. 
 
 But why stop I to thus soliloquize 
 While Fortune's flood-tide sweeps me onward? 
 Ere two more years of rule have passed away 
 The bubbling hell-broth I am stirring in 
 The pottage mess of want and woe and hate 
 Will fill the gaping maw of Anarchy 
 And start the froth of revolution. 
 Then the time is come to set a heel 
 Of iron on the heart of discontent. 
 And wipe the earth with all my enemies! 
 Between the two extremes in every move 
 There is a midway halt — l)eyond that point 
 


GROVER THE FIRST. 161 
 
 We've passed, and now tend downward as the car 
 Of state goes grinding 'round the curves of time; 
 And every milestone pass'd too plainly shows 
 Increasing speed! Where shall we put on brakes? 
 A single swing along this doubtful road 
 May bring disaster to my glowing hopes. 
 
 But why grow nervous at the timid thought 
 Of failure when with mind prodigious, 
 Steady hand, and nerves of hammered steel? 
 With all the wealth and cunning of the world 
 To back me in this greedy enterprise, 
 There's little chance of failure in design. 
 The army is my greatest shield in this 
 Emergency. Its drill-beat now is heard 
 In every State, and lengthening lines of foot 
 And horse are on their way to Washington ; 
 So all things do portend the coming man 
 Of crowning rank, and greatest destiny. 
 But when events herein portrayed 
 Shall make Ambition weep for other worlds 
 To conquer, what title shall I then assume? 
 " President " was well enough for those 
 Who have preceded me. Plebeians 
 Were they, and plebeians they ruled, 
 Advancement calls for men of higher mould 
 Than this scrub stock, and higher names as well. 
 Cromwell struck the middle ground of " Lord 
 Protector." Similitude there is between us; 
 But years by hundreds have so changed 
 The statis of the races ruled in Gaul 
 And England then, Ijy petty lords and kings. 
 That I can hardly pattern after them. 
 
 So nothing short of Czar, Sultan or Shah, 
 Or Emperor, will well comport with all 
 


162 POEMS OF LOVE AND PHILOSOPHY. 
 
 My parts outlined upon the role of fame. 
 Which one of these shall I select? But hold! 
 I do believe " Grover the First " would be 
 A better name. Eureka! That will do! 
 So let it be on land and sea proclaimed, 
 By right divine this name transmitted down 
 The line of my prodigious progeny! 
 
 But, then! But, then! Hardly can I hope 
 To live always; and yet I have no son 
 To follow me. Two girls I have, 'tis true. 
 But she kings shallow up to nonsense, when 
 All dressed for show, in frills and furbelows. 
 In this affair the state demands full heads, 
 Foundation thoughts, and sound discretion. 
 What shall I do? And whither go for help 
 In this supreme emergency? 
 
 By zounds! there is one scheme, and only one,< 
 To cheat the fates of their ordaining. 
 Napoleon's course with that Beauharnais gal 
 Does open up the way, and would allow to me 
 Another wife, perhaps of royal blood. 
 To bear male issue as successor to 
 Myself and ruler over all this people. 
 But, then, there is a side to this bold move 
 That does unnerve me at the outset. 
 If I could cram the sneering world into 
 One neck, of hate, upon a chopping block, 
 And stop its wagging tongue at one fell stroke. 
 Green-eyed envy would no longer belch 
 Its gall upon me, like an ugly adder 
 Spitting out its venom from the grass 
 On every unsuspecting passer-by. ^ 
 
 And as a vent for all my pent-up rage. 
 In sorrow, more than anger, I will say. 
 


GROVER THE FIRST. 163 
 
 If God from out this swinging world of dirt 
 Did make His true and living image here, 
 And place within a soul immortal, 
 Designed to keep man's carcass saint-like 
 In all this selfish sea of troulded life, 
 His work has been a dismal failure, sure. 
 And that bright place of rest prepar'd by Him 
 For those who live uprightly here below 
 Will surely be supremely lonesome. 
 And so, in all this clang of rasping tongues, 
 I can no further go than to adopt 
 A son and heir, perhaps of noble blood. 
 And on this line, I'll speak to Frances mine. 
 
 Exit Clev. 
 
 Sliding doors receding. Mrs. Cleveland and Children. 
 
 Enter Clev. 
 
 Clev. The baby sleeps, I see, my loving wife — 
 
 Its mother's pet and surely greatest joy. 
 
 I only wish it was a strapping boy, 
 
 To take my place and don my royal robes 
 
 ^Mlen I am weary of or through with them. 
 
 Fran, What meanest thou, my lord and master? 
 
 Clev. I mean some day that I most likely shall 
 Be titled king or emperor over all 
 This great and growing people, swaying them 
 As Csesar did the ancient Romans. 
 
 Fran. Indeed! 
 
 Clev. Yes; and then you know great Caesar died 
 Without the shadow of an issue, 
 And only for a sickly nephew chance 
 


164 POEMS OF LOVE AND PHILOSOPHY. 
 
 Did bring him forward at the proper time 
 
 The race of kings had ended with his death. 
 
 I cannot take m_y chances thus, you see; 
 
 In truth, must have male issue born to me, 
 
 And if this cannot be, must then adopt 
 
 A son — some one, perhaps, of noble blood — 
 
 To rule this people with an iron rod 
 
 When I am through with life and swaying them. 
 
 Fean. You a king! And I step-mother to 
 
 Some other woman's love and favored son! 
 
 In heaven's holy name, what foul conceit 
 
 Possesses that surprising head of yours? 
 
 No! no! my Grover, not so fast; your mind's 
 
 Upset by its supreme importance, so 
 
 I'll get a rag and bathe your fever'd brow 
 
 With water from the fiery Congress well, 
 
 To which, for quenching thirst, proud Carlisle leads 
 
 On all great days of state occasion. 
 
 Clev. Why jeer and taunt me thus, and set at naught 
 My will? Remember your degree of caste! 
 You were half-orphaned and unknown, in fact, 
 When I did stoop to call you wife, and deck 
 You with a title high above the thought 
 And hope of all your plebeian kin. 
 
 Fran. If unknown when you did seek my hand, 
 
 I had a name as pure as drifting snow. 
 
 Hadst thou as much, my noble master? 
 
 A woman's love, unsullied by a stain 
 
 Or blemish, weighs in worth, when balanced by 
 
 A candid mind, much more than doughty 
 
 Titles won by men who slight all virtue, 
 
 Not appeasing lust or selfish ends. 
 


