IMAGE EVALUATION TEST TARGET (MT-3) '' 1.0 I.I 3.6 i 11° IIM 2.2 2.0 i.d 1.25 1.4 1.6 M 6" — ► ^ SS*.. # W /2 -^^^ / # '/ -(S« Hiotographic Sdences Corporation 23 WEST MAIN STREET WEBSTER, N.Y. 14580 (716) 872-4503 CIHM/ICMH Microfiche Series. CIHM/ICMH Collection de microfiches. Canadian Institute for Historical Microreproductions Institut Canadian de microreproductions historiques 1980 Technical and Bibliographic Notes/Notes techniques et bibliographiques The Institute has attempted to obtain the best original copy available for 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. L'Institut a microfilm^ le meilleur exemplaire qu'il lui a 6X6 possible de se procurer. Les details de cet exemplaire qui sont peut-dtre uniques du point de vue bibliographique, qui peuvent modifier une image reproduite, ou qui peuvent exiger une modification dans la mdthode normale de filmage sont indiquds ci-dessous. D D Coloured covers/ Couverture de couleur I I Covers damaged/ Couverture endommag^e Covers restored and/or laminated/ Couverture restaurde et/ou pelliculde □ Coloured pages/ Pages de couleur Pages damaged/ Pages endommag^es Pages restored and/or laminated/ Pages restaur6es et/ou pellicul6es □ Cover title missing/ Le titre de couverture manque □ Coloured maps/ Cartes g^ographiques en couleur y D Pages discoloured, stained or foxed/ Pages ddcolor^es, tachetdes ou piqu6es Pages detached/ Pages d^tach^es n n n Coloured ink (i.e. other than blue or black)/ Encre de couleur (i.e. autre que bleue ou noire) I I Coloured plates and/or illustrations/ Planches et/ou illustrations en couleur Bound with other material/ Reli6 avec d'autres documents Tight binding may cause shadows or distortion along interior margin/ La reliure serree peut causer de I'ombre ou de la distortion le long de la marge intdrieure Blank leaves added during restoration may appear within the text. Whenever possible, these have been omitted from filming/ II se peut que certaines pages blanches ajoutdes lors d'une restauration apparaissent dans le texte, mais, lorsque cela 6tait possible, ces pages n'ont pas 6t6 filmdes. V D D Showthrough/ Transparence I I Quality of print varies/ Qualiti^ in6gale de I'impression Includes supplementary material/ Comprend du materiel suppiementaire Only edition available/ Seule Edition disponible Pages wholly or partially obscured by errata slips, tissues, etc., have been refilmed to ensure the best possible image/ Les pages totalement ou partiellement obscurcies par un feuillet d'errata, une pelure, etc., ont 6t^ film^es d nouveau de fa^on d obtenir la meilleure image possible. D Additional comments:/ Commentaires suppl6mentaires; This item is filmed at the reduction ratio checked below/ Ce document est filmd au taux de reduction indiqud ci-dessous. 10X 14X 18X 22X 26X 30X y 12X 16X 20X 24X 28X 32X tails du odifier une mage The copy filmed here has been reproduced thanks to the generosity of: National Library of Canada The images appearing here are the best quality possible considering the condition and legibility of the original copy and in keeping with the filming contract specifications. Original copies in printed paper covers are filmed beginning with the front cover and ending on the last page with a printed or illustrated impres- sion, or the back cover when appropriate. All other original copies are filmed beginning on the first page with a printed or illustrated impres- sion, and ending on the last page with a printed or illustrated impression. L'exemplaire film6 fut reproduit grSce d ia g6n6rosit6 de: Bibliothdque nationale du Canada Les images suivantes ont 6t6 reproduites avec le plus grand soin, compte tenu de la condition et de la nettetd de l'exemplaire film6, et en conformit6 avec les conditions du contrat de filmage. Les exemplaires originaux dont la couverture en papier est imprimde sont filmds en commen^ant par le premier plat et en terminant soit par la dernidre page qui comporte une empreinte d'impression ou d'illustration, soit par le second plat, selon le cas. Tous les autres exemplaires originaux sont filmds en commengant par la premidre page qui comporte une empreinte d'impression ou d'illustration et en terminant par la dernidre page qui comporte une telle empreinte. The last recorded frame on each microfiche shall contain the symbol -^(meaning "CON- TINUED"), or the symbol V (meaning "END"), whichever applies. Un des symboles suivants apparattra sur la dernidre image de cheque microfiche, selon le cas: le symbole — ^ signifie "A SUIVRE", le symbole V signifie "FIN". Maps, plates, charts, etc., may be filmed at different reduction ratios. Those too large to be entirely included in one exposure are filmed beginning in the upper left hand corner, left to right and top to bottom, as many frames as required. The following diagrams illustrate the method: Les cartes, planches, tableaux, etc., peuvent dtre filmds d des taux de reduction diffdrents. Lorsque le document est trop grand pour dtre reproduit en un seul clichd, il est filmd d partir de Tangle supdrieur gauche, de gauche d droite, et de haut en bas, en prenant le nombre d'images ndcessaire. Les diagrammes suivants illustrent la mdthode. Trata to pelure, nd n 32X 1 2 3 1 2 3 4 5 6 I TIJ THE COMING OF THE PRINCESS. '^; / uii TRK OMLW OF THE PRINCESS; AND OTHER POEMS. EY KATE SEYMOUR MACLEAN, K I XCSTt )X, O.VTAUIO. X^ INTIiODUCTIOX, BY THE EDITOR OF "THE CANADIAN MONTHLY." V. HUNTER, ROSE & COMPANY. MDCCCLXXXr. Entered according to Act of rarliamont of Canada, in tlie yoar one tliousand eight hundred and eighty-one, by Hunter Husk & Co., in the office of the Minister of Agriculture. INTKODUCTlOiX. BY G. MERCER ADAM. The request of the author that I should write a few words of preface to this collection of poems must he my excuse for obtruding myself upon the reader. Havmg frequently had the pleasure, as editor of The Canadian Monthly, of introducing many of Mrs. Mac- Lean's poems to lovers of verse in the Dominion, it was thought not unfitting that I should act as foster-father to the collection of them here made, and to bespeak for the volume, at the hands at least of all Canadians, the appreciative and kindly reception due to a " Child of the first winds and suns of a nation." Accepting the task assigned to me, the more readily as 1 discern the high and sustained excellence of the collec- tion as a whole, let me ask that the volume be re- ceived with interest, as a further and most meritorious contribution to the poetical hterature of our young country (the east that can be said of the work), and with sympathy lor the intellectual and moral aspirations that have called it into beinor. Iv INTIIODUCTIOX. There is truth, douhtloss, in the remark, that we arc enriched less by what wc have tlian ])y wliat we hope to have. As the poetic art in Canada has liad little of an appreciable past, it may therefore be thought that the songs that are to catch and retain the ear of the nation lie still in the future, and are as yet unsung. Doubtless the chords have yet to be struck that are to give to Can- ada the songs of her loftiest genius ; but he would be an ill friend of the country's literature who would slight the achievements of the present in reaching solely after what, it is hoped, the coming time will bring. But whatever of lyrical treasure the future may enshrine in Canadian literature, and however deserving may be the claims of the volumes of verse that have already appeared from the native press, I am bold to claim for these productions of Mrs. MacLean's muse a high place in the national collection and a warm corner in the national heart. To discern the merit of a poem is proverbially easier than to say how and in what manner it is manifested. In a collection the task of appraisement is not so difficult. Lord Houghton has said : " There is in truth no critic of poetry but the man who enjoys it, and the amount of gratification felt is the only just measure of criticism." By this test the present volume will, in the main, be judged • Still, there are characteristics of the author's work which I may be permitted to point out. In Mrs. MacLean's INTRODUCTION. hat we are we hope to ittle of an it that tlie the nation Doubtless ve to Can- ould be an sh'ght the ifter what, y enshrine g may be e already claim for h place in e national lly easier sted. In difficult. critic of imount of iriticism." main, be or's work lacLean's volume what quickly strikes one is not only the fact that Lhe poems are all of a high order of nicrit, but that a large measure of art and instinct enters into the compo- sition of each of them. As readily will it be recognized that they are the product of a cultivated intellect, a bright Fancy, and a feeling heart. A lich spiritual life breathes throughout the work, and thei'o are occasional manifesta- tions of fervid impulse and ardent feeling. Yet there is Ino straining of expression in the poems, nor is there any [loose fluency of t'jught. Throughout there is sustained lelevation and lofty purpose. ]fer least work, moreover, is worthy of her, because it is always honest work. With [a quiet simplicity of style, there is at the same time a fine command of language and an earnest beauty of thought. The grace and melody of the versification, indeed, few readers will fail to appreciate. Occasionally there are echoes of other poets — Jean Ingelow and Mrs. Barrett Browning, in the more subjective pieces, being oftenest suggested. But there is a voice as well as an echo — the voice of a poet in her own right. In an age so bustling and heedless as this, it were well sometimes to stop and listen to the voice. In its fine .spiritualizations we shall at least be soothed and maj' be bettered. But I need not dwell on the vocation of poetiy or on the excellence of the poems here introduced. The one is well known to the reader : the other may soon be. Happily there is promise that Canada will ere long be VI IXTRODUCTIOX. rich in her poets. They stand in the van^^nard of i country's benefactors, and so should be cherished an()| encouranrod. Of late our serial literature has given u4 more than blossomings. The present volume enshrine!