CIHM Microfiche Series (l\/lonographs) ICI\/IH Collection de microfiches (monographles) Canadian Inttituta tor Hittoricjl Microraproductiona / Inatitut Canadian da microraproductions hiitoriquaa 996 Technical and Bibliographic Notes / Notes technique et bibllographiques The Institute has attempted to obtain the best original copy available (or filming. 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. D D D Coloured covers / Couverture de couleur I I Covers damaged / ' —I Couverture endommagte I I Covers restored and/or laminated / — ' Couverture restauree et/ou pellicula I I Cover title missing /Letitrede couverture manque rn Coloured maps / Cartes giographiques en couleur I I Coloured lnl( (I.e. other than blue or Wack) / Encie de cou,eur (i.e. autre que bleue ou noire) r^ Coloured plates antt/or lllustratkjns / ' — ' Planches et/ou Illustrations en couleur I I Bound with other material / ' — ' Reli* avec d'autres documents Only edition available / Seule edition disponlble Tight binding may cause shadows or distortion along interior margin / La rellure serrie peut causer de I'ombre ou de la distorsion le long de la marge intdrieure. Blank leaves added during restoiatnns may appear within the text. Whenever possible, these have been omitted from filming / II se peut que certaines pages blanches ajouttes k>is d'une restauratlon apparaissent dans le texte, mais, kxsque cela 6taJt P(»sible, ces pages n'ont pas ^ (ilintes. L'Institut a microfilme le meilleur examplaire qu'il lui a ete possible de se procurer. Les details de cet exem- plaire qui sont peut-4tre uniques du point de vue bibli- ographique, qui peuvent modifie' une Image reproduite, ou qui peuvent exiger une modifications dans la meth- ode normale de fllmage sont indiqu6s ci-dessous. I I Coloured pages / Pages de couleur I I Pages damaged/ Pages endommagees I I Pages restored and/or laminated / ' — ' Pages restaur«es et/ou pellcultes r^ Pages discoloured, stained or foxed / "^ Pages decotor6es,lachet«esoupiqu6es I I Pages detached / Pages d«tach«es rT' Showthrough/ Transparence n/( Quality of print varies / ' — ' Qualiti inegale de I'impression I I Includes supplementary material ' Comprend du materiel suppldmentaire I I Pages wholly or partially obscured by errata ' — ' slips, tissues, etc., have been retllmed to ensure the best possible image / Les pages totalement ou partiellement obscurcles par un feuillet d'errata, une pelure, etc., ont Hi fllm^s i nouveau de fa^on k obtenir la meilleure image possible. I I Opposing pages with varying colouration or ' — ' discolouratlons are filmed tvnce to ensure the best possible Image / Les pages s'opposant ayant des colorations variables ou des decol- orations sont fllm^es deux fois afin d'obtenir la meilleur image possible. D Adcitionat comments / CommentaJres suppl^mentajres: This i Ctdo lOX Mm it cufini fjlmt ItMt dntt filmt Iwrtd •u ta uction ratio ditekad btkm/ i« dt cMuetion indiqtii ci-dtnous 18X 22X »X »X J ~ 12X 16X 20X 24X 28 X 32X Th( copy filmtd h«r* hat bMn raproduead thanki to tha aanaroaity of: National Library of Canada L'aiiamplaira film* fut raproduit grlca t la gAnaroiit* da: Blbliotheque nationals du Canada Tha imagaa appaaring hara ara tha batt quality poatibia Gonaidaring tha condition and laglbillty of tha original copy and in kaaping with tha filming contract apacificationa. Original capiat in prlntad papar covara ara fllmad baglnning with tha front covar and anding on tha latt paga with a prlntad or illuatratad impraa- tion. or tha back covar whan appropriata. All othar original coplaa ara fllmad baglnning on tha firtt paga with a printad or Illuatratad Impraa- tion. and anding on tha laat paga with a prlntad or illuatratad impraaaion. Tha laat racordad frama on aach microfieha than contain tha lymbol -^ Imaaning "CON- TINUED"), or tha tymbol ▼ Imaaning "END"), whiehavar appliaa. Mapa. plataa, charta, ate, may ba fllmad at diffarant raduction ratioa. Thota too larga to ba antiraly includad in ona axpotura ara fllmad baglnning in tha uppar laft hand cornar, laft to right and top to bottom, at many framat aa raqulrad. Tha following diagramt illuatrata tha mathod: Lat imagat tulvantaa ont ttt raproduitai avac la plut grand tain, compta tanu da la condition at da la nanata da I'axamplaira film*, at an conformlta avac laa conditiont du contrat da fllmaga. Laa axamplairaa originaua dont la couvartura an papiar aat imprimta tont fllmtt an commancant par la pramlar plat at an tarmlnant loit par la darnitra paga qui comporta una amprainta d'Impratilon ou