GROVER THE FIRST. 165 
 
 Clev. What! Thvis speak to one of 1113' account? 
 At whose behest the common herd doth sway 
 And bend, like willow boughs before a strong 
 North wind! Ye Gods, protect us from the din 
 Crowned tirade of a woman scorned! 
 
 Fran. Why, man, what folly does possess you? 
 
 Surely you are rattled with your brief 
 
 Authority! and like a beggar, horseback'd. 
 
 By some sudden freak of fickle fortune 
 
 Seized; with whip and spur, through blooming fields. 
 
 And pleasant vales, where singing streams enchant. 
 
 And great armed trees stretch out their silvan shade, 
 
 With here and there a shimmering sun-bar 
 
 Passing through the breaks, and falling on 
 
 The emerald earth beneath, like jewel'd wealth. 
 
 Of all the world combin'd, — he breathless goes; 
 
 With blinded sight and sense unconscious of 
 
 A single thought, but that he rides! 
 
 So lay aside the gads and trappings of 
 
 Disordered will; smooth down to decent 
 
 Manhood all these rough-hewn thoughts of yours, 
 
 And be consistent, and yourself again. 
 
 If gaunt ambition had no hold on man — 
 
 Beyond conceptions of fair duty to 
 
 His fellow man — and all his limping ways 
 
 Were justified by conscience of his own. 
 
 Lax and laggard though it surely is, — 
 
 How chang'd would be the world in which we live! 
 
 Conceit would simmer down to hated dross; 
 
 Selfish lives grow dim with years of shame; 
 
 Great wealth devoted to the common good ; 
 
 Honor stand as shining guideposts 'long 
 
 The path of virtue; chivalrous monsters 
 


166 POEMS OF LOVE AND PHILOSOPHY. 
 
 Cease protecting woman from insults 
 
 On every hand — not by themselves imposed — 
 
 While peace and plenty everywhere prevailed. 
 
 Clev. Hold your rattling tongue, or surely will 
 I smash the hand of fate, that binds me as 
 A menial thus to take this tirade! 
 
 Enter Sherman. 
 
 Sher. I beg indulgence for intruding thus. 
 
 [Aside — A family row, as I do live!] 
 
 With your good pleasure, Mr. President, 
 
 I simply call'd to see you on that new 
 
 Bond issue, spoken of the other day. 
 
 You know Carlisle is on the ragged edge 
 
 About the cloughhead bill of wild-eyed Bland, 
 
 Proposing coinage of the seigniorage 
 
 Of that white metal which has kept me on 
 
 The rack of censure since the dollar of 
 
 Our daddies died in seventy-three. 
 
 And so he's blowing hot and blowing cold, 
 
 Between a silver curse and gold adore. 
 
 With Shylock threatening for a scare; 
 
 And Jerry Simpson everywhere 
 
 Is railing for the people's cause. 
 
 For silver free and fiat laws. 
 
 To make cheap money for the millions. 
 
 And then your secretary, gushing, throws 
 His ballast overboard, and goes and sits 
 In Gotham at the bankers' elite feast. 
 And wined and dined so lavishly 
 That ere the groaning table's cleared 
 He was quite full up to the beard. 
 And then came learned financeer, thick and fast. 
 


GROVER THE FIRST. 167 
 
 From out his gaping jaws, of voiding laws 
 And obsolete, for bases of new bonds. 
 And then he said in ringing rhapsodies, 
 This Government is very great and can 
 Do many things, " but cannot make its money." 
 And now this loosened speech is working on 
 The public mind like brewers' yeast in tubs 
 And vats before the beer is made. 
 
 Clev. Blast your bloody bones, John Sherman, for 
 This robber raid upon our privacy! 
 You're none too good to jeer about it on 
 The gaping streets and walks of Washington. 
 
 Sher. In the name of Neptune, Grover, what doth 
 Ail you? Surely something has upset 
 Your stern and ragged-edge diplomacy. 
 And left the wits within your lath'ring head 
 To swim around with gloomy chaos! 
 
 Clev. Well, since you have presum'd intrusion on 
 My inner life, and kicked discretion to 
 The winds, I'll break the matter to you, thus : 
 You see, my wife is mad, and from Pandora's 
 Viper box hath pour'd her wrath upon me. 
 
 Sher. What outrage upon a noble woman 
 Could induce her silver tongue to lash 
 You with the scorn that's always uppermost 
 In every female heart, when deeply wrong'd? 
 
 Clev. Well, j^ou see, I have a scheme, born of 
 Ambition — reckless, you may call it, though. 
 But in conception, brighter than the moon. 
 
 Sher. Well? 
 


168 POEMS OF LOVE AND PHILOSOPHY. 
 
 Clev. Well, you know, the ranting curs that yelp 
 Along our track like howling woives upon 
 The pathway of a frightened flock of sheep — 
 
 8her. Well? 
 
 Clev. Well, in truth, I have contrived a plan 
 To down our enemies and all at once, 
 By punching these ferments to boiling heat 
 In blazing cauldrons of the common mind, 
 Until extremes shall meet in dire collision. 
 And then we'll bring to bear the heavy arm 
 Of force full drilled and so disciplined to 
 Our liking, down upon this herd of ingrates, 
 Who jeer at our endeavors for their good. 
 We'll do this under pretext for the care 
 Of state, with law and order for our shield. 
 All things will then stand still and tiptoed. 
 Waiting for the man of destiny; 
 And so, you see, there'll be no other one 
 But me to take the role of dictator, 
 A la Napoleon or a Cromwell. 
 
 Sher. Wonderful conception, I must admit. 
 Friend Cleveland. Nevertheless, there forces 
 On me an impression that the nearer 
 You reach the end in view, the nearer 
 Will you reach the hangman's halter. 
 
 Clev. Hold fast your]adder tongue, John Sherman, hold! 
 
 I can but feel the sharp rebuke that viper 
 
 Circles all your words, like stinging nettles 
 
 Bound about a rasping sore. You do 
 
 Forget that I but follow counsel of 
 
 Your own in this great game of nervy chance. 
 
 However much I do abhor thy presence. 
 


GROVER THE FIRST. 169 
 
 Be assured that I will keep my pledge 
 To give you second place in this affair. 
 , What riled the woman when you entered was 
 My kind proposal to adopt a son, 
 Perhaps of royal blood, successor of 
 Myself to rule this turbid people. 
 