>i some of the maturer fruit. May it bo its mission to, nourish the poetic sentiment among us. May it do more — nourish in some degree the heart of the nation, and, in the range of its influence, that of humanity Canadian Monthly Offick, Toronto, December, jySO. / •. ,• COiXTENTS. IxTiionircTiox .... Envoi - _ . j The Coining of tho Princess IJird Sonjr - |AnItIjlof the May .... JThe Burial of the Scout JQiicstiouings - . . _ |Pansie3 - . . _ [November Meteors Pictures in the Fire - . . , A ]\ra(irigal - . . j The Ploughboy - I The Voice of Many Waters - The Death of Autumn A Farewell The News-Boy's Dream of the New' Ye J- The Old Church on the Hill - The urning of Chica,;a> TJio Legend of the New Year By the Sea Shore at Night Resurgam - . . . Written in a Cemetery Marguerite .... The Watch-Light New Year, 18G8 - I'AOE. iii xi 1 7 - U • 10 19 • 22 26 28 30 32 34 37 40 43 45 48 r>3 50 58 CO 02 64 viii CONTENTS. PAOE. Thanksgiving ^^ Miserere - - 68 Beyond .---.----- <0 The Sabbath of the Woods ------- 73 A Valentine < 6 ►Snow-Drops 78 Easter BeUs 82 In the Sierra Nevada --84 Summer Rain 80 A Baby's Death 88 Christmas --•• 90 My Garden - - - - 92 Eiver Song ----------94 The Return 90 Voices of Hope -- r9 In the Country 102 Science, the Iconoclast -.----. i04 What the Owl said to me 108 Our Volunteers 109 Night : A Phantasy Ill A Monody - - - 113 Minnie II5 The Golden Wedding 118 Verses Written in Mary's Album 121 The Woods in June 123 The Isle of Sleep -- 120 The Battle Autumn of 1802 13() In War Time I34. Christmas Hymn -- I31J' Te Deum Laudamus -----.._ jgg A November Wood Walk - _ 14^ Resignation ------._.. 143 I ) CONTENTS. Euthanasia ------ Ballad of the Mad Ladye - - - . The Coming of the King - - - - With a Bunch of Spring Fhnvois The Higher Law May Two Windows The Meeting of Spirits George Brown ------ Forgotten Songs To the Daughter of the Author of " Viidot Kc A Prelude, and a Bird's Song - - - It. I IX PAGE. 144 147 150 155 157 158 159 IGl 105 109 170 172 A little hird woke suifjlng In the night, Dreamhig of coming day, And piped, for very fulness of delight. His little roundelay. Dreaming he heard the luood-lark's carol loud, Doiun calling to his mate, Like silver rain out of a golden cloud. At morning's radiant gate. And all for joy of his emhoivering ivoods, And deivy leaves he sung, — Tlie summer sunshine, and the summer floods By forest floicers o'erhung. Thou shall not hear those wild and sylvan notes When morn's full chorus pours Rejoicing from a thousand feathered throats, And the lark sings and soars, Oh poet of our glorious land so fair. Whose foot is at the door : Even so my song shall melt into the air. And die and he no more. But thou shall live, part of the nations life ; TIlc world shall hear thy voice tiinging above the noise of war and strife. And therefore I rejoice ! rr — ■ THE COMING OF THE PRINCESS. X freak dull November skies, and make sunshine over wood and lake ; lud fill your cells of frosty air ptli thousand, thousand welcomes to the Princely pair! 10 land and the sea are alight for them ; [he wrinkled face of old Winter is bright for them ; [lie honour and pride of a race ^cure in their dwelling place, jteadfast and stern as the rocks that guard her, [lemble and thrill and leap in their veins, Is the blood of one man throuo^h the beacon-lit bordf>r ! like a fire, like a flame, [t the sound of her name, IS the smoky-throated cannon mutter it, IS the smiling lips of a nation utter it, Liul a hundred rock-lights write it in fire ! )aughter of Empires, the Lady of Lome, Jack through the mists qf dim centuries borne, lone nobler, none gentler that brave name have worn; fhrilled l)y storm-bugles, and rolled by the seas, Louise ! >ur Princess, our Empress, our Lady of Lome 1 2 THE COMING OF THE PRINCESS. II And the wild, white horses with flying manes Wind-tost, the riderless steeds of the sea, Neigh to her, call to her, dreadless and free, " Fear not to follow us ; these thy domains ; Welcome, welcome, our Lady and Queen ! Princess, oh daughter of kingliest sire ! Under its frost girdle throbbing and keen, A new realm awaits thee, loyal and true !" And the round-cheeked Tritons, with fillets of blue Binding their sea-green and scintillant hair, Blow thee a welcome ; their brawny arms bear Thy keel through the waves like a bird through the III. SI lore ward the shoal of mighty shoulders lean Through the long swell of waves, Keaching beyond the sunset and the hollow caves, And the ice-girdled peaks that hold serene Each its own star, far out at sea to mark Thy westward way, O Princess, through the dark. The rose-red sunset dies into the dusk, The silver dusk of the long twilight hour, And opal lights come out, and liery gleams Of flame-red beacons, like the ash-gray husk Torn from some tropic blossom bursting into flower, Making the sea bloom red with ruddy beams. ai! M m CESS. THE COMING OF TftK PlilNCESS. IV. manes ;a, free, ains; jn! •e! en, e!" llets of blue hair, ms bear through the s lean ow caves, ne ail ill m-ju-er and nearer it comes, the swift sharp pKAV the ship above, and the shndow-ship below, lith the mighty arms of the Tritons under, [l bowed one way like a field of wind-blown ears ; \\l nearer and nearer, and now [touches the strand, and, lo, ith the lensfth of her briixht hair backward fiowini' found her head like an aureole, ke a candle tiame in the wind's breath blowinir, mds she fair and still as a disembodied soul, ith hands outstretched, and eyes that shine through tears id tremulous smiles. lun the trumpets, and the guns, and the great drums roll lid the long fiords and the forelands shake with the i thunder the shout of welcome to the dau2:hter of the Isles ! the dark. as usk nto flower, ims. [ling her, people, on the shoulders of her vassals Ihroned like a queen to her palace on the height, Ip the rocky steeps where the fir-tree tassels od to her, and touch her with a subtle, vague delight, like a whisper of home, like a greeting and a smile ' roni the fir-tree walks and gardens, the wood-embowered castles jiiij '. I 4 TBE COMING OF THE PRINCESS. In the north among the clansmen of Argyle. Now the sullen plunge of waves for many a mile Along the roaring Ottawa is heard, And the cry of some wood bird, Wild and sudden and sweet. Scared from its perch by the rush and trample of feet, And the red glare of the torches in the night. And now the long facade gay with many a twinkling light Roaches hands of welcome, and the bells peal, and the guns, And the hoarse blare of the trumpets, and the throbbing of the drums Fill the air like shaken music, and the very waves rejoice In the gladness, and the greeting, and the triumph of their voice. VI. Under triumphal arches, blazoned with banners and .scrolls, And the sound of a People's exulting, still gathering as it rolls, Enter the gates of the city, and take the waiting throne. And make the heart of a Nation, Royal Pair, your own. Sons of the old race, vre, and heirs of the old and the new^ ; Our hands are bold and strong, and our hearts are faith- ful and true ; THE COMING OF THE PIIINCESS. 6 Saxon and Norman anil (Vlt, one race of the niinylevl blood AVlio fought, built cities and sliips, and stenun'd the un- known flood In the grand historic days that made our England great, When Britain's sons were steadfast to meet or to conquer fate. Our sires were the minster buildei-s, who wrought, them- selves unknown, The thought divine within them, till it IJossomed into stone ; iFoigers of swords and of ploughsl.'ares, reapers of men and of grain, 'heir bones and their names forgotten on many a battle jilaixi ; 'or faith and love and loyalty were living and sacred things, ^Vlicn our sires were those who wrought, and yours were tlio leadejs and kind's. ;s are faitli- VII. ''(J]', since the deeds that live in Ai'thur's rhyme, iVho left the stainless flower of knighthood for all tinjo, bown to our Blameless Prince, wise, gentle, just, Vhom the world mourns, not by your English dust [ore precious held, more sacredly enshrined, than in each loyal breast of all mankind, t!l M 'I (- . THE COMINO OF THE VUINCESS. Meu bare the head in hoina«re to tlic frood, Aiul slie wlu) wears the crown of wonwinhood, August, not less tlian that of Empress, reigns Tlie erowned V'ictoria of the world's (h)niains I North, South, East, West, O Princess fair, behold In this new world, the daughter of the old, Wliere ribs of iron bar the Atlantic's breast, Where sunset mountains slope into the west, Unfathomed wildei'nesscs, valleys sweet, And tawny stubble lands of corn and wheat, And all the hills and lakes and forests dun, Between the rising and the setting sun ; Where rolling rivers run with sands of gold. And the locked treasures of the mine unfold TTndreamed of riches, and the hearts of men, Held close to nature, have grown pure again. Like that exalted Pair, beloved, revered, By princely grace, and truth and love endeared. Here lix your empire in the growing West, And build your throne in each Canadian breast. Till West and East strike hands