d'illuttratlon, toit par la tacond plat, talon la caa. Tout laa autrat axamplairat orlginauii tont fllmat an commancant par la pramiara paga qui comporta una amprainta d'Impraatlon ou d'illuttratlon at an tarminant par la darniira paga qui comporta una talla amprainta. Un daa tymbolaa tulvantt tpparaltra tur la darnitra Imaga da chaqua microfieha. talon la cat: la tymbola — » tignifia "A SUIVRE", la tymbola ▼ tignifia "FIN". Lat cartat, planchat, tablaaux, ate, pauvant itra fllmaa 1 dat taux da raduction diffaranti. Lortqua la documant att trap grand pour itra raproduit an un taul cllcha, 11 att filmt ^ ptrtir da I'angia tupiriaur gaucha, da gaucha i droita. at da haut an bat. an pranant la nombra d'imagat nacattaira. Lat diagrammat tuivantt illuttrant la mathoda. 1 2 3 1 2 3 4 5 6 MKxocorr risoiution tbt chart (ANSI and ISO TEST CHART No. 2) ^ APPLIED IM/JGE In ^^^ 1653 East Moin Street ^^^ Rochester, N«w York 14609 USA rj^ C?16) *82 - 0300 - Phone ^S (716) 2B8 - 5989 - Fo. Tangled in Stars "^. If ^— ^ - Poems ^ I Etheiwyn h '\ M^etherald Boston: Richard G. Badger The Gorham Press: 1902 Copyright 190J by Fthelwyn Wethewld ' Rights Rntrve J 7105-X' Alii Printed at The Gorham Press, Boston TO MY COMRADE Down to thy bre st 'he leaves slip, When we twain in comradeship, Go with the breeze under the trees ^ Out in the wood where the heart belongs so to thy breast, thus leaf-caresse. I, ' Fly all my little leafy songs. CONTENTS Tangled in Stars The Leaves Among the Leaves At Waiting A March Night The First Bluebird The Rain Flower and Flame The Sunflowers Home .... The Plowman In Summer Rain - Boating by Starlight From my Window Green Boughs of Home The Wild Jessamine Out-Door Air June .... The Pasture Field In June Home-Sickness The Song Sparrow's Nest Summer in the City . In August The Budding Child - 9 lo 10 II II 12 '3 >4 ■S >7 i8 iS >9 20 2t 21 22 23 24 25 26 26 27 Separation Earth's Silences The Chickadee The Indigo Bird The Fisherman The Little Noon The Long Days of the Year Stars and Flowers At Dusk Yesterday and To-day An Old. Influence - If One Might Live - The Roads of Old The Silent Snow November Unheard Niagaras Song - - - . Winter Sunset • The Deserted House November and December A Winter Picture - The Passing Year 23 29 30 3' 32 33 34 35 35 36 36 37 38 39 40 40 41 41 42 44 44 45 TANGLED IN STARS TANGLED IN STARS Tangled in stars and spirit-steeped in dew The city worker to his desk returns While 'mid the stony streets remembrance burns. Like honeysuckle running through and througl^ A barren hedge. He lifts his load anew, And carries it amid the thronging ferns And crowding leaves of memory, while yearns Above him once again the open blue. His letter-littered desk goes up in flowers- The world recedes, and backward dreamily Come days and nights, like jewels rare and few. And while the consciousness of those bright hours Abides with him, we know him yet to be Tangled in stars and spirit-steeped in dew THE LEAVES When with an airy covering Around the summer's woodland wall, Or wreathing all the doors of spring, Or painting all the paths of fall. The leaves go on their lovely ways. With naught to ask, with all to give. They make for me the empty days Of winter lonelier to live. AMONG THE LEAVES The near sky, the under sky. The low sky that I love! I lie where fallen leaves lie. With a leafy sky above. And draw the colored leaves nigh, And push the withered leaves by. And feel the woodland heart upon me, Brooding like a dove. The bright sky, the moving sky. The sky that autumn weaves. I see where scarlet leaves fly The sky the wind bereaves. I see the ling'ring leaves die, I hear the dying leaves sigh. And breathe the woodland breath Made sweet of all her scented leaves. AT WAKING When I shall go to sleep and wake again At dawning in another world than this, What will atone to me for all I miss? The light melodious footsteps of the rain The press of leaves against my window pane, I he sunset wistfulness and morning bliss The moon's enchantment and the twilight kiss Ut winds that wander with me through the lane. Will not my soul remember evermore The earthly winter's hunger for the spring _ The wet sweet cheek of April, and the rush Ut roses through the summer's open door' The feelings that the scented woodland's brine At evening with the singing of the thrush? A MARCH NIGHT A wild wind and a flying moon. And drifts that shrink and cower- A heart that leaps at the thought, How soon The earth will be in flower. Behind the gust and the ragged cloud And the sound of loosening