 Sher. (aside) (Pray, good Devil, take me ere this howling 
 
 Fraud brings rack and ruin on us all!) 
 
 If ever I did hint a thing like that, 
 
 And promise league with you in this intrigue, 
 
 I now and here renounce my claim upon 
 
 Your favor. Sackcloth wrap about my loins, 
 
 And hot gall pour upon my foolish tongue, 
 
 For ever utt'ring such absurdity — 
 
 And ask contrite forgiveness of the Lord 
 
 For stooping thus to counsel with you — 
 
 But of advice, should I presume to give 
 
 It further, will just say, the world would be 
 
 The better off, and womanhood in purer 
 
 Moods promoted, should you in haste withdraw 
 
 From her whose heart, for years has been upon 
 
 The sacrificial altar, like a dove 
 
 Sharp pinioned over scorching embers. 
 
 Then, if ambitious of a greater name 
 
 And progeny of sire so big and grand, 
 
 Male born and greatly like your strutting self, 
 
 Lilioukalani surely would you better suit. 
 
 " Paramount " Blount did open up the way 
 
 And Willis hath the last obstructions mov'd 
 
 To your royal wedding with that dusky, 
 
 Dumpy, doubtful sea-girt maiden. 
 
 Clev. Say, John Sherman, I will have no more 
 Of your corroding, clownish impudence. 
 


170 POEMS OF LOVE AND PHILOSOPHY. 
 
 Pray, who are you, from whom I gasping take 
 These saber cutting wounds, and whiplash stings 
 That drive me back upon my inner self, 
 For some defense that shall disarm you of 
 The spits and gads on which you roast me. 
 Of all the men divinely built of dirt, 
 And spawned upon the human race, you have 
 No equal, in the line, of aping honest work 
 In all affairs of state, where you can lend 
 The Devil service, underhand and 
 Secure, at Shylock rates of usury. 
 
 You've been a rasping clog in every wheel 
 Of progress started for the public good. 
 With all the cunning of a wily fox 
 Untreed for trespass on a chicken roost, 
 You struck the dollar from the coinage act 
 While in your hands, and then declared 
 Upon your honor as a man, no change 
 Material, had been made therein. 
 And years had pass'd before your cunning work 
 Was noised about and fully understood. 
 How much your share of all that English gold 
 Brought hence by Ernest Syed to help this deed 
 Of infamy, I cannot surely say. 
 By intrigue, worse than downright robber}^ 
 Your Wall street bank is made a shining dump 
 For many millions of the people's gold, 
 On which for thirty years they've paid per cent 
 Bought up with bonds now interest bearing ; 
 And so for all this time you've bled the Nation 
 Of its wealth, struck down the hand of toil. 
 That you might richer grow on bond per cent, 
 Per cent of notes thereon unfairly issued. 
 
 And while you get per cent on all those bonds 
 


GROVER THE FIRST. 171 
 
 And all these notes, you hold the shining gold, 
 
 So purchased by these bonds, and loan it out 
 
 For your own 'profit, thus receiving 
 
 Triple rates of usury from the people 
 
 On one surprising single coin investment, not 
 
 Invested in the notes and bonds you hold;- 
 
 Trading on your vote, affecting trusts 
 
 Has been, no doubt, a common thing with you. 
 
 And when Old Shylock wish'd a pliant tool 
 
 To make a law, or change some clause therein. 
 
 That would insure some other robl:)ery 
 
 Under forms of legal villainy, 
 
 John Sherman was the man thought safest to 
 
 Employ, and thus your millions have been piled 
 
 Regardless of your sacred trust. 
 
 Sher. Hold just there, your Excellency! 
 
 'Tis bad for glass-house dwellers to be 
 
 Throwing stones; you speak of money made 
 
 By me precariously. May I 
 
 Enquire how many sheckels found 
 
 Their way into your own capacious maw? 
 
 Then you speak of my rough raid on silver! 
 
 Before you struck the White House stool nine years 
 
 Ago, your letters railed against an Act 
 
 By Bland, for monthly silver coinage of 
 
 Two millions, and when the chair of state 
 
 Was widened out to fit a carcass — 
 
 Ample in its hips and breadth of beam — 
 
 You wrote in Message every year against 
 
 Said Silver Act, and when your platitudes 
 
 Were smash'd to atoms l)y your good friend Beck, 
 
 Returned you to the sick'ning tilt again, 
 
 As does a sow to wallow in a hole. 
 


172 POEMS OF LOVE AND PHILOSOPHY. 
 
 How much for that you did receive I can 
 Not say, nor for the bills you father'd, 
 But this we know, that Avhen your blind horse 
 Riding ended, forc'd by Tippecanoe 
 Born blood, you strode into your Gotham den. 
 Hypothecated and retained 
 By near a hundred gold-bug firms and trusts 
 And hook-nosed English syndicates. 
 Taking all these things together, there's 
 Small wonder that you were returned four years 
 Later, through uncommon use of gold — 
 And gab and mugwump paper plaudits; 
 Scarce seated were you when the hell-broth of 
 Disaster bubbled up on every hand 
 From full a thousand hidden springs of greed. 
 
 With your concurrence Wall street started out 
 Her sleuth-hounds on the track of every one 
 Who dar'd to cross their scenting trailways, 
 Demanding payments for their credits when 
 No money could be found. In every city. 
 Large and small, they urged their cohorts for 
 More cash, who in their turn did pounce upon 
 The merchant, tradesman and the farmer. 
 And every one did run amuck in search 
 Of yellow eagles, cali'd to go to Gotham. 
 Trade stood still, appall'd. Ten thousand looms 
 Refus'd to move; the arts did lean upon 
 Decay, and ruin rested on the threshold 
 Of a million homes. Strong men were bound, 
 By cunning greed, to racks of penury; 
 Children crying, famished on the streets; 
 And noble women, nurtured in the lap 
 Of virtue, fed upon their own depravity. 
 The deed was done; and, chuckling in the face 
 


GROVER THE FIRST. 173 
 
 Of want, you called j'our extra session, but 
 Design'd to strangle silver and its aids, 
 As does a midnight robber strangle 
 Peaceful sleepers in his ghoulish work. 
 