across the main, Knit by a stronger, more enduring chain, And our vast Empire become one again. BIRD SONO. BIRD SONO. Art thou not sweet, Oh world, and glad to the inmost heart of thee ! All creatures rejoice With one rapturous voice. As T, with the passionate beat Of my over-full heart feel thee sweet, And all things that live, and arc part of thee ! Light, light as a cloud Swimming, and trailing its shadow under m*^ I float in the deep As a bird-dream in sleep, And hear the wind murmuring loud. Far down, where the tree-tops are bowed, — And I see where the secret place of the thunders be Oh ! the sky free and wide, With all the cloud-banners flung out in it Its sin''ini; wind blows As a grand river flows, A id I swim down its rythmical tide, And still the horizon spreads wide, With the birds' and the poets' songs like a shout in it ! fll I lilllD aONO. Oil lift', thou art sweet ! Sweet — swoet to the inmost heart of thoo 1 ] chink with my eyes Thy Hmitk'ss skies, And I feel with the rapturous beat Of my wings thou art sweet, — And I, — I am alive, and a part of thee I I : I AN IDYL OF THE MAY. AN IDYL OF TIIK AfAY. In the beautiful May weather, Lapsing soon into June ; On a golden, g(jlden day Of the green and goklen May, When our liearts were beating tuna To the coming feet of June, Walked we in the woods together. Silver fine Gleamed the ayh buds through the darkness of the pine. And the waters of the stream Glance and glwim, Like a silver-footed drctini — Beckoning, calling, Flashing, fallinL--, Into shadows dun and bi-own Slipping down. Calling still— Oh hear ! Oh follow I Follow- -ioUow I ) i 10 ^xV IDYL OF THE MA Y. Down through glen and ferny hollow, Lit with patches of the sky, Sliininff throiicjh the trees so hioh. Hand in hand we went together. In the golden, golden weather Of the May ; While the fleet wing of the swallow Flashin,*:^ by, called — follow — follow ! And we followed through the day: Speaking low — Speaking often not at all To the brooklet's crystal call, With our linf^erinG: f<^et and slow — ■ Slow, and pausing here and there For a flower, or a fern, For the lovely maiden-hair ; Hearing voices in the air, Calling faintly down the burn. Still the streamlet slid away, Singing, smiling, dimpling down To a mossy nook and brown. Under bending boughs of May ; Where the nodding wind-flower grows, And the coolwort's lovely pink, Brooding o'er the brooklet's brink Dips and blushes like a rose. AN IDYL VF THE MA Y. And the faint smell of the moul.l. Sweeter than the musky scent Of the garden's manifold Perfumes into perfect blent. Light.'] and sounds and odours stolo, In the golden, golden weather— lleart and thought, and life and soul, Stole away, In that merry, merry May, Wandering down the burn together. Ah Valentine— my Valentine ! Heard I, with my hand in thine, Grave and low, and sweet and slow, As the wood bird over head, Brooding notes, half sung half said,— " In the world so bleak and wide, Hearts make Edens of their own ; Wilt thou linger by my side, — Wilt thou live for me alone, Making bright the winter weather, Thou and I and love together ? " "Yea." I said, " for thee alone,"-^ Shading eyes lest they confess Too much their own happiness, With the happy tears o'erflown. 11 12 I I 111 AN IDYL OF 2 HE MAY. Gravely thou — " The wo Id is nob Like this ferny hollow : — Tlirouoh a rougher, thornier lot Wilt thou bravely follow ? " Still the brook, with softer flow, Called, "Oh hear! Oh follow l" " Aye," I said, with bated breath, *' Where thou f^oest, I will go ; Holding still thy stronger hand, Through the dreariest desert land, True, till death." Silence fell between ns two, Noiseless as the silver dew ; Hearts that had no need of speech In the silence spoke to each ; And along the sapphire blue, Shot with shafts of sunset through. Fell a voice, a bodiless breath — " True, till death." Through a mist of smiles and tears, Doubts and fears, and toils and di'cams, Oh ! how loner a^ro it seems, Looking back across the year Silve*' threads are in my ha' I ' AA'^ IDYL OF THE MA Y. And the suaset shadows slope Back along the hills of hope That before us shone so fair. Ah ! for us the merry May- Comes no more with golden weather; Fields, and woods, aud sunshine ga}'. Purple skies, and purple heather. We have had our holy day. And I sit with folded hands, In the twilight looking hack Over life's uneven track — Thorny wilds, and desert sands. AVeary heart, unwearied faitli, In the twilight softly saith— " We have had our golden weather. We liave walked through life together. True, till death!" 13 ■ li THK HUillAL OF THE SCOUT. THE BURIAL OF THE SCOUT. not with arms reversed, And the slow beating of tlie muffled drum, And funeral marches, bring our hero home I These stormy woods where his young heart was nurseu Ring with a trumpet burst Of jubilant music, as if he who lies With slirouded face, and lips all white and dumb Were a crowned conqueror entering paradise, — This is his welcome home ! Along the reedy marge of the dim lake, I hear the gathering horromen of the North ; The cavalry of night and tempest wake, — Blowing keen bugles as they issue forth. To guard his liomeward march in frost and cold, A thousand spearmen bold ! And the deep-bosomed w^oods, With their dishevelled locks all wildly spread. Stretch ghostly arms to clasp the immortal dead, Back to their solitudes : While through their rocking branches overhead, And all their shuddering pulses underground g T. THE BURIAL OF THE SCOUT. 15 ;ouT. ed dnini, *ro home ! art was iiurscMi ^hite and duiult, -Use, — the North ; ■orth, cold, [shiver runs, as if a voice had said — And every farthest leaf had felt the wound — He comes — but he is dead ! The dainty-fingered May ith gentle hand shall fold and put away The snow-white curtains of his winter tent, id spread above him her green coverlet, 'Broidered w'ith daisies, sweet to sight and scent nd Summer, from her outposts in the hills, Under the boughs with heavy night-dews wet, |iall place her gold and purple sentinels. And in the populous woods sound reveilM, dling from field and fen her sweet deserters back — But he, — no long roll of the impatient drum, [or battle trumpet eager for the fray, From the far shores of blue Lake Erie blown, lall rouse the soldier's last lonjr bivouac. i is, ead, dead, lead, erground liii QUESTJOIfl^GS. QUESTIONINGS. I touch but the things which are near ; The heavens are too high for my reach : In shadow and symbol and creed, I discern not the soul from the deed, Nor the thought hidden under, from speech ; And tlie thing which I know not I fear. I dare not despair nor despond, Tliough I grope in the dark for the dawn: Birth and laughter, and bubbles of breath, And tears, and the blank void of death, Round each its penumbia is drawn, — i touch them. — I see not beyond. What voice speaking solemn and slow, Before the beginning for me, From the mouth of the primal First Cause, Shall teach me the thing that I was, Shall point out the thing I shall be, And show me the path that I go ? Were there any that missed me, or sought, in the cycles and centuries fled, QUESTloyiNilS. Ere my soul had a place among men ? — Even so, un remembered again I (shall lie in the dust with the dead, I And my name shall be heard not, nor thought. I Yea rather, — from out the abyss, ^^'llere the stars sit in silence and light, When the ashes and dust of our world Are like leaves in their faces up-whirled, — What orb shall look down through the night, I And take note of the quenching of this ? [Yea, beyond — in the heavens of space Where Jehovah sits, absolute Lord, WiiO made out of nothing the whole Round world, and man's sentient soul — Will He crush, like a creature abhorred, I What He fashioned with infinite grace In His own awful image, and made Quick with the flame of His breath, — Which He saw and behold it was good ? — Ah man ! thou hast waded through blood And crime down to darkness and death, [Since thou stood'st before Him unafraid. 17 o B ii|!l Sam ' If 18 QUESTIONINGS. My liffi falls away like a flower Day by day, — dispersed of the wind Its vague perfume, nor taketh it root, Ripening seeds for the sower, or fruit To make me at one with my kind, And give me my work, and my hour. No creed for my hunger sufficed, Though I clung to them, each after other, They slipped from my passionate hold, — The pro[)hets, the martyrs of old, — Thy pitying face, Mary Mother, — Thy thorn-circled forehead, Christ ! Pilgrim sandalled, the deserts have known The track of my wandering feet. Where dead saints and martyrs have trod. To search for the pure faith of God, Making life with its bitterness sweet, And death the white gate to a throne. O Thou, who the wine-press hast trod, sorrowful — stricken — betray cd, — Thy cross o'er my spirit prevails : In Thy hands wdth the print of t": ? nails. My life with its burdens is laid, — O Christ— Thou art sole— Thou art God 1 PAy^ilL'S, Id PANSIES. When the earliest south winds softly hlow Over the bro^vn earth, and the waning snow In the last days of the discrownkl March, — ■ Before the silver tassels of the larch. Or any tiniest bud or blade is seen ; Or in the woods the faintest kindling green, And all the earth is veiled in azure mist, Waiting the far-off kisses of the sun, — They lift their bright heads shyly one by one. And offer each, in cups of amethyst, Drops of the honey wine of fairy land, — A brimming beaker poised in either hand Fit for the revels of King Oberon, With all his royal gold and pui-ple on : Children of pensive thought and airy fancias, Sweeter than any poet's sweetest stanzas ; Though to the sound of eloquent music told, Or by the lips of beauty breathed or sung : They thrill us with their backward-looking glances, They bring us to the land that ne'er grows old, — They mind us of the days when life was young Nor time had stolen the fire from youth's romances. Dear English {)antiies ! 