floods, I see young May with her fair head bowed, Walking in a world of buds. THE FIRST BLUEBIRD First, first! That was thy song that burst Out of the spring of thy heart, Incarnate spring that thou art! Now must the winter depart. Since to his age-heavy ear Fluteth the youth of the year. Low, low. Delicate, musical, slow; Lighten, O heaven that lowers, Blossom, ye fields into flowers. Thicken, ye branches to bowers; And thou, O my heart, like a stone. Wilt thou keep winter alone? Sweet, sweet. But there is lead in the feet. No spring thoughts in the head, But wintry burdens instead. Nay, they are gone, they have fled. Fled while the bluebird sung; The earth and the heart are young. THE RAIN I heard my lover pleading Beneath the ivied pane, I looked out through the darkness And lo, it was the rain! I heard my lover singing His low heart-stirring songs, I went without and sought him To whom my soul belongs. I found him in the darkness, His tears were on my face; O sweet, your voice has oierced me. And your unhurrying pace. He gave me as we wandered Adown the winding lane, A thousand tender touches And that heart-stirring strain. The lamps and fires and faces No longer did I see; I walked abroad with Music .\nd Love and Poetry. >3 FLOWER AND FLAME Between the flowering and the flaming woods, All greening in the rain The fields unfold, The sun upon the grain Outpours its gold, And sweet with bloom and dew are nature's moods Between the flowering and the flaming woods. Between the flaming and the flowering woods The wind bemoans a host Of withered leaves, The winter is a ghost That grieves and grieves Around a ruined house whtre none intrudes. Between the flaming and the flowering woods. O woods that break in flower or in flame. My winged days and hours Shall meet their doom Like to your leaves and flowers; Let not your bloom And brightness put my flying years to shame, O woods that break in flower or in flamel 14 THE SUNFLOWEP.S When lamps are out and voices fled And moonlight floods the earth like rain, I steal outside and cross the lane And stand beside the sunflower bed- Each blind, unopened face is turned 1 o where the western -lories burned VVi'^h [^"^l' "'^ "1 '"'S''' come again, With some last wcrd he left unsaid When Dawn with slender shining hand Inscribes a message on the wall, I follov/ at the silent call To where my tall sun-lovers stand fheir wistful heads are lifted hi<'h Toward the flaming eastern sk)" As though some voice had turned them all Some secret voice of strong command. ' Ah,^ should I from the windowed height Keep vijil in the room above. And see them lightly, surely move Through the chill stretches of the night. Would r ot the heart within me burn. As oyally I watched them turn. With sweet undoubting faith and love I'rom vanished light to dawning light' HOME Wherever on far distant farms The orchard trees lift bounteous arms, The lane is grape-leaved, woodland dense, The chipmunk leaps the zigzag fence. The horses from the plow's last round Drink with a deep sweet cooling sound, And with the thin young moon afloat Comes up the frog's heart-easing note. And tree toads' endless melody, Oh that is home, Is restful home to me. Whenever on a distant street Two charmful eyes I chance to meet. The look of one that knows the grace Of every change on nature's face; Whose sealike soul is open wide To breezes from the farther side. Whose voice arid movement seem to give The knowledge of how best to live And how to live most happily, Oh that is home, Is blessed home to me. THE PLOWMAN I heard the plowman sing in the wind, And sing right merrily. As down in the cold of the sunless mould, The grasses buried he. And now the grasses sing in the wind. Merrily do they sing; While down in the cold of the sunless mould, Is the plowman slumbering. i6 IN SUMMER RAIN Hovv vivid')- in summer rain I he commonest of tints are seen- I he robin IS a scarlet stain Again, t the shining evergreen. ^Thi?l-'il"u?''?"''"'-'«^-» score R Jn « '''''>^'"d the reddening leaves- Ram-flushed wind-tossed, are wfitfng for Red-I.pped or redder-breasted thieves The willows, pallid in the sun, Are sunny in the rainy dark A deeper brown the streamlets run An-1 deeply black the orchard bark. And yet, although the clouds are gray, These freshening tint, of every hue Would intimate a rain at play ^ Or at the worst a storm of dew. The quality of mercy flows Upon the meadows' thirsty brood. And every brightening grass blade shows The quality of gratitude. 