 If I have freely fed on fat things from 
 The public funds and moulded millions out 
 Of naught but cheek by jowl and cunning greed; 
 The part you've played in like proceedings 
 In your own behalf doth dim my record 
 In support of wrong — as does a pestilence 
 The memory of a stomach cramps induced 
 By eating corn, or green persimmons. 
 That I have done much wrong I do admit, 
 With much of sorrow and contrition bowed. 
 Unconscious of the trend, I've helped 
 To lay the viper eggs that hatch great trusts 
 And villain syndicates, which freely feed 
 Upon the Nation's tender vitals, 
 Like vampire bats, wing soothing as they draw 
 The life blood from their weary victims. 
 
 Received retainers have I from the State's 
 Despoiler's; fill'd weak banks and greedy ones 
 With gold, bond purchased for the purpose, 
 Under plea of needed coin reserves. 
 Promoted love of wealth insatiable. 
 In all ways helping me to get a part 
 Of it, and have not scrupled use in aid 
 Of Courts defending many robberies. 
 But all these ills compounded into one 
 Are but as little flaws in my long drawn 
 And checkered life, compar'd to those 
 Promoted by your single self! 
 
 Exit Sher. and Clev. 
 


174 POEMS OF LOVE AND PHILOSOPHY. 
 
 ACT II. 
 
 Enter Huntington. 
 
 Hunt. It is distressing for a nican of my 
 
 Account to be compelled thus nose around 
 
 And court the favor of a jackal pack 
 
 That's ghoulish in its greed for further raids 
 
 Upon the substance of the common herd; 
 
 But, then, I must secure some valid help, 
 
 For this obnoxious strike does worry us 
 
 And stills all conscience, while my wits do work. 
 
 The only hope I have, it does appear 
 
 To me, is through old Olney — witty cur — 
 
 To Cleveland's fierce but duller judgment. 
 
 This attorney sure will serve us well, 
 
 As we from nothing made him what he is 
 
 And can undo him with a single breath. 
 
 Enter Olney. 
 
 Hunt. Glad to see you, Olney. Any news ? 
 Where does Cleveland stand in this great strike? 
 What is his mood to-day? And what says he 
 About the brewing storm? And what about 
 The use of Federal troops to put it down? 
 Will he espouse our cause with that blind force 
 Of human will that totters empires in 
 A day? Has he the nerve to stand the storm 
 Of wrath exuding from the common herd. 
 And all the fiery ordeal he must pass 
 In calling on the troops to stand between 
 The strikers and the moving Pullmans? 
 
 Ol. Be assured, good friend, that all is well. 
 Your utmost wish has been anticipated. 
 


GROVER THE FIRST. 175 
 
 You should have learn'd my cunning ere this time; 
 
 In fact, the fat retainers given nie 
 
 By you and your prolific people, 
 
 With promise of far richer spoils to come, 
 
 Concludes me in the faith of this assurance. 
 
 You know the President is but a child 
 
 In state affairs. He's like a buzzing wheel 
 
 Of solder spinning round unsteady base. 
 
 While segments of the rim are flying off 
 
 At tangents, as events do press him onward — 
 
 No boat more insecure without a rudder, 
 
 Wind-scudding through a lashing sea of foam. 
 
 Than is the ship of state, with Cleveland at 
 
 The helm, unaided by my ready hand. 
 
 With Bissell's mail conveying order for 
 
 A mudsill, I have built a structure that 
 
 Will stand the storm of this upheaval. 
 
 So move your trains just as you wish them; go 
 " In usual and the ordinary way," 
 With Pullman cars attachej:!, and we will see 
 No harm befalls you through unlawful raids 
 Of these rough strikers who are food for dogs. 
 Gird up your loins with much of faith and hope, 
 Good friend, and leave the rest to me; I'll have 
 The troops on hand whenever needed for defense. 
 And on pretense of moving all the mails 
 We will protect your hated Pullmans. 
 And be assured of this, for if the worst 
 Should come, the bayonet shall be our first 
 Defense, then Spensers will play havoc with 
 The crowd. If these will not let blood enough 
 To satisfy, we'll let the Gatlings and 
 The cannon loose for better execution, 
 And when the brush is over vou can sue 
 


176 POEMS OF LOVE AND PHILOSOPHY. 
 
 The towns and cities for all damage done, 
 And get for carrying supplies and troops 
 Some millions more of Uncle Sam's hard cash, 
 And so when final settlements are made 
 The railroads will be ahead and have 
 Their battle fought and won against the clans 
 Of workingmen, to their distressed undoing. 
 
 Hunt. Good friend Olney, keep your word and be 
 Assured of a reward magnificent. 
 We must put down these ranting union curs; 
 We cannot suffer them to gain a point. 
 Should they succeed in this supreme effront, 
 These domineering dolts would damn the land, 
 Dictate what kind of men we should employ. 
 The Avages we should pay, what cars we run, 
 Tie up the moving commerce of the state, 
 And chaos come to every enterprise. 
 
 With this great contest won, no more we'll see 
 This hydra-headed monster starting up 
 At every turn we put upon tlie screws. 
 Designed to bind these ugly, selfish men 
 Within the lines subjective to our will. 
 And then, again, dear Olney, if you can 
 But help me pass my little funding bill, 
 The wealth of Ormus or of Ind is yours. 
 Our grip will be renewed in all the land. 
 The Western Coast will be content to " do 
 Our will *' — to take what taxes we may mind 
 To pay, grumble not at transit rates, and leave 
 To us the courts and Legislature. 
 
 Ol. Very well. I will obey commands of yours. 
 Considered now almost omnipotent; 
 And as retained by your munificence 
 


GROVER THE FIRST. 
 
 Every branch of this great Government 
 Shall hinge its action on your pleasure. 
 
 Exit. 
 Scene II. 
 
 Enter Debs. 
 
 Debs. We are undone; the strike is surely lost. 
 
 God help us and our country's waning cause! 
 
 Labor, writhing, bleeds beneath the iron heel 
 
 Of corporate and concentrated wealth. 
 
 Hope hath her pinions clipped by usury ; 
 
 Distress has settled down upon the threshold 
 
 Of a million homes, and other millions 
 
 Tramp the streets and dusty highways. 
 
 Countless willing hands are idle now, 
 
 Great want we have where plenty should prevail. 
 
 While dumb the nation stands and paralyzed, 
 
 And hovers on the brink of revolution. 
 