20 PANSIES, AVliile still the hyacinth sleeps on stciiiely, And every lily leaf is folded purely, Nor any pin-ple crocus hath arisen; Nor any tulip raised its slender stem, And burst the earth-walls of its winter prison, And donned its gold and jewelled diadem : Nor by the brookside in the mossy IkjIIow, That calls to every truant foot to follow, The cowslip yet hath hung its golden ball, — In the wild and treachcrons March weather, The pansy and the sunshine come together, The sweetest llower of all ! : ;mn The sweetest flower that blows ; Sweeter than any rose, Or that shy blossom opening in the night, Its waxen vase of aromatic light — A sleepy incense to the winking stars ; Nor yet in summer heats, That crisp the city streets, — Where the spiked mullein grows beside the bars In country places, and the ox-eyed daisy Blooms in the meadow grass, and brooks are lazy, And scarcely murmur in the twinkling heat ; When sound of babbling water is so sweet, Blue asters, and the purple orchis tall, PAXSIES. n Bond o'er the wimpling wave togotlior ; — The pansy blooms through all the summer weather, The sweetest flower of all ! The sweetest flower that blows ! When all the rest are scattered and departed, The symbol of the brave and faithful-hearted, Iler bright coiolla glows. Wlien leaves hang pendant on their withered stalks, Through all the half-deserted garden walks ; And through long autumn nighis. The merry dancers scale the northern heights, And tiny crystal points of frost-white fire Make brightly scintillant each blade and spire. Still under shade of shelt'ring wall, Or under winter's shroud of snows, Undimmed, the faithful pansy blows, The sweetest flower of all I ■^??! NO VEMBEii mi:ti:oiih. I i. November meteors. Out of the dread eternities, Tlie vast al)yHs of ni<,Mit, A glorious pageant rose and shono, And passed from human sight. We saw the glittering cavalcade, And lieard inwove through all, Faint and afar from star to star, The sliding music fall. \\'ith banners and with torches, And hoofs of glancing Hanie ; With helm and sword and pennon Ijriglit The long procession came. And all the starry spaces, Height above height outshone ; And the bickerini>" clansx of their armour ran*] Down to the farthest zone. As if some grand cathedral, With towers of malachite. And walls of more than crystal cler.r, Rose out of the solid light ; yo \'/:m i:er ml teojis. Mi ■moiir raiiij \ud uudrv i(,s iV()\viiiii '^ m w ncrURES IN THE FIRE. PICTURES IN THE FIRE. The winJ croons under the icicled eaves, — Croons and mutters a wordless song ; And tlie old ehn chafes its skeleton leaves Afjainst the windows all ni^jht lonij. Under the spectral garden wall, The drifts creep steadily high and higher And the lamp in the cottage lattice small Twinkles and winks like an f;ye of fire. But I see a vision of summer skies, Growing out of the embers red, lender the lids of my half -shut eyes, With my arms crossed idly under m^' head. I see a stile, and a roadside lime, With buttercups growing about its feet, And a footpath winding a sinuous line In and out of the billowy wheat. For lon<:>" aijo in the summer noons, Under the shade of that trysting tree, Ay love brought wheat ears and clover blooms, And vows that were sweeter than both, to me. n-'A II I: IL. IRE. i eaves, — song; n leaves OllGf. nd Iiigher :e small ! of file. PICTURES IN THE FIR/\ Heading the " Times " in his easy cliair, With his slippered feet on the fender biiolit, Little, I wot, he dreams how fair Are the pictures I see in the fire to-nl-ht. Still the wind pipes under the serried spears Of frozen boughs a desolate rhj^me, But I hear the rustle of golden ears, And in my heart it is summer time. ar es, 3r my head. its feet, line ;: tree, over blooms, J n both, to me. I!il !l t 1 28 A MADRIGAL. A MADRIGAL. The lily -bells ring underground, Their music small I hear. Wlien globes of dew that shine pearl-rounc' Hang in the cowslip's ear : And all the summer blooms and sprays Are sheathM from the sun ; And yet I feel in many ways Their living pulses run. The crownini:: rose of summer time Lies folded on its stem, Its bright urn holds no honey-wine, It's brow no diadem ; And yet my soul is inly thrilled, As if I stood anear Some legal presence unrevealed, The queen of all the year. Oh Rose, dear Rose ! the mist and dew Uprising from the lake, And sunshine glancii s, warmly through, Have kissed the flowers awake : — The orchard blooms are dropping balm, The tulip's gorgeous cup More slender than a desert palm It's chalice liftoth np : A MADIiJOAL. 29 The birds are mated in the tree.'i, The wan stars burn and pale, — Oil Rose, come forth ! — upon the breeze I hear the nightingale. Unfold the crimson waves that lie In darkness rosy dim, AirI swing thy fragi-ant censer high, Oh royal Rose for him ! Tlio hyacinths are in the fields With purple splendours pale, Tlieir sweet bolls ring responsi\'i' peals To every passing gale : A; 1(1 violets bending in the grass Do hide their glowing eyes, \\ hen those enchanting voices pass, Like airs from Paradise. \W' crowned our blushing Queen of May. Long since, with dance and time ; i ut the merry world of yesterday Is lapsing into June : — Tliou art not here, — we look in vain,^ Oh Kose, arise, appear ! — lit'sunie tiiine emerald throne, and reign The queen of all the year ! 30 THE PLOUGH LOY, THE PLOUGHROy. I "wonder what he is thinking!: In the ploughing field all day. Hei VT ' . '^0 the heads of his oxen, And never looks this way. And the furrows grow longer and longi.T, Aroi^ T^^ ,; t^, hase of the hill, And tlie vv.\ '".'^ iL»rJght with the sunset, Yet he ijioag).\5 nil whistles still. I ai.i iire(( oi: ^^rT:;.. f^" ridws. Where the oxen come and ^o. And of thinking of all the blossorris That are trampled down belo^\'. I wonder if ever he guesses ' That under the ragged brim Of his torn straw hat I am peeping To steal a look at him. The spire of the church and the windows Are all ablaze in the sun. He has left the plough in the furrow, His summer day's work is done. THE PLOUGHBOY. 31 And I hear him carolling softly A sweet and simple lay, That we often have sung together, While he turns the oxen away. Tlie buttercups in the pasture Twinkle and gleam like stai*s. He has gathered a golden handful, A leaning over the bars. lie has shaken the curls from his forehead. And is looking up this way, — O where is my sun-bonnet, mother ? He was thinking of me all day,— And I'm going down to the meado\r. For I know he is w^aiting there, To wreathe the sunshiny blossoms In the curls of my yellow hair. 1 f'^i i2 THE VOICE OF MAA^Y V.ATEIiS. t;; THE VOICE OF MANY WATERS. Oh Sea, that with infinite sadness, and infinite yearning Liftest thy crystal forehead toward the unpitying stars, — | Evermore ebbing and flowing, and evermore returning Over thy fathomless depths, and treacherous island bars : — Oh thou complaining sea, that fiUest the wide void spaces | Of the blue nebulous air with thy perpetual moan, Day and night, day and night, out of thy desolate places — j Tell me thy terrible secret, oh Sea ! what hast thou done 1 Sometimes in the merry mornings, with the sunshine's | golden wonder Glancing along thy cheek, unwiinkled of any wind, Thou seemest to be at peace, stifling thygre.it heart under] A face of absolute calm, — with danger and death behind Cut I h'^ar thy voice at midnight, smiting the awful silence With the long suspiration of thy pain suppressed ; And all the blue lagoons, and all the listening islands Shuddering have heard, and locked thy secret in tlieir breast 1 THE VOICE OF MANY WATERS. 33 Sea ! thou art like my heart, full of infinite sadness and pity, — endless doubt and endeavour, of sorrowful question and strife, jve some unlighted fortress within a beleagured city, )lding within and hiding the mastery of life. >^l lie sunshine's lawful silence Icret in their 34 TS£ HEATH OF AUTUMN, !',f I ' ! i! THE DEATH OF AUTUMN. Discrowned and desolate, And wandenng with dim eyes and faded hair, Singing sad songs to comfort her despair, Grey Autumn meets her fate. Forsaken and alone ►She haunts the ruins of her queenly state, Like banished Eve at Eden's flaming gate, Making perpetual moan. Crazed with her grief she moves Along the banks of the frost-charmed rills, And all the hollows of the wooded hills. Searching for her lost loves. From verdurous base to cope, The sunny hill-sides, and sweet pasture lands. Where bubbling brooks reach ever-dimpled hands Along the amber slope, — And valleys drowsed between, In the rich purple of the vintage time. When cups of gold that drop with fragrant wine, From orchard branches lean ; — THE DEATH OF AUTUMN. S6 And far beyond them, spread Broad fields thick set with sheaves of yellow wheat, Where scarlet poppies, sluniberously sweet, Glow with a dusky red — To the remotest zone Of hazy woodland pencilled on the sky, On whose far spires the clouds of sunset lie, — She held her regal throne ! Queen of a princely race, Whose ministers were all the elements ; Sunshine, and rain, and dew she did dispense With a right royal grace. Now, not a breath of air. Nor sunbeam, nor the voice of beast or bird, Stirring the lonely woods, hath any word To comfort her despair. Insidious, day by day A smouldering flame, a lurid crimson creeps