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Features of this copy which may be bibliographically unique, which may alter any of the images in the reproduction, or which may significantly change the usual method of filming are checked below. 0' Coloured covers / Couverture de couleur I I Covers dannaged / ' — ' Couverture endtmmagie I I Covers restored and/or laminated / ' — ' Couverture restaur^ et'ou pellicula I I Cover title missing /LetitiBde couverture manque I I Coloured maps / Cartes gtegraphiques en couleur ^^ Coloured ink (I.e. other than blue or black) / Encre de couleur (I.e. autre que bleue ou noire) r^ Coloured plates and/or illustrations / ' — ' Planches et/ou illustrations en couleur j I Bound with other material / ' — ' Reli* avec d'autres documents D D D 0' Only editton available / Seule 6 ^S (^'^) 2Ba - 5989 - Fax Tlit Radiant Road ETHELWYN V^^ETHERALD AutAor of "Tangled in Stars," ttc. i'^"*^;AR'I'l ct V6R1TAT1 BOSTON Richard G. Badger 1904 71G79 Copjiinht. lint, b; Bthtl«7a WMh«>lit> and grieven, With a meuage clear at writing on a wall ; Saying, " She that paitrd away, though her feet were made of clay, Bore a heart as chatte at gold ; Though the wore the common yoke, every tyllable she tpnke Was uplifting, love-controlled. No indifference or disdain kept her free from others' pain, Life was precious to her — every drop; For the querulous complaint, for the breath of scandal faint, She had never time to stop; She has gone, but still her face, like a sunbeam, haunts the place, And the memory of her foot upon the stair, Like a breeze upon the brow, like a perfume from a bough. Puts an end to sorrow, mourning and despair." When the silent voices call, and the days and years ihall fall. Silent fall, like the leaves upon the lea. Will the angel say such words of you and me ? 14 THE FAILURE A Failure, who had ne'er achieved Self victory, at last lay dead. " Poor Failure I" thui hiii neifthbori grieved. " Poor miierable wretch," they taid, " Hi» weakneu wa» the worst of crimes, He failed at least a thousand times." Meanwhile the Failure gave to God His vain attempts. Remorsefully And prostrate on the skyey sod, " I failed a thousand times," mid he. " Welcome !" rang out the heavenly chimes, " He strove — he strove a thousand times." THR PRICE O ardent youth who covets truth, And follows its decrees, Remcmb'^r this : whatever bliss Awaits thee, 'tis not ease ; No, ne'er shalt thou find ease. O loving heart, where'er thou art, The tumult in the vein And in the soul is not the whole Of life. For thee is pain ; No love but hath its pain. O ye who strive, the fates that drive You forward in your quest. Will give in strife your deepest life And not in empty rest ; No joy for you in rest. U THE BATTLE On one iide atandr, the world-dcslruyer, Death, And on the uther, oh, most piteous slrife, An infant with a rose leaf's look and breath, A baby fighting for its little life. Death hati seen much of anguish, dull and wild. And terrible and sharp-edged as a knife j But this might move e'en Death, this stricken child. This baby struggling for its little life. SOUL AND BOLY The body says, " I am thirsty," The body says, " I am cold," The body says, " I am weary," And last of a'l, " I am old." And for iti thirst there is water, And shelter warm in the blast, And for its ache there is slumber ; But it dies, it dies at last. But I am a soul, please heaven, And though I freeze in my cage. Or bum in a sleepless fever, I shall live untouched of age. IS TO A YOUNG CHILD SwMt infant, lately born, Almoat I envy yuu Vour little heart -inwom, Your little leniea new. You deep and deep — the apell Of ileep ii like a chain ; Ah, once I >lept at well, So shall I sleep again I Soon, soon your cup of life Shall run in wtnc and foam ; And afterward conic strife, And hurts, and thoughts of home. Your first act on this earth — This vale of tears and mist — Was but to wail your birth, Poor infant pessimist ! My last act ere I die. When fades the final mile, And fails thu final sigh, I think will be to cmile. But should you linger near That happy smile to see, I truly hope, my dear. You will not envy me. IT A MEETING Beautiful body and beautiful soul, They met on the street one day. And the beautiful spirit's compassion stole Through her ugly eyes of gray ; And the dark soul's pity showed its face Through her lovely eyes of blue ; But to help each other's evil case Was out of their povifer to do. A LINE FROM EMERSON To thy soul's highest instincts O be true ! Though thick around thy heaven-girt solitude Ihe earth's low aims, low thoughts, low wants shall teem. The myriad voices of the world shall sue With scorn, persuasive wile, or clamors rude. "But thou, God's darling, heed thy private dream ! " 18 STRENGTH For strength we ask For the ten thousand times repeated task, The endless smallnesses of every day. No, not to lay My life down in the cause I cherish most, That were too easy. But whate'er it cost, To fail no more In gentleness toward the ungentle, nor In love toward the unlovely, and to