17 BOATING BY STARLIGHT The breeze has washed m* clean of cares, The night has broken Labor's bars; My soul and I through heavenly airs Are voyaging among the stars. Soft shadows wrap the shore, the lake. The pier, the bridge, the gazing eyes. In splendid loneliness we take This jewelled journey through the skies. FROM MY WINDOW (IN SHHi.vr. ) The plums and cherries are in bloom, The apple trees are on the brink Of swimming in a sea of pink; The grass is thick'ning like the gloom Of winter twilights, and from far Each dandelion is a star. The birds fill all the air, and one Is building at my window sill. Across the lane the squirrels run. And like a p )et's ghost, so still And spirit white, a butterfly Appears and slowly wavers by. Beyond the pine trees, tall and dark, Across the lower orchard, where The honey-laden peach and pear Give to the bees their burden— hark ! Swift flies the thunderous express. And leaves more quiet quietness. i8 GRKK.V HOUGHS OF HOXIK Green boughs of home, that come between Mme eye, and this far distant scene Your old serene familiar shapeii Each lissom willow tree that dips Into the stream her golden whips, The sassafras beside the gate Where twilight strollers linger late; The hemlock groups that dimly hold Their own against the noonday gold, rhe maple mes that give the Wew A green or luminous avenues Those oldest apple trees whose forms Have braved a hundred years of storms. And turn a face a. blithe and free io greet their second century; The younger orchard's heavy edge Fr,?r«'''."!,''"''°"">'°'^"='"'edjfe; Fruit-Hushed, snow-burdened or bloombri ^ht It comes to my home-longing sight; The billowy woods across the road, "here all the winds of heaven strode And sang in every towering stem, Would that I were at home^with ihem! For under these down-bend.ng boughs A thousand tender memories house^ Vonr'ni ^'T f''. ^"""P^nions roam, Vour peace be theirs, green boughs of horn.- •9 THE WILD JESSAMINE (IN THE SOUTH) The sun of March is hot and bold, The rain of March is loud. O jessamine, your cups of gold Uplift to sun and cloud; To song of bird, to breath of herd, To light and wind and dew. Lift up, lift up, the golden cup. And bid me drink with you! The woods of March are hung with green, The green is hung with bloom; The olive boughs, O jessamine, Let all your gold illume. To woodland wine — the drink that pine And oak, and yeupon brew — Lift up, lift up the golden cup. And let me drink with you! The breath of March is violet sweet. The arms of March are soft; O jessamine, the time is fleet, Lift all your cups aloft! To looks that make the spirit ache — That pierce, deny, pursue — Lift up, lift up the golden cup. And I will drink with you! OrT-DOOR AIR TTu '"?',"S to the cottage eaves Ana 0. the buddi„:iTh:t?Ei::° x^-^e. ThougK armed with weapons of the icv north o'ftc:le1l7,^''"™^»' '"''•"" ■•■.=.. °"L'3ar£aT£tSr:.:?ji^X.n. JUNE Before the green wheat turneth yellow Before the green leaf reddeneth, ifrM'^^" glasses fade in death, Before the green corn comes in ear Then is the keen time, Then IS the queen time, I hen ,s the green time of the year. Betre IT^ 'Nimble-berries thicken, Before young grapes be-in to quicke-, Be ore young robins flutter doln. ' Before young bu^ernuts embrown Before young love has grown too dear I hen are the long days Then are the song days, Then are the young days of the year. THE PASTURE FIELD When spring has burned The ragged robe of winter, stitch by stitch, And deftly turned To moving melody the wayside ditch, The pale green pasture field behind the bars Is goldened o'er wich dandelion stars. When summer keeps Quick pace with sinewy, white-shirted arms, And daily steeps In sunny splendor all her spreading farms. The pasture field is flooded foamy white With daisy faces looking at the light. When autumn lays Iter golden wealth upon the forest floor, And all the days Look backward at the days that went before, A pensive company, the asters, stand, Their blue eyes brightening the pasture land. When winter lifts A sounding trumpet to his strenuous lips. And shapes the drifts To curves of transient loveliness, he slips Upon the pasture's ineffectual brown A swan-soft vestment delicate as down. IN JUNE The trees are full, the winds are tame, I he fields are pictures in a frame Of leafy roads and fair abodes, Steeped in content too large for name. Across slender bridge of night The luminous days are swift in Hight, As though 'twere wrong to cover son^^ And scent and greenness from the light' Within the snowy clouds above Sits viewless Peace, a brooding dove- For every nest there beats a breast, ±'or every love some answering love. The ways are thronged with angel win^s The heart with angel whisperings; ° 'ru'^'15 j^ '' ^^'^'"^ '" ''^PPy dreams Ihe bird of gladness sings and sings. 