Into the ashy whiteness of her cheeks. And burns her life away. The cavernous woods are dumb ! Through their oracular depths and seciet nooks, ■A ( w 86 TJJL' DL'A Til OF A UTUMN. To the imite supplication of her looks No mystic voices come. And through the still grey air The night comes down, and hangs her lamp on high, Like a wan lily blossomed on the sky, Shining so ghostly fair. Or looming up the heights, Those awful spectres of the frozen zone Splinter the crystal of heaven's sapphire dome, With arrowy -glancing lights. The while hoarse night winds rave. The old year looking backward to his prime With dim fond eyes, down the last stei)S of time Goes maunderinir to his p^ave ! ! \; ' A FAREWELL, •r A FAREWELL. Down the steep west unrolled, I ch the river of the sunset flow, Witu all its crhnson lights, and gleaming gold. Into the dusk below. And even as I gaze, The soft lights fade, — the pageant gay is o'er, And all is grey and dark, like those lost days, The days that are no more. No more through whispering pines, I shall behold, in the else silent even, The t faint star-watch set along the linos Cx le white tents of heaven. Before the earliest buds Have softly opened, heralding the May With tender light illuming the gray woods, I shall be gone away. Ah ! wood-walks winding sweet Through all the valleys sloping to the west, Where glad brooks wander with melodious feet. In musical unrest, — \t f^m ! ^ j- '.ii Jli I 38' A FAREWELL, Ye will not miss me here • With all the bright things of the coming May, And the rejoicing of the awakened year, — I shall be far away. Yet in your loneliest nooks, I know where all the greenest mosses grow, And where the violets lift their first sweet looks, Out of the waning snow. And I have heard, unsought. Under the musing shadows of the beech. Wood-voices answering my unspoken thought. In half-articulate speech. And oh I ye shadowy bands, Rank above rank along yon rocky height, That lift into the heavens your mailed hands, And linked armour bright. What other eyes will trace From this dear window liaunted with the past, Strange likeness to some well beloved face, Among your profiles vast ? Wliat stranger hands will tend The nameless treasures I must leave behind, — My flowers, my birds, and each inanimate friend, Linked closer than my kind. A FAIiEWELL. 99 These glorious landscapes old, Framed in my cottage windows, — hill-sides dun, With umber shadows lightened to pale gold By touches of the sun, — Valleys like emeralds set Lonely and sweet in the dusk hills afar, That half enclose them, like a carcanet That holds a diamond star : Will any gentler face, Weaiy and sad sometimes, like mine grow bright Touched with your simple beauty — in my place, My garden of delight ? — I know not, — yet farewell • Sweet home of mine, — m}'' parting song is o'er, And stranger forms among your bowera shall dwell, Where I return no more. 40 THE NEWSBOTS DREAM OF THE NEW YEAR. THE NEWS-BOY'S DREAM OF THE NEW YEAR Under the bare brown rafters, In his garret bed he lay, And dreamed of the bright liereaftcrs, And the merry morns of May. Tlio snow-flakes slowly sifted In through each cranny and seam, Cut only the sunshine drifted Into the news-boy's dream. For he dreamed of the brave to-morrows, His eager eyes should scan, When battling with wants and sorrows, He felt himself a Man. He felt his heart grow bolder For the struggle and the strife, . When shoulder joined to shoulder. In the battle-field of life. And instead of the bare brown rafters, And the snowflakes sifting in, He saw in the glad hereafters. The home his hands should win r ! I I THE NEWS-B0T8 DREAM OF THE NEW YEAR. The flowers that grew in its shadow, And the trees that drooped above ; The low of the kine in the meadow, And the coo of the morning dovo. And dearer and more tender, He saw his mother there. As she knelt in the sunset splendour, To say the evening prayer. His face — the sun had burned it, And his hands were rough and hard, But home, he had fairly earned it, And this was his reward ! The morning star's faint glimmer Stole into the garret forlorn, And touched the face of the dreamer With the liglit of a hope new-borii. Oh, ring harmonious voices Of New Year's welcoming bolla ! For the very air rejoices, 41 Through all its soundi* wail of re pen tan CO, Moantid in the hranches forlorn but throui^h tlic closed lattices ever Drifted a stir and a fragrance of springtime over tlio borders. i^ii; Tlien through the stillness of night struck the clash and the clangor Of bells that told twelve from the towers of the neigh- bouring city ; And lo ! the great gates were flung wide, and thronged with the hurrying races — High and low, rich and poor — and the light of ineffable And infinite love shone down and illumined their faces, Faces o^c dolor some, of hope, of son ow, and anger. Loud clanged the bells from the towers in jubilant rude- ness, And like the voice of a multitude rising respondent, The words of that marvellous legend made vocal the silence — V all sentient creatures ascended triumphant, listening forests, and mountains, and islands i_n.u. c, a sang it, " He crowneth the Year with His goodness ! ' ^^w 09 THE LEGEND OF THE NEW YEAR, Praise Him, O sounding seas, and floods ! praise Him abounding rivers ; Praise Him, ye flowery months, and every fruitful season ! Praise Him, stormy wind, and ice, and snow, and vapor, Ye cattle that clothe the hills, and man with marvellous reason ; Who crownetli the year with goodness, who prospereth all thv la)>our, Yea, let all flesh bless the Loid, and magnify Him forever i t 'I i BY Tin: SEASHORE AT MGUT. &3 BY THE SEA-SHORE AT NIGHT. oil lapping waves ! — oh gnawing waves!— That rest not day nor night, — 1 hear ye when the light Is dim and awful in your hollow caves : — All day the winds were out, and rode Their steeds, your tossing crest, — To-night the fierce winds rest, Aiul the moon walks above them her bri'>ht road. Yet none the less ye lift your hando^ And your despairing cry U[) to the midnight sky, And clutch, and trample on the shuddering sands. ; fr Tluit shrink and tremble even in sleep, Out of your passionate reach. Afraid of your dread speech, And the more dreadful silence that ye keep pprw" ■■■■ I ^ 64 BY THE SEASHORE AT NIOHT. Oh sapping waves ! — oh mining i/aves ! — Under the oak's gnarled feet, And tower, and village street, Scooping by si<.a,lth in darkness myriad graves ;— > What secret strive ye thus to hide, A thousand fathoms deep. Which the sea will not keep, And poui*s, and babbles forth upon her refluent tide ?- I see your torn and wind-blown hair, btiewn far along the shore, — And lifted evermore Your white hands tossing in a fierce despair ; And half I deem ye hold below, In vast and wandering cell, The primal spirits who fell. Reserved in chains and immemorial woo. Keep ye, oh waves ! — your mystery :— The time draws on apace, When from before His face. The heavens and the earth shall flee. And evermore there shall be no more sea T <>ivi HEUUROAM. W RfiSURGAM. Into the darkness ami the deeps My thoughts have strayed, where silence dwells, Where the old world encrypted sleeps, — Myriads of forms, in myriad cells, or dead and inorganic things, That neither live, nor move, nor grow, Nor any change of atoms know ; That have neither legs, nor arms, nor wings, That have neither heads, nor mouths, nor stings, That have neither roots, nor leaves, nor stems, To hold up flowers like diadems, Growing out of the ground below : But which hold instead The cycles dead, And out of their stony and gloomy folds Shape out new moulds For a new race begun ; Shutting within dark pages, furled As in a vast herbarium. The flowers and balms, M ItESULGAM. The pines and palms, Tlie ferns and cones, All turned to stones Of all the unknown elder world, As in a wonderful museum, Hanged in its myriad mummy shelves. Insects and worms,— All lower forms Of fin and scale, Of gnat and whale, Fish, bird, and the monstrous mastodon, The fabulous megatherium, And men themselves. Ah, what life is here compressed. Frozen into endless rest ! Down through springing blades and spires, Down through mines, and crypts, and cave*'. Still graves on graves, and graves on graves, Down to earth's most central fires. The morning stars sang at their birih, In the first beginning"^ of time. What voice of dolour or of mirth At their last funeral maJe moan,— Ashes to ashes — eai th to earLh, And stone to btone, — RESURGAM. Chanting the liturgy suljlime. What matter, — in tliat doom's-tlay book Their place is fixed — their names are writ, Each in its individual nook, — God's eye beholds — remembers it. When the slow-moving centuries Have lapsed in the former eternities, — ^Vllen the day is come which we see not yet,- Wl) en the sea gives up its dead — And the thrones are set. These books shall be opened and read I 67 ^'m 58 WRITTEN /A A CEMETERY WRITTEN IN A CEMETERY. Stay yet awhile, oh flowers !— oh wandering grasses, And creeping ferns, and climbing, clinging vines ; — Bend down and cover with lush odorous masses My darling's couch, where he in sleep reclines. Stay yet awhile ; — let not the chill OctoLcr Plant spires of glinting frost about his bed ; Nor shower her faded leaves, so brown and sober, Among the tuberoses above his head. I would have all tilings fair, and sweet, and tender, — The daisy's pearl, the cowslip's shield of snow, And fragrant hyacinths in purple splendour. About my darling's grassy couch to grow. Oh birds ! — small pilgrims of the summer weather, Come hither, for my darling loved ye well ; — Here floats the thistle down for you to gather, And bearded grasses ripen in the dell. WRITTEN IN A CEMETERY. 