give Each day I live. To every hour with outstretched hand its meed Of not-to-be-regretted thought or deed. WORK We must work to live, Not body-life alone but soul-life. If to our work ourselves we do not give. Our thoughts, our aspirations, and our whole life. Then days become a torture, moments wound. The lightest hours are leaden at the core, And oftentimes we hear that awful sound Time's ocean, with its spirit-crushing roar. It* THE BRIDE OF DEATH. But tell ui of the bride, we said. " So one with him she seemed to be, The bridegroom's kiss upon her lips Lay almost visibly. Her dress? Oh, roses, roses white. That heaped the hands, the neck, the breast Of her the whitest rose of all That ev.ir bridegroom pressed. A glad look? Yea, the raptured look Of one that drops from out her slim, sweet hands all other gifts of life To hold them out to him. Her dower ? She brought him nothing save Her lovehness, her life, her breath ; He gave her wealth. And title? Yea, The old, old name of Death." I PITY ME NOT Pity me not : it makes me pitiable. Grieve not for me : 'twill set me grieving, too. L.ome not forbodingly, but courage-full, And speak the shining word that's strong and true. " If you would have me fearless, have no fears; If you would have me light and sorrow-free. Then give your steps the music of the spheres. Make your eye steadfast as eternity. SELF-RIGHTEOUSNESS Unto the iliamond with a flaw The perfect pebble spoke : " Alas, poor sister, some great law Of heaven you have broke, " Since Imperfection's curse I see Whene'er your form I view ; But cheer up I Some day you may be A perfect pebble, too." BEREAVEMENT In the far deeps of consciousness, Something that lies profoundly sleeping Awakes to life beneath the stress Of heart-sore weeping. Some certainty, some final strength. From which there can be no appealing , An inward siireness that at length Shall work our healing. How strange it is ! The dark, dark path That seems to lead to blackness only, Will surely bring us peace. It hath Its angel I 'ly, Who at the parting of the ways Awaits us, for our grieving clearer, And to our dulled, earth-blinded gaze Brings heaven nearer. 21 THE AWAKENING An average man awoke one night, And thought of his past in the pale moonlight ; At times he muttered, at times he moaned, And once he very distinctly groaned, At which his guardian spirit inquired What secret cause this dole inspired !! ^u^' T''y *"'' ^ ''"^ thinking," said he, "About the people I used to be. " There's the simpleton I was when — well It really would hardly do to tell ; ' And the unutterable ass I was when — but we'll let that pass; And the awful idiot I was when No, don't let's speak of /Aat again ; And the inconceivable fool I made Of myself when — w/i_y don't memories fade. Or drown, or fly, or die in a hole Instead of eternally burning the soul f But at any rate, you now can see Why I mourn o'er the people I used to be." The p.ngt! smiled with as undefiled A glance as that of a little child ; And said, " I am musing happily About the people you're going to be : The soul that has learned to break its chains. The heart grown tenderer through its pains, The ramd made richer for its thought. The character remorse has wrought To far undreamed capacities, The will that sits, a king, at ease. Nay, marvel not for I plainly see And joy in the people you're going to be." The average man felt a purer light About hia soul than the moon-ray bright. For once no evil spirit jeered And the average man was strangely cheered. A PROFITABLE LOSS There came a little blind boy to steal my heart away, Then said I, " You little blind boy, I'll have to say you nay j For I store my honey in it, And I keep my money in it, And I need it every minute of the day." He stole it, did the blind boy, in spite of all my wrath, But surely she that hath not hath more than she that hath ; For the air is sweet with honey. And the earth is rich with money. And the twain of them make sunny all my path. And if any sage should ask of me with corrugated brow. Why I do not wish my heart back, I only could avow It's because a little money, And a small amount of honey. Would seem rather sadly funny to me now. S3 n TO MY FRIEND Forget not, dearest, vvlieii thou goes On high or homely tasks intent, w"?'*^""""*'' '''"""'S or winter snows With thee my thoughts are blent. That howso harsh the c.'ty's din. Or solitary seem thy place. Thou still art folded safely in My brooding heart's embrace. HIS TURN A good soul once, not without qualms, Knocked at the gates eternal, And begged of Lazarus an alms For use in realms infernal. "The rich man of whose crumbs you ate Needs water. O surprise him With just one drop." He smiled sedate : " I fear 'twould pauperize him ; " And then, you know, I can't revoke My rule, which is unswerving, I never give to wealthy folk Unless they are deserving." M LIPS AND EYES Ai I passed her house I thought I would call and take her by surprise. "Why, how do you do?" said her lovely lips; " what kept you away?" asked her eyes. " I doubted my welcome," I