23 HOME-SICKNESS At twilight on this unfamiliar street, With its affronts to aching ear and eye, I think of restful ease in fields that lie Untrodden by a myriad fevered feet. O green and dew and stillness! O retreat Thick-leaved and squirrel-haunted! By and by I too shall follow all the thoughts that fly Bird-like to you, and find you, ah, how sweet. Not yet — not yet. To-night it almost seems That I am hasting up the hemlock lane. Up to the door, the lamp, the face that pales And warms with sudden joy. But these are dreams; I lean on memory's breast, and she is fain To soothe my yearning with her tender tales. 24 THE SONG SPARROWS NEST Here where tumultuous vines Shadow the porch at the west. Leaf with tendril entwines Under a song sparrow's nest. J"f' « fhe height of my heart, When I am loitering near. And, exaggeration apart, Almost equally dear. She in her pendulous nook Sways on the warm wind tide, 1 with a pen or a book Rock as soft at her side Comrades with nothing to say Neither of us intrudes. But through the lingering day Each of us sits and broods. Not upon hate and fear, Not upon grief or doubt, Not upon spite or sneer, These we could never hatch out. ■^/le broods on wonderful things ■ Quickening life that belongs lo a heart and a voice and wings, But— I'm not so sure of my songs ! Then in the summer night, When I awake with a start, I think of the nest at the height— The leafy height of my heart; I think of the mother love, Of the patient wings close furled, Ut the sky that broods above. Of the love that broods on the world 25 SUMMER IN THE CITY "If I were out of prison" — ah! the leap That Arthur's heart gave with its yearning strong — "If I were out of prison and kept sheep, I should be merry as the day is long." O little prince, whose feet were strange to grass. Whose royal hands no dandelions knew, Whose wistful child-eyes saw no seasons pass, Within the city walls I think of you; For here on pavements hot to work I creep, Walls, roofs and chimneys at my window throng; Ah, were I out of prison and kept sheep, I should be merry as the day is long! IN AUGUST Now when the grove is stifled to the core, And all the parchtd grass is summer-killed, I think of vehement March, and how she tilled These arid roadsides with a murmurous pour Of rushing streiiis from an exhaustless store. This breathl-ss air to tropic slumber stilled, Recalls those early passionate winds that thrilled The spirit, blending with the water's roar. Just as in rich and dusty-leaved age The soul goes back to brood on swelling buds Of hope, desire, and dream, in childhood's clime, So I turn backward to the spring-lit page. And hear with freshening heart the deep-voiced floods. That to the winds give their melodious rhyme. ?6 THE BUDDING CHILD Here are the budding boughs again, But where the budding child," That from green slopes to greener shores Last April was beguiled? Here is the hurrying stream again. But where the hurrying feet That vanished with the ebbing wave Last year when spring was sweet? Into my life the springtime came, Soft-aired and thickly starred; Out of my life the springtime went. Though I prayed hard— prayed hard. O little life, with all thy buds Close-folded— laid in death; Would they had oped in bloom and fruit About thy mother's path ! Or would that Faith might build more strong The bridge between my heart And thy fair dwelling-place, so thou And spring should not depart. 27 SEPARATION He went upon a journey, And she was left at home; And yet 'twas he who stayed behind, And she that far did roam. For though he went by mountain And wood and stream and sea, A little cot enwrapt in green He saw perpetually. And she within the green leaves, Not knowing that he stood Forever by her, dreamed her way With him by mount and wood. Now heaven help these lovers. And bring her safely home. Or lead him back along the track Where shi;, e'en now, doth roam. 38 EARTH'S SILENCES "tI''?V° ''"J'' ^y ''""f"' "oi^" scarred 1 he sfllness of the manyleavid trees, The quiet of green hills, the m.llion-starred rranquihty of night, the endless seas Of silence m deep wilds, where nature broods In large, serene, uninterrupted moods. °'pint'hi° ''°'^ ""' °''^"'^' work-bring forth P.nk bloom, green bud, red fruit and yellow leaf As no.seessly as gold proclaims its wonh, ' O plend.d sun goes