59 Here pipe, and plume your wings, and chiip and fliitter, And swing, light-poised upon the pendant bough ; — Fondly I deem he hears the calls ye utter, And stirs in his light sleep to answer you. Oh wind ! — that blows through wakeful nights and lonely, Oh rain ! — that sobs against my window pane, — Ye beat upon my heart, which beats but only To clasp and shelter my lost lamb again. Peace peace, my soul : — I know that in another And brighter land my darling walks and waits, Where we shall surely meet and clasp each other. Beyond the threshold of the shining gates. «0 MAliUUEUlTE. MARGUERITE. Marguerite, — oli Marguerite ! Thy sleep is sound, and still and sweet, Framed in the pale gold of thy hair, Thy face is like an angel's fair. Marguerite, — oh Marguerite ! Tender curves of cheek and lips — Sweet eyes hid in long eclipse — Pale robes flowing to thy feet — Folded hands that lightly meet, — Marguerite, — oh Marguerite I Sleep'st thou still ? — the world awakes,- Still the echo swells and breaks, — Over field, and wood, and street Easter anthems throb and beat, — Marguerite, — oh Marguerite ! Christ the Lord is risen aguin, — Hearst thou not the glad refrain, — MARGUEltTTS. Have those gentle lips no breath, Smiling in the trance of death ? — Marguerite, — oh Marguerite ! In the grave from whence He rose, Lay thee to thy long repose, — Sweet with myrrh and spices, — sweet With the footprints of His feet,— Marguerite, — oh Marguerite ! Where His sacred head hath lain, Thine may rest, secure from pain. While the circling years go round. Without motion, — without sound,— Marguerite, — oh Marguerite ! 01 THE WATCHLIOHT, . t THE WATCH-LIGHT. Above the roofs and chimney -tops, And through the slow November rain, A light from some far attic pane, Shines twinkling through the water-drops. Some lonely watcher waits and weeps, Like me, the step that comes not yet ;— Her watch for weary hours is set, While far below the city sleeps. The level lamp-rays lay the floors, And bridge the dark that lies below, O'er which my fancies come and go, And peep, and listen at the doors ; And bring me word how sweet and plain, And quaint the lonely attic room, Where she sits singing in the gloom, Words sadder than the autumn rain. 'A thousand times by sea and shore, In my wild dreams I see him lie, With face upturned toward the sky. Murdered, and stifl^ening in his gore :— :i ! THE WATCI/LIGHT. Or drowned, and Hoatinjj; with the tide, Within some lonely midnight bay, — His arms stretched toward me where he Uy, And bluo eyes staring, fixed and wide. Oh winds that rove o'er land and sea ! Oh waves that lap the yellow sands ! Oh hide your stealthy, treacherous hands, And call no more his name to me.' — Thus much I heard, — and unawares, The sense of pity stole away My loneliness and misery, — When lo, a light step on the stairs !— Ah joy ! — the step that brings my own, Safe from all harms and dangers in ;— My heart lifts up its thankful hymn. And bids good -night to night and moan. I sleep, — I rest, — and I forget The bridge — the night-lam}Vs level beams. Till waking out of happy dreams, I see her watch-light shining yet. God comfort those that watch in vain,— I breathe to Him my voiceless prayer ; Pity their tears and their despair, And bring the wanderers home again. mm i\'.VJr VAVl/f, 1%3. NEW YEAR, 18G8. Cradled in ice, and swathed in snows, And shining like a Christmas rose, Wreathed round with white chrysjinthenmrns; Heaven in his innocent, brave blue eyes, I Straight from the primal paradise, Behold the infant New Year comes ! His looks a serious sweetness wear, As if upon that unseen way. Those baby hands that lightly bear Garlands, and festive tokens gay, For but a glance, — a touch sufficed, — Had met and touched the infant Christ ! And lingering on the wing, had heard, Sweeter than song of any bird, Of cherub or of seraphim, The notes of that divinest hynin, — Glcry to God in highest strain. And peace on earth, good will to men. Oh, diamond days, so royally set In winter's stern and rugged breast, Like jewels in an amulet, — Your light has cheered, and soothed, and blest, The want and toil, the sighs and tears, And soiTows of a thousand years ! NEW YEAR, 18Ca The Lolls rin;^ in tlio mtTry morn, Tho })oc)r forgot thuir poverty, The saddest lace grows bri^^lit with glee, And stnilcs for joy tliat lie is horn ; Tlie fair round world shines out with cheer, To welcome in the glad New Year. Oh ye, whose homes arc warm and bright, With plenty smiling at the board, lleniember those whose roofs to-night, Nor warmth, nor light, nor food afford, Still make those wants, and woes your care, And let the poor your bounty share. For yet our hills and lakes along Echoes the herald angels' song, — Peace and good will ! — oh look abroad,— In every nation, tribe, and clan. Behold the brotherhood of man, — Behold the Fatherhood of God ! Peace to our mountains and our hills,— Peace to our rivers and our rills ; — Our young Dominion takes her place Among the nations w^est and east, — God send her length of happy days. And years of plenty and of peace 1 S 65 /-* 1^ ee TIIANKiiaiVIAG. i '\] THANKSGIVING. Tho Autumn hills arc golden at the top, And rounded as a poet's silver rhyme ; Tho mellow days are ruhy ripe, that drop One after one into the lap of time. Dead leaves are reddeninijj in th(^ woodland copse, And forest boughs a fading glv)ry wear; No ])reaiH of wind stirs in their hazy tops, Silence and peace are brooding everywhere. The long day of the year is almost done, And nature in the sunset musing stands, Gray-robed, and viuK't-hoodfd like a nun, Looking abroad o'er yellow harvest lands : O'er tents of ovchard boughs, and purple vines With scarlet Hecked, tlung like broad banners out Along the field paths whenj slow-pacing lines Of nicek-eyed kine obey the herdboy's shout ; THANKSaiVING. Wlicio the tired pl()Ud, As in the twiliglit (l the year she stands, And with her gladness seems to thank tlie Lord. m rinis let us rest while from toil and care, In the sweet sabbath of this autumn calm, And lift our hearts to heaven in grateful prayer, And sin;gf with nature our thanksgiving psalm. f -. w^ 86 MISEltEliE, i ' ! i'' I MISEREKE. Be pitiful, oh God ! the night is I'^ng, My soul is faint with watching for the light, And still the gloom and doubt of seven-fold night Hangs heavy on my spirit : Thou art strong : — Pity me, oh my God ! I stretch my hands through darkness up to Thee, — The stars arc shrouded, and tlie night is dumb ; There is no cartlily help, — to Thee I come In all my helplessness and misery, — Pity me, oh my God ! Be pitiful, oh God ! — for f niu woak, And all my paths arc rouLjh, and hedged about, — Hold Thou my Imnd dear Lord, and lead me out. And bring me to tlio city which 1 seek, — Pity me, oh my God ! By the temptation which Thou didst endure. And by Thy fasting and Thy midnight prayer, Jesu ! let me not utterly despair ; Oh ! hide me in the Rock from ill secure, — Pity me, oh my God 1 i>% f'-S^ MISEltEItE. Mine eyes run down witli t»'ars that do not cease ; Oh ! when beyond tlie livor dark and cold, Shall I the white walls of my home behold, - The shining palaces — the streets of ^old, — And enter through the gates the City of Peace,— Pity me, oh my God J m m 70 BEYOND. BEYOND. . Cloudy argosies are drifting down into the purple daik, And th« long low amber reaches, l3'ing on the horiz(jn s mark, Sliapo themselves into the gateways, dhu and wonderful unfurlovi, Gateways leading through the sunset, out into the under- world. How my spirit vainly flutters, like a bird tliat beats tlie bars, To be launched upon that ocean, with its tides of throb- bing stars, To be gone beyond the sunset, .;nd the day's revol\ in:,' zone. Out into the primal darkness, and the world of the un- known ! Hints and guesses of its grandeur, broken shadows, sudden gleams. Like a falling star shoot past me, quenched within a s<:a of dreams, — But the unimagined glory lying in the dark beyond, Is to these as morn to midnight, or as silence is to sound. BEYOND. 71 Sweeter than the trees of Eden, dropping purple blooms, and balm, Are the odor.s wafted toward me from its isles of wind- less calm, — And the gold of all our sunsets, witli their sapi>hir(' all im- pearled, Would not match the fused and glowing heaven of that under world. Pale sea-buds there weep forever, water lilies damp and cool, And the mystic lotus shining through its white waves beautiful, lii those dusk and sunless vallc}s, where no steps of mor- tals tread. Bind the white brows of the living, whom we blindly call the dead. Oil ye lost ones, — ye departed, who have passed that silent shore. Though we call you through the sunset, ye return to us no more. Have ye found those blessed islands where earth's toils and sorrows cease ? Do ye wear the sacred lotus, — ^have ye entered into peace ? r 72 BEYOND. Do yc hoar us when wo call you, — do ye heed the tears we slu'd, — Oh beloved I — oh immortal ! — oh ye dead who are not dead ! Speak to us across the darkness, — wave to us a glimmer- ing hand, — Tell us but that ye ronemher, dwellers in the silent land 1 But the sunset clouds have faded, arch and capital are gone. And the regal night is glorious, with the starlight over- blown ; — Life is labor and not dreaming, and I have my work to do, Ere within those happy valleys I shall wear the lilies too. THE SAJJIJATII OF TUB WOODS. n THE SABIiATTI OF THE WOODS. Sundown — and silence — and deep peace, — Ni;;lit'.s benediction and release ; — The tints of