 One hope alone is left in all this chaos 
 
 Of despair. One thought should move each mind 
 
 And nerve the heart for final contest — 
 
 The ballot yet is left us. Through it 
 
 We see the beacon light of better days. 
 
 A revolution peaceful and serene 
 
 By it may be effected. Who will grasp 
 
 The opportunity before it passes? 
 
 Let the little bickerings of the Nation's 
 
 Workers cease; burn from your bitter souls 
 
 The dross of selfishness; let unity 
 
 Of action be our ringing watch-word call. 
 
 And then with faith in God and man, and use 
 
 Of Ballots, we shall surely win this fall, 
 
 177 
 


178 POEMS OF LOVE AND PHILOSOPHY. 
 
 And save the Nation from the ruin 
 Now everywhere impending. 
 
 Scene III. 
 
 Enter Clev. Enter Newsboy. 
 
 Morning Herald! Latest 'count of 'lection. 
 
 Clev. reads. " New York, November seventh, ninety- 
 four. 
 One hundred Populist Congressmen 
 Elected from the South and Western States; 
 Seven Governors and Legislatures, 
 Same stripe, insuring as many Senators 
 For People's Party in the coming Congress," 
 0, great Caesar! Where is thy brazen shield? 
 And almighty hand that smote the Romans, 
 Give me nerve for such portend occasions! 
 This rough raid against my policy 
 Must backward move, or ninety-six will see 
 These robbers running this great Government! 
 So, by the great eternal, I will smash 
 It with an iron hand, or — best perchance, 
 It is to use John Sherman policy. 
 " To be, or not to be," is now the burning 
 Question. Perhaps this hungry, scurvy crew 
 Of nondescripts can be seduced 
 By favors from my purse or patronage — 
 At all events I'll try it on. 
 
 [ Writes.] 
 
 Here, Ned! Be quick, and take this note to that 
 Old ranting rancher, Jerry Simpson. — 
 This does surely let me down an inch or two 
 


GROVER THE FIRST. 179 
 
 In my conceit, to eat black crow at my 
 Own table, hot swallowed and repulsive! 
 
 Enter Simpson. (Aside.) 
 
 I wonder why I am thus call'd to this 
 Detested presence? Perhaps the late elections 
 Paved the way to Grover's stony heart? 
 
 Clev. Glad to see you, Mr. Simpson; take 
 A seat— but why in thunder came you here 
 All sere and sockless as a strutting stork? 
 Had you but mentioned your disparity 
 I would have sent you some of my best silks. 
 
 Simp. No offense intended, your excellency. 
 
 But as to living in your musty hose, 
 
 I'll simply say I'm better housed at home, 
 
 Unless, perchance, I go fishing down 
 
 To Buzzard's bay and need an ample tent. 
 
 Clev. Pray let that pass with wine and nuts 
 For two, and down to urgent business. 
 
 Simp. " Let them pass with wine and nuts for two," 
 Old socks, with wine, perhaps, 'twere good for you. 
 But my poor stomach will not take such draughts. 
 What's this great business boom and so portend? 
 
 Clev. Well, laying jokes aside, I wish to know 
 If you would like an English mission — 
 One to Germany ; or if the Russian 
 Eagles suit you better, just say the word. 
 They're all submissive to your pleasure. 
 
 Simp (Aside.) Well, did you ever. No, I never! 
 
 Clev. What, friend Simpson, think you of my offer? 
 


180 POEMS OF LOVE AND PHILOSOPHY. 
 
 There's not a man in this broad, sunny land 
 Who would not tumble to it all at once. 
 
 Simp. Did your father die with rabies? 
 And was your mother witch-burned? 
 
 Clev. How dare you talk so lightly of my kin? 
 If 'twas not for this damn'd diplomacy — 
 Observed in all affairs of state — I'd kick 
 You tumbling from my injured presence. 
 
 Simp. No reflection was intended — only this: 
 
 I could not well account the parents of 
 
 A son like you to be right-minded, 
 
 Or having souls of good intent, so large 
 
 As spider woof, or chigger feet. 
 
 Clev. Then are you so insane as thus to jeer 
 At my prodigious offer? 0, ye Gods! 
 What fools thou makest of some people! 
 
 Simp. Say, Cleveland! What the devil are j^ou 
 Driving at? You seem to take me for 
 A cur, that thinks of naught but falling crumbs 
 And venison haunches half consumed! 
 You call me friend, when all the friendship now 
 Between us could be heated by a polar 
 Glacier. This you know; and yet you have 
 The cheek to offer me a shining place 
 In that magnanimous way the devil 
 Offered Christ possession of the world! 
 I see your brazen purpose; 'tis a bribe 
 To break this hold upon my people 
 And stay their growing hopes of some relief 
 From God and honest human effort. 
 You wish for me to go and kennel with 
 


GROVER THE FIRST. 181 
 
 The hounds of old perfidious Albion, 
 
 Wear knee pants, full frills and powder'd hair; 
 
 Bend obeisance to sham shuttlecocks. 
 
 And lick the hand of rotten royalty. 
 
 No, never, while my name is Simpson! 
 
 I'd rather live upon my mortgaged farm; 
 
 Plod the turning furrows for my bread; 
 
 Pay usury to help the greed of man. 
 
 Than wear the velvets of an aping snob. 
 
 My people sent me here to aid their cause, 
 
 To check the hellish current of your laws. 
 
 And back destruction's roll upon destroyers. 
 
 My country's cause is mine, my conscience is 
 
 My guide, and may the harpies hang me 
 
 When I shirk or budge an inch from duty. 
 
 With eyes half open you should plainly see 
 
 The coming doom of those who plot and thwart 
 
 The public will. Honored hast thou been 
 
 Above all hope of common men, and yet 
 
 An ingrate art thou — coldly plotting for 
 
 The favored few, while want and ruin's 
 
 Running riot in the gaping land. 
 
 God rules, and, like His raging storms, full bred 
 
 In foul and stagnant air cy cloning all 
 
 The filthy plague spots from the reeking earth — 
 
 So thou, great wonder of compound conceit, 
 
 Shalt surely feel, full-forc'd, the drifting scourge 
 
 Of public scorn, and chaos come to all 
 
 Your schemes and shameless villainies. 
 
 Exit Simp. 
 