down the glowing wes , Still as forgotten memories in the breast. How without panting effort, painful word, Comes the enchanting miracle of snow, Mak ng a sleeping ocean. None have heard For unto every heart, all hot and wild, It seems to say, "Oh, hush thee, hush, my child " 29 THECHICKADEK Stout-hearted bird, When thy blithe note I heard From out the wind-warped tree — Chick-a-deedee — There came to me A sense of triumph, an exultant breath Blown in the face of death. For what are harsh and bitter circumstances When the heart dances, And pipes to rattling branch and icy lea Chick-a-dee-dee! Sing loud, sing loud. Against that leaden cloud, That draggeth drearily, Chickadee-dee. Pour out thy free Uetiance to the sharpest winds that blow And still increasinjt snow. By courage, faith, and joy art thou attended. And most befriended By thine own heart, that bubbleth cheerily, Chick-a-dee-dee! 3° I'HK INDIGO BIRD When I see, High on the tiptop twig of a tree Something blue by the breezes stirred But so far up that the blue is blurred ' 30 far up no green leaf flies Twixt its blue and the blue of the skies I hen I know, ere a note be heard, That IS naught but the Indigo bird. Blue on the branch and blue in the sky And naught between but the breezes high And naught so blue by the breezes stirred' As the deep, deep blue of the Indigo bird. Wlien I hear A song like a bird laugh, blithe and clear, As though of some airy jest he had heard Ihe last and the most delightful word, A laugh as fresh in the August haze As It was in the full-voiced April days, Ihen I know that my heart is stirred ay the laugh-like song of the Indigo bird. Joy in the branch and joy in the sky. And naught between but the breezes high' And naught so glad on the breezes heard ' As the gay, gay note of the Indigo bird. THE FISHERMAN '^ Hu'i""'* '"" " ''"d 'o read Hi. K Tl ""***? »nd still ' nis boots have rm.k.j Oh early lifted he the latch B„^"'i"l^d through dew away '^''f «„'''"''?* an open mind, A medit-itive heart; In. ,■„,„„„„, Th,;|,Jow Ml ,,,, Heard him but sieh "H«,., < • '. %,, . ""' j"gn, 'How fair It si That Th '^ ^^" ="" ^ Shoul/fl'""^' 1'"" harmonies S>hould flood the ear and eye'" '^cauri'T^"'""'^ he Smiles: J wught the best of hours and miles." 32 THK I.irri.K N(Kh\ My life th.-i; iiuci from cl.irl. to dark, I'roni leapirj,' li„'ht Ui loHxriii^' li^lit, .'.Uist have its little noond.iy s|i.-irk Oi hcit and flAine beinrc'tlic iii^ht. My little noon! Mow strori-' it seems, Hov,' dazzlin;; fair and deep its tide, Aivi yet a niillioii mil' ion .'earns < >f day have btirned before and died. Long, lon^ .a^'o— a thousand years — Was Tear all white and Ka'-e all red? Iii.I I.ove meet Love with shinin^,- tears I'hat eased the stress of word* unsaid? Two thousand years a^'o did Ho;ie Fly outward with tumultuous breast? \o:\th wake at ni-ht to sini;? A„e [.-rr t- 1 iirov.jh gathering daikness to liis I^.^t? 1 ack in tl;e a^es past was sweet As sweet as now? Did bi-.tevness Mavor the very drink and meat? l>id Rapture wear her April dress? Did strong men give their hands tu mtn, Their hearts to women? Did the wife Joy in her budding; secret then? b;>! children throng the (I .>■:.• o': life? Ah, these had all their little nouns, ^■et cradled in the earth they lie, Av.d still beside them Ocean croons Her iniinemoria! liillabv. My little noon! How pale it seems! Weak as a wave, faint as a sigh: It looks the very stuff of dreams, Seen in the light of noons gone by. THE LONG DAYS OF THE YEAR The long days of the year Hnw «veet they are to the ear! Theha?pywfblgin them before I awake from And3rly they are ended by the voices of the Coming'ho-e in the twilight. Oh, happy child Kouse^bVa'bird in the morning and lulled at night by a lamb. The long days of the year. How fair to the eye and dear! , The grass is thick in the meadows, the branches And gln/tt rJ":- running up to the cottage Steejng^he porch in perfume. Oh, loving child Whef°tSk an^d rosy and fragrant my joys are coming to me. 34 STARS AND ri.OWERS The stars enchar i the upper ;,k es, The flowers ch .iii ihe feet; They look into e<.rh c. ther s eyes, And flame and fragrance meet. So will it be when Death unbars These slender doors of ours, And turns our spirits into stars. Our bodies into flowers. AT DUSK The phantom time of day is here. Some spirit from diviner air Unto our blindness draweth near. And in our musing seems to share. Who hath not in a darkening wood. At twilight's moment, dimly known That all his hurts were understood By some near presence not his own; That all his griefs were comforted. His aspirations given release; And that upon his troubled head Was laid the viewless hand of Peace. Too sure for doubt, too sweet for fear, Unfelt in days of toil and stress; But when the twilight brings it near Who hath not felt its tenderness? 