day die out and cease. This morn I heard the Sabbath bells Across the breezy upland swells ; — -ly path lay down the woodland della. To-day, I said, the dust of creeds, The wind of words reach not my needs ; — I worship with the birds and weeds. From height to height the sunbeam sprung, The wild vine, touched with vermeil, clung, The mountain brooklet leapt and sung. The white lamp of the lily made A tender liglit in deepest shade, — The solitary place was glad. The very air was tremulous, — I felt its deep and reverent hush, — Gu And yet without thy listening face, I cannot read, the book I shut. And muse, and dream : — it is the day When lovers, silent all the year. Find tongues in floral tokens gay, To whisper all they long to hear. Ah, many a time, and many a time I saw the question in thine eyes, " Where is the silver-sounding rhyme, The simple household melodies. The harp that trembled to thy touch ; Hast thou forgot thine early lore ?" And know'st not that I love so much, That song contents my heart no more. For thou Imst made my life so sweet, With dainty gifts thy dear hands brin^, Rich with tliine afthieiiee, and complete, 1 liave no lonu^ing left to sing. And yet, I liave such vast desires, Such thirst for some great destiny, Tliat all the poet's weaktn' Hres Burn into prophecies for thee. The circle of our homn could make The boundaries of my world, but taino So splendid is, — for thy dear sake, I fain would ])ush the bounds of mine. For this I study as I may To walk with thee, the world of mind, To follow where thou lead'st the way, A step, — but just a step behind. Thy hand in mine, thine earnest eyes Fixed ever on the radiant goal. Together shall we climb the skies, And mingle there, one perfect soul. ^ ( "^^ IMAGE EVALUATION TEST TARGET (MT-3) V // {/ / fc ^ 1.0 I.I 1.25 JSiia iiM .|lllllM i^ :■ il 111112.0 ;.4 1.6 p^ <^ /a /J *:'^ >*<■ '/ W Photographic Sciences Corporation 23 WEST MAIN STREET WEBSTER, NY. 14580 (716) 872-4503 \ iV cF A \ "% v ^^ c^ ^-G^ <^ <^ i/.x 78 UNOW-DROPS. SNOW-DROPS. I iH Dimly and durably under the ground, CJroping the walls of their prison round, The roots of the asfed and cjarrulous trees Are sending electrical messages From the under- world to the world without And quickening pulses that course in each Fettered and bound and frozen thing, Rootlets that tremble, and fibres that reach Are pushing inanimate fingers out, To ask in their inarticulate speecJi For tidings of Spring. And the fine invisible sprite which dwells In cups and discs, in blossoms and bells, Fleeter than Ariel's wing hath flown Beyond this cloudy and frozen zone. To the summer land of the South ; Beyond those rugged sentinels Which winter sets in the snow-capped hills, From the breath of whose cruel mouth, Sighing, the leaves in forest and wold. tr SROW-DROPS. 71) Shivered and died in the nights a' cold, Died and were buried under the snow. Long moons ago. Now over the tropic's broad ellipse The sprite hath passed, as fleet and fast As the lioht of falling: stars, that east A sudden radiance and eclipse ; And all the buds that are folded close As the inner leaves of an unblown rose. In bulb, or cone, or scale, or sheath, And sealed with the odorous gums that breatho Like the breath of the sin;::jing and sighing pine, When the dews are falling at evening time. Through cone, and sheath, and bulb, and scale- Tremble, and cry All hail ! And look where a rosier beam hath cleft The damp and fragrant-smelling earth, A handful of snow-drops peeping forth ; As if King Winter had dropped and left — Stumbling and tripping the steep hills down — • Had clutched his robe and dropped his crown : Or as if the very snow had power. Out of itself to fashion a flower ; So vase-like, slender, and exquisite, Like an alabaster lamp alit, — 80 SNOW-DLOPS, And shining with a sea-green light. As if it had but newly come Up from some subterraneau palace, The haunt of fairy or of gnome, With its waxen taper still alight, And beaming in its leafy chalice, That lit the revellers down below, When the nights were long, and the moon was low. You might have heard, far-off and sweet. The sound of the elfin revelries. Like a buo;le strain blown over seas, And the patter and beat of dancing feet, — If you had been like me awake. What time the Great Bear seems to shako, Down through the trackless realms of air, Frost-lances from his shaggy hair ; And all around — beneath — across, The round globe lies stabbed through with frost. Now the touches of the sun, Like some potent alchemist. In hcut and dews, in rain and mist. As in a subtle menstruum, Hath dissolved the icy charm, And laid on that cold breast of hers,— Natnre's breast — that faintly stirs. SyOW-DROPS. Si With his fragaant kisses warm, Sweet as myrrh and cinnamon, — Snow-drops, spring's bright harbingers, First-born children of the sun. Like a sudden burst of ]eaf and bloom. The sun shines redly through the gloom, And the wind with its many melodies Iliith a murmurous sound like the noise of bees, Singing and humming, — blowing and growing, Of springing blade, and of fountain flowing ; And night and silence under the ground Listen — { nd thrill — and move to the sound. And answer, Spring is coming I 82 EASTER DELLS, EASTER BELLS. Oh bells of Easter morn, oh solemn soundmg hells, Which fill the hollow cells Of the blue April air with a most sweet refrain, Ye fill my heart with pain. For when, as from a thousand holy altar-fires, A thousand resonant spires Sent up the offering — tlie glad thanksgiving stra n — " The Lord is risen again ! " He went from us who shall return no more, no more ! I say the sad words o'er, And they are mixed and blent with your triumphant, psalm. Like bitterness and balm. ' 1 1 ■ f if '! ; t 1 I \ \ I i 1: 1 ; i 1 We stood with him beside the black and silent river, Cold, cold and soundless ever ; But there our feet were stayed — ^unloosed our clasping fond, And he has passed beyond. EASTER BELLS. 83 And still that solemn hymn, like smoke of sacrifice, Clomb the blue April skies, And on our anguish placed its sacramental chrism, " Behold, the Lord is risen ! " Oh, hells of Easter morn ! your mighty voices reach A deeper depth than speech ; • We heard, " Because He liveth they shall live with Him ; " This was our Easter hymn. m And while the slow vibrations swell, and sink, and cease, They bring divinest peace, For we commit our best beloved to the dust, In sure and certain trust. ••(^n 84 IN THE alElUlA NEVADA, IN THE SIERRA NEVADA. I lift my spirit to your cloudy thrones, And feel it broaden to your vast expanse, Oh ! mountains, so immeasurably old, Crowned with bald rocks and everlasting cold, That melts not underneath the sun's fierce glance, Peak above peak, fixed, dazzling, ice and stones. Down your steep sides quick torrents leap and roar, And disappear, in gloomy gorges sunk, Fringed with black pines on dizzy verges high- Poised, trembling to the thunder and the cry Of the lost waters, through each giant trunk, And farthest twig and tassel evermore. Bcshold far down the mountain herdsman's ranche. The rough road winding past his lonely door. And in his ears, by day and night, the sound Of mad waves plunging down the gulfs profound, The tempest's gathering cry, the dull deep roar. And the long thunder of the avalanche I IN THE SIERRA NEVADA. » Night broods along the vallies while your peaks Are pink and purple with the rays of mom, And tilmy tints that swim the depths of space, To reach, and kiss you first upon the face, Before the world awakes, and day is born, To tlush with colder gleam your rugged cheeks. And last, and longest lingering, the light Is on your mighty foreheads, when the sun Sets in the sea, and makes a palace fair For his repose, of crystal wave and air, — Ye seem to stoop, and smile to look upon Tlie fallen monarch from your silent height. Vallies are green about your rocky feet, And sweet with clambering vines, and waving corn. And breath of flowers, and g(jld of ripening fruit ; Cities send up their smoke, and man and brute Beneath your wide embrazure have been born And died for ages, yet Ye hold your seat. I lift my spirit up to you, and seem To feel your vastness penetrate my soul ; And faintly see, far-off, and looming broad And dread, the grandeur of the world of God, And thrill to be a part of the great whole, Which towers above me, a stupendous dream. 86 — ♦*-rf 86 SUMMER rain: SUMMER RAIN. rain, Summer Rain ! forever, Out of the crystal spheres, And cool from my brain the fever. And wash from my eyes the tears. Stir gently the blossoming clover. In the hollows dewy and deep ; — Somewhere they are blossoming over The spot where I shall sleep. Asleep from this wearisome aching. With my arms crossed under my head, 1 shall hear without awaking, The rain that blesses the dead. And the ocean of man's existence, — The surges of toil and care, Shall break and die in the distance, But never reach me there. And yet — I fancy it often — I should stir in my shrouded sleep. And struggle to rise in my coffin, If he came there to weep. !' I SUMMER RAIN. Among the dead — or the angels — Though ever so faint and dim, I should know that voice in a thousand, And stretch my hands to him. But the trouble of life and living, And the burden of daily care, And the endless sin, and forgiving, Arc greater than I can bear. So rain. Summer Rain, and cover The meadows dewy and deep. And freshen the blossoming clover, And sing me to dreamless sleep. 