 Clev. Zounds! If this does not amaze me much! 
 A sere and sockless hay-seed, cradled in 
 The western blizzards, toiling daily for 
 


182 POEMS OF LOVE AND PHILOSOPHY. 
 
 His stinted bread, in iields of corn all split 
 And splintered up by driving storms of hail; 
 With zero for a bedroom, brac'd about 
 With dung heaps running to the ridge pole. 
 Refusing with disdain an English mission 
 From my generous hand! Perhaps I do 
 Mistake these sturdy people? Can it be 
 That virtue hath a hold on men thus bred 
 And born in want and mortgaged homes. 
 Above the price of gold or stately hold? 
 If this be so, and all the toiling 
 Millions of the land should reach the meat 
 And inwardness of these fine schemes of ours — 
 Well seasoned for the men who feast and rule — 
 Pandemonium would break out in spots 
 As big as sovereign states, and woe betide 
 The small and greater rascals of us all! 
 But then why cow at such disorder'd thought. 
 Some there may be of this Simpson kind 
 Who value honor more than shining place. 
 But sure the gall and grit of all the world 
 Would make but few such hide bound fellows. 
 Exit Clev. 
 
 Scene IV. 
 
 Enter Vooehees. 
 
 VooR. This surely does beat Wabash butternuts! 
 To think that I have crawled so far in slime 
 And filth to sate the lustful power of one 
 whom I detest in every move he makes! 
 But, like Golgotha — lore of ancient Jew — 
 There is a strange oppressive spell that holds 
 The will of everyone who passes by 
 


GROVER THE FIRST. 183 
 
 The bust and hoo doo head of Cleveland. 
 But then, I've gone so far in eating dirt 
 My master calls upon me thus to swallow, 
 That sliould I stop to vomit now, the world 
 With all its gaping jaws, would know the part 
 I've played in this unpleasant business. 
 And so I'll keep my counsel to myself 
 And gang me further homeward. 
 
 Enter Hill. {Runs up against Voorhees.) 
 
 Hill. Hello, stranger! Who are you, thus prowling 
 In this gloomy wood so late at night? 
 
 VooR. And you, who keeps me butting company? 
 
 Hill. Just lost m}- way in passing through this place. 
 And may the devil take us both if there's 
 Design or any mischief in our blood! 
 
 VooR. No mischief prone in me of any kind; 
 No more than in a lonely suckling dove 
 That's hunting for its truant mother. 
 
 Hill. Then on this theme we are agreed, 
 But who are you in name or deed? 
 
 VooR. Long Dan, a senator from the Wal)ash. 
 Now, may I know your name and place? 
 
 Hill. You should remember Hill from Gotham old. 
 
 VooR. And so we- meet as if by chance, and since 
 We do thus meet, pray let us have a talk 
 About our pique and little differences, 
 And try regain the friendship once we knew. 
 And to begin, I'll ask quite pleasantly. 
 


184 POEMS OF LOVE AND PHILOSOPHY. 
 
 Why do you drub me with your stinging tongue 
 
 Whenever you can make a run upon 
 
 The President; in faitli, I do but grin 
 
 And chuckle every time you slaughter him. 
 
 To save the party I have stuck to this 
 
 Old fraud through thick and thin and taken 
 
 All the prods and gads and jeers of hate 
 
 From every cutting tongue, and thus impal'd 
 
 I've walked the Senate Hoor, and in the streets, 
 
 Like a lion wounded in defense of that 
 
 He hates, and scowls at all observers. 
 
 In favoring schemes and selfish ends of his, 
 
 I've ruined all my future hope of place. 
 
 So on the Wabash all my power's gone; 
 
 Friends once counted dear do turn upon me 
 
 With a glare which says as plain as words, 
 
 " What next do you design in villainy? " 
 
 I gave my aid in striking silver down 
 
 To sate the greed of this great monster. 
 
 Detested always have I stocks and bonds, 
 
 And yet in haste did I excuse Carlisle 
 
 For issuing them. Cleveland wished my aid 
 
 And so I gave it like a slave regarding 
 
 Nothing but his master's stubborn will. 
 
 I have upheld the Wilson bill, as one 
 
 Large fraught with Democratic principle, 
 
 When, in fact, it is a patchwork of 
 
 Concessions, dovetailed in together with 
 
 As many cuts and colors as the rainbow. 
 
 And now as void of justice as the devi'l 
 
 Holding court to judge a wayward soul. 
 
 Hill. Well, Dan, in truth, with all my heart I do 
 Forgive you, as I wish to be forgiven. 
 


GROVER THE FIRST. 185 
 
 Circumstances held you down before 
 
 That hope destroyer, till faith no longer lives 
 
 For him who has betrayed a sacred trust. 
 
 You know I've hated G rover Cleveland as 
 
 The devil does a holy sacrament. 
 
 I will admit the chief degree of gall 
 
 Was pour'd into my cup two years ago, 
 
 When he did rob me of my rightful 
 
 Nomination, now my hope is gone. 
 
 Because he's left no rallying point 
 
 In all the chaos of Democracy. 
 
 And so I have declared in every case — 
 
 Save, of course, that hypocritical 
 
 Episode so recently on the boards. 
 
 Bill'd there to fully boost me back into 
 
 The party's lead and thinning ranks again — 
 
 The canvass now is on for ninety-four, 
 
 And we are out the field of politics. 
 
 The race goes hot between the rotten G. 0. P's 
 
 And sanguine Populists who ranting run; 
 
 But since old Tammany can never get 
 
 The lion's share of spoils the present year, 
 
 We'll have to skulk in camp, while watching wait, 
 
 And live on Gotham blood and little windfalls. 
 
 VooR. Well, since old Wabash seems with Weaver's 
 
 crowd, 
 I'l leave my party in its shroud 
 And go that way as well. 
 
 Exit Hill and Voor. 
 


186 POEMS OF LOVE AND PHILOSOPHY. 
 
 ACT III. 
 
 Enter Lamont and Clev. 
 
 Clev. Glad to see you, Dan. How prospers now 
 Your drills and mobilizing of the raw 
 Recruits. A crisis seems to be at hand, 
 And we must be prepared to choke it down. 
 
 Lam. The army's safe as frozen cider, 
 But this election news is very bad. 
 
 Clev. How so? 
 
 Lam. Have you not heard reports now coming in, 
 Relating how some dozen States have gone 
 To Weaver's ilk, insuring to his clan 
 Election and the loss of place to all 
 Who hold them now, including some control 
 Of Senate and the House, and two years hence 
 Will see yoii boosted from your chair unless 
 The army aids us all in holding it. 
 