35 VESrF.RUAV AM) TO-DAY Hove met Youth in the churchyatd old, Under a branch of hawthorn blossom; Love gave Youth a fiower to hold Freshly grown from a dead girl's bosom Y'outh sang Love a heart-warm rhyriie, \Vri; by an ancestor tiirned to ashes; And all the song was of blossom time And the spting-soft liglit 'neatli a maiden': lashes. A\ OLD IXFLUKNCK A child, I saw familiar things In sweet imagined guise; For me the clouds were .^.igels' wings, The stars were angels' eyes. Not so to-day: the grassless ways Of older years invite No wings to whiten common days, No eyes to hallow r.i;h;. Yet when with grief my he.irt is loud, Or harsh thoughts leave their scar, I feel reproach from every cloud, lleproof from every star. IF ON'K NJUiHT LIVK If one might live ten years amoiii; the leu-es, 1 en— only ten— of all a life's fon'^ dav, Who would not choose a childhood 'neath ; eaves, Low-sloping to some slender footpath wav? With the young grass about his childish feet, And the young lambs within his ungrown n •' And every streamlet side a pleasure seat Within the wide day's treasure-house of char;; To learn to speak while voung birds learnec; sing. To learn to run e'en as thev learned to fly W ith unworn heart against the breast of spri'n ■■■, To watch the moments smile as they went by'. Knroofed with apple buds afar to roam, Or clover cradled on the murmurous sod lo drowse within the blessed rields of home, So near to earth— so very near to Cod. How could it matter— all the after strife, The heat, the haste, the inward hurt, the strair Hhen the young loveliness and sweet of life Came flood-like back again and yet again? When best begins it liveth through the worst- C) happy soul, beloved of Memorv, Whose youth was joined to beautv.'as at first, I'he morning stars were wed to' harmony. ' 37 THE ROADS OF OLD The roads of old, how {air they gleamed; Kow long each winding way was deemed. In days gone by, how wondrous high Their little hills and houses seemed. The morning road, that led to school. Was framed in dew that clung as cool To childish feet as waves that beat -About the sunbeams in a pool; The river road, that crept beside The dreamy alder-bordered tide. Where tish at play on Saturday Left some young hopes ungratified; The valley road, that wandered through Twin vales and heard no wind that blew; The cowbell's clank from either bank Was all the sound it ever knew; The woodland road, whose windings dim Were known to watchers straight and slim; How slow it moved, as if it loved Each listening leaf and arching limb; The market road, that felt the charm Of lights on many a sleepy farm, Whf n whirring clocks and crowing cocks Gave forth the market man's alarm; The village road, that used to drop Its daisies at the blacksmith shop, And leave som trace of rustic grace To tempt the busiest eye to stop; 38 These all renew their olden spell. With rocky cliff and sunny dell, With purling brook and grassy nook, They bordered childhood's country well. And we who near them used to dwell, <-an but the same sweet story tell ThT'' K °!? ^^V" "'^"^ glid-eyed Content; They bordered childhood's country well. y THE SILENT SNOW To-day the earth has not a word to speak. The snow comes down as softly through the air As pitying heaven to a martyr's prayeT, Th7f. f P"^ T'" '° "" bloodless cheek! The footsteps of the snow, as white and meek As angel travelers, are everywhere— And on the wmd's trail o'er the moorland bleak. '^^P' ['^^^ "'^ ™SS^<^ '•oad as tenderly As April venturing her first caress- fhey drown the old earth's furrowed griefs and scars ° Within the white foam of a soundless sea, And bring a deeper depth of quietness io graves asleep beneath the silent stars 39 NOVF.MUKR The old year's withered face is here a^^''"' The twilight look, the look of reverie, The backward gazing eyes that seem to see The full-leaved robin-haunted June remain Through devastating wind and ruinous rain; A form ti.at moves a little wearily, As one who treads the path of memory Beneath a long year's load of stress and stain. Good-night! good-night! the dews are thick and damp, Yet still she babbles on, as loath to go. Of apple buds and blooms that used to be, Til! Indian Summer brings the bedside lamp. And underneath a covering of snov^ She dreams again of April ecstasy. UNHE.