sadly said, and spoke without disguise. " Are you sure of it now ?" asked her laughing lips, " You know you are sure," said the eyes. "I have tried my utmost and more," I said, "to stifle my heart's vain cries ;" " It's a serious case," said the careless lips ; " It is for us," said the eyes. "Your cruel words dug the grave of Hope, and m Hope's grave Love lies ;" "White lies or black?" asked the scoffing lips, " Oh, piteous sight," said tlie eyes. " But now I must go, for I sail to-night, and time unpitying flies;" "Don't let me keep you," exclaimed the lips; "do let us keep you," the eyes. She gave me a cold, cold hand to take, and we said our last good-byes ; And then as I feared her chilly lips I kissed her on the eyes. A man can hear two languages at once if he only tries ; ' " I don't see how you dare," said the lips ; "but we see," said the eyes. n 'il THE POET-S SPRING " "^of ^f"'' *"' ""-y '^P"'>fr focms after Feb- ruary 21st."— Letter from an Editor] When January's icy beard Shakes like a rattling bough, The poet's heart is sweetly cheered, 'Tis springtime with him now. The streamlets flow, the warm winds ebb, Although the pipes have burst, For summer " pomes " are due on Feb- Kuary 21st. The yellow dandelions gild The snowdrifts eight feet high. The bluebird's song of joy is spilled Beneath an iron sky. How sweet on zero days the web Of fancies, poet-nursed, And sad that blossoms fade on Feb- Ruary 21st. Ah, would / were an editor. While wintry blasts endure, A daisy time with daisy rhyme ^ I'd have, you may be sure. I'd bathe in buttercups ad lib., And all my buds should burst And bloom till long long after Feb- Ruary 21st. THE RICH MR. SMITH. A« past the magnificent palace we bowled, The driver explained this exhibit in gold Was made by the millionaire, Everard Smith, A man whom Success was on pleasant terms with. But while we exclaimed and admired and oh, oh'd, Till the horses were turned at the bend of the road He corrected himself : " It belongs to his kith And his kin ; he is now the late Mr. Smith." Somehow that word " late" struck us cold as the chill Of a new-opened grave when the night-wind is still, And it made wealth and splendor the veriest myth. As we sighed in a whisper, "Oh, /oor Mr. Smith." WHEN TIME TURNS When ashes go back to fire, And the cataract to the upper stream, And fulfillment to desire, And the rugged fact to airy dream, Then shall dead youth awake from its long sleep. And life like a tall, slim, silver fountain leap. When the mount becomes a slope. And the dead lea.' a pointed bud, And memory is hope. And dying limbs bear dancing blood. Then shall young love— then shall young love return. And the old love tales make the spirit burn. 27 m' HONEY AND SALT Rose-leaf d«miel, tell me this— You with your seventeen years — How much honey is in a kiss, And how much salt in tears? " Nay," Khe said, "such words, I wis. Are not for my maiden ears. How should I know the sweet of a kiss Or the bitterness of tears? " White-haired woman, whose grief and bliss Overrun seventy years. Tell me true, does the sweet of a kiss Outweigh the bitter of tears? " Yea," she said, " but the bitterness Enmixed with the sweet appears: My life's most tender and treasured kiss Is kept in the brine of tears." THE DEAD FACE The pale moon and the pale, pale face Come back again to me ; The pale moon to its skyey place. And the face to memory. Out of the darkness they arise. And with the dawn depart — The moon that lights the empty skies. The face that lights my heart. THE NIGHTINGALE AND THE THORN A niglitingale quite forlorn Thin made her plaint to the morn : " I've hunted in vain," ran the pitiful strain, "And I can't find a sign of a thorn. There's nothinf; to make me sad, There's not a thorn to he hH biir(<.-n from me by a word, Drav .1 )t too neai, for as a wounded bird Droops blmdiy t. the shelter of its nest. So would I feel my way unto thy breast. Ah, why are God's best gifts on me conferred? Ihe transport of the heart, the spirit stirred Yet softened, snd this absolute sweet rest. The dark and empty-handed day sets sail On ruddy waves of sunset, leaving this Dear joy beyond all power to conceal. All power to give ut'trance. What avail Dim words? You bring me all things save the bliss Of knowing how to tell the bliss I feel. GOOD-BYE Good-bye, my love ; though multitudes of years And miles and faces come between us twain Though I should never hear your voice again, btill are you mine, mine, mine ! Not bv mv tears — ' ' You never made them flow j nor by my fears, * or I was fearless born ; but by the rain Of joys that turned to seas of sunny grain This heart that showed aforetime slender spears. Novv on my clouded day of life shall come No loss. The streams of gold that poured from suns Unseen, have turned to gold this harvest heart • I am all sunlight-colored, and the sum Of by-gone happiness that through me runs Will make you mine forever, though apart. ta Il ' LOVE'S PHASES Love has a thousand phases. Oftentimes For very joy of her own life she weeps ; Or like a