 Clev. 0, great gospel of the holy prophets! 
 Do you tell me truly? And if so. 
 What provision shall we make to thwart 
 The purpose of these ranting lunatics? 
 
 Lam. 'Tis true as heaven's everlasting law 
 That no effect can come without a cause. 
 As to the course we should pursue in this 
 Emergency I will say, with anxious care — 
 Companion and stepmother of discretion — 
 We can with ease control the rising tide. 
 But first: confusion worse confounded must 
 Be wrought by punching up to boiling heat 
 The foul fag ends of hate and party feud. 
 


GROVER THE FIRST. 187 
 
 And egging on the servile press to breed 
 
 A doubt within the public mind as to 
 
 The count in every State, where pretext can 
 
 Discover ample way. We have, you know, 
 
 Some blanket dailies yet remain with us. 
 
 Which strike the licks that ring around the world; 
 
 And then the weekly town, and Rural Press 
 
 Is mostly in our hands, all purchased with 
 
 Cheap ads of stocks, and nostrums, notes 
 
 On banking, finance news and charity 
 
 Gifts by plutocratic cormorants — 
 
 All prepared to order by our agents. 
 
 With these great aids combin'd in our behalf, 
 
 Wisely used in casting doubt upon 
 
 The votes returned from sources other than 
 
 Our own, clash will come the public mind 
 
 And cleave asunder honest men, who wish 
 
 Always to guard the right, but, when deceiv'd 
 
 And wrought to heat by fakes and cunning lies. 
 
 Do battle for the wrong with nerves of steel. 
 
 And then will chaos come, and if we do 
 
 Not lose our mother wit we'll win the fight. 
 
 The hand-to-hand contest that we shall have 
 
 To meet will be a struggling, howling mob. 
 
 Half crazed by rum and gnawing hunger. Then 
 
 With brazen cannon set in every street. 
 
 With stomachs loaded full of shot and shell. 
 
 We'll leave no place but death or gaping hell 
 
 For those who dare to stand before them. 
 
 The army proper, fifty thousand strong, 
 
 Well drilled, is ready now for action. 
 
 The country's quotas now are coming in. 
 
 Full fifty thousand more, disciplined 
 
 On the road, which I shall hold reserve 
 


188 POEMS OF LOVE AND PHILOSOPHY. 
 
 In fort and camp for this emergency. 
 
 With lavish hand we've used the money 
 
 Meted out to us, upon those raw recruits; 
 
 And then, by special dispensations. 
 
 Lined we the pockets of commandants 
 
 With these bright eagles, until love of gain 
 
 Has sapped the soul of patriotism 
 
 And left but bones and skin as cover for 
 
 A whitened sepulcher, wherein did dwell 
 
 The heart's enthroned divinity. 
 
 For, as you know, this shining gold will gnaw 
 
 The conscience out of every one of us. 
 
 As does a cancer eat away the flesh 
 
 Of one who struggles with a deathly grasp. 
 
 Until his body rots in its embrace! 
 
 So, in this swim of life and living well, 
 
 These God-like men have devil turned 
 
 Beyond control of connnon decency. 
 
 And with their belching guns and spears in hand 
 
 Will coldly cleave asunder friend or foe 
 
 Who dares obtrusion on their mettle. 
 
 The forts around this city are secure, 
 
 Full provisioned, guns well trained. 
 
 With shot and shell sufticient for a siege. 
 
 Clev. Good report, my loyal secretary! 
 
 Now, buckle on your armor for the fray. 
 
 Ends well all things well ordained. 
 
 How long this strain will last no one can tell; 
 
 But when the break-up comes, as come it must. 
 
 Be sure our fortunes move upon the flood 
 
 As onward float we on this turbid stream. 
 
 Or else the eddies near the shore 
 
 Will find us helpless circling with them. 
 


GROVER THE FIRST. 189 
 
 And now, farewell, till out of chaos comes 
 Subjection to my will, and rule supreme 
 Over all these warring elements. 
 Exit Lam. 
 
 Clev. (^inedifating.) And so the game is set, and I must 
 
 roll 
 For all the pins, and if I miss the mark. 
 My head may roll from off my shoulders! 
 
 Re-enter Lam. (excited.) 
 
 Lam. Your excellency, our cause is lost. 
 
 Clev. Lost? 
 
 How dare you tell me such a tale as this. 
 
 When just a moment since j^ou said that all 
 
 Was well and everything on top? And now 
 
 You say our cause is lost! What ails you, man? 
 
 Fright has surely taken all your wits 
 
 Away, or else I can but call you mad. 
 
 Lam. Yes, mad, and lost beyond redemption! 
 
 For full two years we've both been worse than mad. 
 
 We've run at large while madmeji should be lock'd 
 
 Beyond the call of harm; l)ut being mad 
 
 And loose, we have, for lust of power. 
 
 Maddened sixty million people, who 
 
 Are now to be aveng'd for ruin wrought 
 
 By us, to fiends or devils turned. 
 
 And so the streets are full of wild-eyed men, 
 
 All struggling, yelling come they up to this 
 
 White mansion, full intent to take us hence 
 
 For swinging rope or bloody guillotine? 
 
 And then, again, it does appear that. God 
 
 Has so ordained it that the soul of man 
 
 Shall break from shining shekels when the test 
 


190 POEMS OF LOVE AND PHILOSOPHY. 
 
 Does come between betrayal of the rights 
 
 Divinely planted in each human breast — 
 
 The love of home and largest liberty — 
 
 And men with cunning measures meting out 
 
 Destruction to all rights and forms and laws, 
 
 By themselves dictated and imposed. 
 
 And thus the raw recruits on which we did 
 
 Depend for aid in this emergency 
 
 Have, as one man, ignor'd this volunteered 
 
 Subserviency, and from the smoldering 
 
 Embers of their early love of home and truth 
 
 Have kindled up a fire, that greater grows 
 
 Behind each flying spark of precious time, 
 
 And in this swimming rush of discontent 
 
 The heavy jaws of fate are closing back 
 
 Upon our hopes and forms like earthquake cracks 
 
 Upon lost victims, sifted in them. 
 
 And so the fruit of all this hellish work, 
 
 More bitter than the gall nuts from Aleppo, 
 
 Press our pallid lips for tasting. 
 