\RD NIAGARAS We live among unheard Niagaras. The force that pushes up the meadow grass. That swells to ampler roundness ripening fruit. That lifts the brier ruse, were it not mute. Would thunder o'er the green earth's sunlit tracts More loudly than a myriad cataracts. -aid t, •acts, si'Nc; De.xJ ler.vcs in the bird's nt-M, Aiul after that the snow; That WAS wlitre the bird's brc,-.-,t rendcily did j;o, 'Aliere the tiny birds pressed Lovinj;]y — and lo! Dead leaves in the bird's ne,: Under failing snosv. Uead leaves in the heart's ne-t, And after that the snow; 'I'hat was where the heart's ;;.:e-t IJrooded months ago. Where the tender thoughts prt~-ed I.ovinjjly — and lol Head Ie;vcs in the heart's nest I'nder faiiin' sno-.v. WINTKR SUN'SET The eyes like the lips have their choice of wints, And one that tingles and cheers they know; A sky that burns through a bar of pines On a v.intry world of snow. Ah, what are the empty eglantines, And what the desolate earth below, When the sky is ablaze, and aflame the pines, And rosilv glennis the snow? THE DESERTED HOUSE With sagging door and staring window-place, And sunken roof, it stands among its trees. Befriended by the boughs that interlace Between it and the light ghost-footed breeze. Poor human nest, how desolately torn! Yet in these ragged rooms voung children slept. And on this floor, all broken and forlorn. The baby with the sunshine daily crept. See where some older "Ruth" and "Archie" stood, And marked their names a yard space from the ground. That little height where all of sweet and good Within the narrow plot of home is found. Such tiny sleeping rooms, with space for naught Except a place to dress, a place to dream, A book, a little shelf, a good night thought, A childish treasure brought from field or stream. Upon this curbstone, picking bit by bit The grass that grew before the cottage door. The blessed baby sat, examining it As one who ne'er had seen its like before. Here by the window in her willow chair. The mother sewed and sang a low refrain. Are those the patches from her piece-bag there .' Nay, they are leaves that blew in with the rain' 42 I laught I Th J leaves blow in, the moss is on the roof The squirrels bring their treasures from the boughs, The storm comes, and with dull unhastening hoof. Into this partial shelter stray the cows. Ah, come away! Some woman's youth lies heie, Some man's fair childhood, dead but wondrous sweet, ^°T}lu'^ "•'' '^°^ ''^^ sheltered holds it dear, And fills It with old loves and joys complete. What right have we to pry or speculate' The sun goes down, the twilight, like a pall, tncloseth ruined house and porch and gate And tender darkness broodeth over all. 43 NOVKMUI'.R AND DECKMliER November .inil December, and ajain November and December as before; Dead season on dead season, o'er .-^nd o'er. Till leariessness becomes most leafless. Then Naught for the lips, except the sad Amen, Naught for the eyes, except the darkened door. And for this pleasant House of Leaves no mi.;>- The summer breezes with theit light refrain. November and December — ah, I hear Like unto heavy, sobbing winds, the old Novembers and Decembers mourn aloud. No red leaf li^fhts the darkness of the year, lint only tire that grips the heart of cold. At 1 itars that burn behind a world of cloud. A WINTER I'ICTUKE Ail air as sharp as steel, a sky Pierced with a million points of fire; The level fields, haid, white and dry, A road as straight and tense as wire. No hint of human voice or face In frost below or tire above. Save where the smoke's blue billoA-ing grace I'lies ti.i:;Iikc from the roofs of love. 44 o er, Then n, ned doi 3 no mi.: ain. Did iloud. ar, lid, I of clone THK I'ASsINu VKAK Ih;.' feast is over, tb.e quests are tkd; It is time to be ok!, it is time for I)ed. Tlie wind has blown out every li^jht. And the pleasure garden is turned t) llixl't. The trees like pulTed-out candles stand, And the smoke of tlieir darkness is ovur the l.i- Heavily hand's the drowsy held. Heavily drooj) the laslies: To bedl to bed: Let prayers be slid And cover the tire with asiits. How the pipers piped, and the dancers He\, I'lieir hearts were pipin„' and dancin;;. too. W ine of the sun and sp-el! of tlie stream, liids in an ecstasy, dowers thai teem, (\11 jione by; now the quiet sky 1 ooksdownon the earth where tl'.i srow n.;i~: iii-. Heavily hanj;s t'lc drowsv l.L-ad, Heavily droop the la^';i..>; To bed! to bed! Let •/■ravi-r,-- be s'.ld And cover the Ore v.i;ii ashe^. ■15