timid, wistful child she creeps To sheltering arms ; or like a spirit climbs The white heights scaled by poets in their rhymes- Imagination's lone and splendid steeps — Or drifts with idle oar upon the deeps Of her own soul to undiscovered climes. Hers is the rapture of the dying saint, The exultation of the mother when Upon her breast her first-born faintly stirs For the first time ; and every morn doth paint Upon each rock and tree and stream and glen. Some inextinguishable look of hers. AUGUST IN NOVEMBER On this bleak evening, pacing to and fro The silent rooms beneath this lonely roof, Noting the echo of a distant hoof, Or the November winds that wildly blow. One thought pursues me whereso'er I go As close entwined with me as warp to woof Dear love, no power can hold our hearts aloof. Because I love you so ! I love you so ! To-night your shadowy form to me is real. As when your visible presence made more blue The August sky and turned to song its rain. Gone is the storm — the solitude — I feel You near to me. What can November do.' For us midsummer days have come again. AT PARTING Good-bye ! Good-bye ! my soul goes after thee, tiuick as a bird that quickens on the wing, Softly as winter softens into spring, And as the moon sways to the swaying sea. So is my spirit drawn resistlessly j Good-bye ! Yet closer round my life shall cling 1 hy tenderness, the priceless offering That drifts through distance daily unto me. O eager soul of mine, fly fast, Hy fast ! Take with thee hope and courage, thoughts that thrill The heart with gladness under sombre skies. O hvmg tenderness, that no sharp blast Of bitter fate or circumstance can chill. My life with thine grows strong, or fails, or dies. THE SWIFTEST THOUGHT O sounding winds that tirelessly are blowing Through the wide starlit spaces of the night ; eager rains that sweep the distant height, And restless streams impetuously flowing, And clouds that will delay not in your going And ships that sail and vanish from the sight', And happy birds that stay not in your flight. And suns upon your skyey pathway glowing :— Poor laggards all ! One tender thought outstrips you. Go, little thought, and tell my love from me 1 care for him to-day as yesterday. Ah, how its strength and swiftness doth eclipse you I For now the answer comes invisibly And instantly, and in the surest way. 36 'I IN A DARK HOUR Yes, yes, I know what you would say, and yet Life is so sweet ! life is so very sweet ! Leaves dancing in the sun make quick the beat Of saddest heart, and Love must still forget Life's toil and care, its fever and its fret. How blue the sky shines through the summer'! heat, How merrily the blood defies the sleet ; One golden hour illumes a gray year. Let Those talk of tears who never knew relief ; For me the hoarded honey of the past Outlives the wintry interval of pain j Come loneliness, or lovelessness, or grief ! The memory of days too sweet to last Shall make my heart run o'er with joy again. THE HOUSE OF LOVE My lover built a house for me, And roofed it with his tender smile, And walled it with hi& tender arms, A little while — a little while ; And warmed it with his flaming heart. And windowed it with visions sweet. And floored it with the rosy dreams That stretched before my happy feet. But when a deathly storm arose. And choked the fire and rent the floor My flowering windows streamed with dark That flowed with sunny light before. So now a houseless wanderer I linger underneath the sky ; My house of love is left a wreck Within the lane of memory. Is left a wreck. But night once more Enroofs me with :; tender smile. And gives me back my rosy floor A little while — a little while. 87 THE WORLD WELL LOST My one dark love shall fix the day, The solemn day when we shall wed ; Nor know I if on green or gray, On winter white or autumn red. My happy bridal moon shall rise, Nor which of all the blossoming Mays Shall wreathe the gates of Paradise Upon my dark love's day of days. But this I know : her steps will be Like rose leaves falling from the rose. Her eyes a fathomless strange sea To which my stream of being flows ; And tliis I know, her lips will rest As lightly (Jn the drowsing lid As leafy shadows on the breast Of some sweet grave all flr>wer-hid. In some sweet grave all flower-hid, A thousand times the blooms of May Shall visit us the leaves amid, When my love, Death, has named the d U UNKNOWN CHILDREN I meet tliem in the country lane, In village shop and city street, With cheeks all glowing in the rain, Or voices gladdening in the sleet, Or eyes enraptured with the snow The children I should like to know. How fair creation is to them ! Unweighted by the cloak of years They dance upon its lustrous hem. And lose in rainbows all their tears. How easily the hearts o'erflow Of children we should like to know ! Their sleep is deeper than our peace. Their waking gladder than our dreams. Their guardian angels never cease To speak to them in winds and streams. The days are lifetimes, sweet and slow, To children we should like to know. O little heart !