 Clev. Is this handwriting on the wall like that 
 Belshazzer saw? It looks that way just now. 
 The seas of want and hate are running high. 
 And all the tides at once seem striving for 
 The topmost roll, as on and on they come, 
 While stand exulting devils chuckling in 
 The breakers nearer shore, awaiting there 
 To gather in another crop of fools. 
 It cannot be that we are lost in this 
 Amazing strut of cranks and trades and long 
 Haired yeomen, lately so much cowed 
 That you could kick them in the streets like curs. 
 And send them howling to their dirty holes. 
 


GROVER THE FIRST. 191 
 
 Lamont, I wish to know where are those men 
 With minds prodigious, trustful, great and true, 
 Whom I have chosen for my counsellors? 
 I need their aid to help me hind a load 
 Of retrihution on the hacks of this 
 Unyielding people, till they cry aloud 
 For peace and rest from many ills by me 
 Inflicted on them for their jeering hate 
 And disobedience of my sov'reign will 
 In all affairs affecting this great state. 
 
 Lam. Most of them have made provision for 
 Themselves. A Wall street banker gives Carlisle 
 The second place for favors and support. 
 
 Clev. Devilish cheap for such subserviency! 
 
 Lam. The trusts have given Olney great retainers; 
 
 The G. 0. P's. have Gresham in their fold again; 
 
 Hoke goes cotton planting down in Georgia; 
 
 The howling hayseeds in the woolly West 
 
 Have stripped poor Morton to the tender skin. 
 
 And now he's bathing in his wife's great tul) 
 
 To get the tar and feathers off of him; 
 
 Brave Herbert's got the Charleston out to sea 
 
 To rid himself of your good pleasure; 
 
 Wilson's bad digestion of his tariff bill 
 
 Has given him the gripes; Dan Voorhees' corpse 
 
 Was found this morning floating in the river. 
 
 Lashed on lengthwise to a AVabash sapling. 
 
 There being no more schemes of greed to hatch. 
 
 Or corporation pipes to lay along 
 
 The lonesome avenues of ruin'cl trade. 
 
 John Sherman's waddled off to Canada 
 
 With all the boodle he can carrv. 
 


192 POEMS OF LOVE AND PHILOSOPHY. 
 
 And so your excellency and myself 
 
 Are all that's left of that great clan of men 
 
 Who tried in vain to hold a nation doAvn 
 
 By blasting, as with fire and racking scourge, 
 
 Each growing hope or prospect of relief, 
 
 That we might ride, rough shod, with gad and spur, 
 
 The hag of fortune over it. 
 
 Clev. Get out with all your -rot! I'll have no more. 
 
 Betrayed me, have you, as a dog deserts 
 
 His master in the midst of howling wolves? 
 
 I will not yield! There's nothing lost to me 
 
 That this strong arm cannot recover. 
 
 God rules the seas and circling universe, 
 
 But not more surely than I rule this people. 
 
 Woe supreme may shadow all the earth, 
 
 Hell gnaw out the solid bowels of 
 
 The rock-ribbed hills, and burn to dross 
 
 The Alps, the Andes and great Everest, 
 
 But all these ills compounded into one 
 
 Shall not deter me from my onward course 
 
 In this great game of rule or ruin. 
 
 Expectant troops await my coming now 
 
 In fort and field. I will assume command 
 
 As Cfesar did on like occasion — 
 
 Break through this seething mass of maddened men 
 
 AVith shot and shell, and show the gaping world 
 
 A hero never yet surpassed! 
 
 Lam. Too late your fervor comes to stay the tide. 
 
 Of human wrath, that sweeps upon us 
 
 Like a raging sea, relentless, 'round 
 
 A shivered vessel in midocean. 
 
 These jarring walls their purpose do portend, 
 


GROVER THE FIRST. 193 
 
 Like bloodhounds on the track of some great game, 
 
 Long baffling them in hot pursuit of it. 
 
 Do now, Avith lolling tongues and panting l)reath, 
 
 Cavorting, yelp and bay around a hole 
 
 In which the monster has found lodgment. 
 
 And thus it is with thy commanding self. 
 
 So, if no way of exit can be found. 
 
 You will surely swing to Hades from the arm 
 
 Of injured .Justice, long by you defied. 
 
 Exit Lam. 
 
 Clev. With all my ponderous weight of gall, 
 I must admit, in truth, that I have been 
 An aping fool — fed on presumption born 
 Of mind disordered by a tickled sense 
 Of great importance, strutting as a king 
 Supreme, and lost to all discretion! 
 I've sought to lead in schemes outspoken 
 When common sense would call an honest man 
 To follow in the wake outlined by Truth 
 On every day of my conceited rule. 
 I've warmed a viper in my breast that's stung 
 Me deathly. Now, there seems no certain cnve 
 Or antidote to take away the sting. 
 And so just retribution finds me here, 
 Undone, disgrac'd, alone in grief and fear. 
 With some returning sense of conscience lost. 
 So now, with not a mourner by my sitle, 
 I go to dregs and endless infamy. 
 And if I call to find a crack or hole, 
 That I may pull in after me. 
 
 [the end.] 
 





List of Miscellaneous Publications 
 
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 .adventures of a Tenderfoot— H. H. Sauber $1 00 
 
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 Among tlie Redwoods— Poems— Lillian H. Shuey - - - - 2t 
 
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 Complete Poetical Works of Joaquin Miller - - - - - 2 50 
 
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 History of Howard Presbyterian Church— S. H. Willey - - 1 00 
 
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 Man Who Might Have Been— Rev. Robt. Whitaker - - - 2o 
 
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 Seven Ages of Creation ..------- 2 50 
 
 Some Homely Little Songs— A.J. Waterhouse - - - - -125 
 
 Sonjs of the Soul— Joaquin Miller 100 
 
 Story of the Innumerable Company— David Starr Jordan - - 1 25 
 
 Sugar Pine Murmurings- Eliz. S. Wilson - 1 00 
 
 Training School for Nurses— A. Mabie - 50 
 
 Without a Name— Poems— Edward Blackman ----- 1 00 
 
 Wolves of the Sea— Poems— Herbert Bashford - - - - - 1 00 
 
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 Interviews with a Monocle —Leopold Jordan - - - - 50 
 
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 Rearing Silkworms — Mrs. Carrie Williams - - - - 1 25 
 
 Western View Series, No. i — San Francisco Views - 15 
 
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UUI )dO 1903