17 fmm 8$ A BADTS DEATH. \\\\A A BABY'S DEATH. A little white soul went up to God, Out of the mire of the city street ; It grew like a flower in the highway broad, Close to the trample of heedless feet. m It fell like a snow-flake over night, Into the ways by vile ones ti'od ; It sparkled — dissolved in the morning light, And the little white soul went up to God. Dainty, flower-soft, waxen thing, Its clear eyes opened on this bad earth, And the little shuddering soul took wing, By the gate of death, from the gate of birth. i ! Not for those innocent lips and eyes. The words and the ways of sin and strife ; The pure flower opened in paradise. Fast by the banks of tho river of life. A liAliY'S 1 KATII. Yea, little victors, vho never fou^'-ht ; And crowned, though ye never ran the raco, His blood your innocent lives hath bouf^ht And ye stand before Him and see His face : For this, oh Father ! we give Thee thanks, By the little graves, and the tear-wet sod ; They stand before Thee in shining ranks. And the little white souls are safe with God ! 90 OHItLiTMAS, CHRISTMAS. ;i - - ' ;' i ll pi 1 iv. i: 1 \ 1, The birth -day of the Christ child dawneth slow Out of the opal east in rosy flame, As if a luminous picture in its frame — A great cathedral window, toward the sun Lifted a form divine, which still below Stretched hands of benediction ; — while the aij Swayed the bright aureole of the flowing hair Which lit our upturned faces ; — even so Look on us from the heavens, divinest One ! And let us hear through the slow moving years, Long centuries of wrongs, and crimes, and tears, — The echo of the angel's song agai-n, Peace and good will, good will and peace to men. A little space make silence, — that our ears, Filled with the din of toil and moil and pain. May catch the jubilant rapture of the skies,^ The glories of the choirs of paradise. CHRISTMAS. ftl The hills still tremble when the thunders cease Of the loud diapason, — and again Through the rapt stillness steals the hymn of peace ; Melodious and sweet its far refrain Dying in distance, as the shadows die Of white wings vanished up the morning sky, As farther still — and thinner — more remote — A film of sound, the aerial voices float — Peace and good will, good will and peace to men ! (i, k^s^ W ^ ^IV GAnbEN MY GARDEN. i •■•i I ! M Only the commonest flowers Crow in my garden small, Like buttercups, and bouncing-bets, And hollyhocks by the wall ; And sunflowers nodding their stately heada, Like grenadiers so tall. But the purple pansy grows beneath-— The sweetest flower of all — And tiny feathery filmy ferns You scarce can see at all, Fleck the shady side of the stones, So dainty, fine and small. Only the commonest flowers Grow in this garden of mine, The larkspur flaunting her sky-blue cap, And the twinkling celandine Shakes her jewels of freckled gold, And drinks her honey-wine, Making a cup of her lucent stem, So slender and so fine. MY GARDEN. You hear the waves that dimple and slide, Slide and shimmer and shine, Under her fairy-slippered feet — My golden celandine. The hanrls of the little children Gather them without fear ; Wonders of beauty and gladness To them my flowers appear. I have seen them bend to listen, With poised and patient ear. The curfew chime of the fairies, In the lily's bell to hear. Oh, blessed and innocent children. With eyes so crystal clear, That ye look with the dual vision Of the baby and the seer. To you the stars and the angels, And the heavens themselves are near, And the amaranths of paradise. That blossom all the year : I would I could see what ye see. And hear what ye can hear. i\. 03 k 04 JiIV£R SONO. RIVER SONG Swift and silent and strong ! Under the low -browed arches, Through culverts, and under bridges, Sweeping with long forced marches Down to the ultimate ridges, — The sand, and the reeds, and the midges, And the down-dropping tassels of larches, That border the ocean of song. Swift and silent and deep ! Through the noisome and smoke-grimed city, Turning the wheels and the spindles. And the great looms that have no pity, — Weight, and pulley, and windlass, And steel that flashes and kindles, And hears no forest-learnt ditty, Not even in dreams and sleep. Blithe and merry and sweet ! Over its shallows singing, — I hear before I awaken The sound of the church-bells ringing, RIVER SONG. And the sound of the leaves wind-shaken, Complaining and sun-forsaken, And the oriole warbling and singing, And the swish of the wind in the wheat U5 m Sweet and tender and true ! From meadows of blossoming clover, Where sleepy-eyed cows are lowing. And bobolinks twittering over, — Ebbing and falling and flowing — Singing and gliding and going — The river — my silver-shod lover, Down to the infinite blue. Deep, and tender, and strong ! With resonant voice and hollo — To far away sunshiny places, Haunts of the bee and the swallow, Where the Sabbath is sweet with the praises Of dumb things, of weeds and of daisies,— Oh river ! I hear thee — I follow To the ocean where I too belong. % In 96 THE RETURN. THE EETURN. I have been where the roses blow, Where the orange ripens its gold, And the mountains stand with their peaks ot snow, To fence away the cold ; Where the lime and the myrtle lent Their fragrance to the air, To make the land of my banishment More exquisitely fair. And I heard the ring dove call To his mate in the blossoming trees, And I saw the white waves heave and fall. Far away over southern seas. I listened along the beach, By the shore of the shifting sea. To the waves, till I knew their murmured speech, And the message they bore to me. And I watched the great sails furled, Like the wings of some ocean bird, That brought me, out of another world, A warning, and a word ; I! I THE RETURN. For still beside my way, By shore or sunlit wave, There journeyed with me night and day, The shadow of a grave. Oh, friends ! my heart went forth To you with a yearning cry, To be taken back to my native North- To be taken home to die. For sweeter than southern suns, Or the blossoms of summer lands, Are the faces of my little ones. And the touch of their tender hands. Come closer to my side, Your eyes are as clear and true As if they were stars my way to guide, My darlings, back to you. Oh God ! my heart is stirred With thankfulness and rest, To reach at last, like a wounded bird, The shelter of its nest. 97 Si?! Oh, faint pulse, throbbing long ! And weary and fluttering breath, 'Twas the mother-love that kept you strong, Though face to face with death. o m f iii i i 98 THE RETURN, But now my eyes are dim, And my braath comes weak and Sing to me softly the evening hymn, And kiss me ere I go. Come close : for the angel waits — The angel with gentle hand, To open for me the shadowy gates. Into the silent land. Oh, voices sweet and clear ! What light is in the skies ? Is it your glad voices that I hear — Or the hymns of paradise ? Farewell ! your faces fade — Fade — fade — and disappear In the light no earthly cloud may shade. Heaven's morning dawning clear. Oh, land of rest so fair ! , By angel footsteps trod, I shall wait for you, beloved there, In the paradise of God. VOICE OF HOPE, VOICES OF HOPE. It is the hither side, Hope, And afternoon ; our shadows slope Backward along the mountain cope. The early morning was so sweet, We seemed to climb with wingM feet, Like moving vapors fine and fleet. Not more elastic poised ajnd swun" Harebell or yellow adder's tongue, Nor blither anv bird that sung. Thy light foot bent not any stem Of frailest plant, whose diadem In passing kissed thy garment's hem. Hope ! so near me and so bright, Thy foot above me on the height, 1 might not touch thy garments white. Thy lifted face, so fair, so rapt, Like sunshine rolled and overlapped Cliff, slope, and tall peak thunder-capped. n B ; I If fc il He ijSli^ ffw^'' 1 :' 1 j,| i ■ 1 \\ ( f :j[ |: J 1 100 VOICES OF HOPE. Thy voice to me like silver brooks Down dropped from secret mountain nooks, Still drew me, like thy radiant looks. Nor scoiching sun, nor beating rain. Nor soil, nor grime, nor travel-stain. With thee, were weariness or pain. But now — it is the afternoon Behind, the mountain summit's gloom : Before, night's shadows gather soon. O Hope ! where art thou ? — rough and steep The way has grown ; I faint and weep, Beside me torrents toss and leap ; And far below, unseen for tears, The river where life disappears. Uplifts its thunder to my ears. Canst thou, with thy serener eyes. Over the flood God's paradise, Behold in awful beauty rise ? Far off I seem to see thee stand. Shading rapt eyes with radiant hand, To scan that unknown glorious land. VOICEH OF HOPE. The glory of that unseen place, Gathers and brightens o'er thy face, A.nd fills thy looks with tender grace. 0, Hope divine I — 1 would behold f hose shining spires, those streets of gold : But ah ! the waves are deadly cold I T hear the thunder and the sweep Of waves ; deep talleth unto deep ; The pathway ends, abrupt and steep. Yet, soft beside that solemn shore, I hear thy voice above its roar ; " Life is a dream — and it is o'er ; *' The night is past — behold the day, new-born soul — child of clay, O bird uncaged and still astray ; ** Take through the universe thy road ; All paths lead up to His abode, Converging at the Mount of God ! ** 101 108 IN THE COUNTRY. IN THE COUNTRY. Here the sunshine, filtering dmvn, Through leaves of emerald, dun and brown, Is green instead of golden ;^ And the hum and roar of the distant town In an endless hush is holden. Twinklinjj bright throufjh the shadowin^jj limes, The brook rains a sparkle of silver rhymes On the dragon-Hy, its neiglibour ; It pays no duty in dollars and dimes, For its work is all love-labour. Here are no spindles, nor wheels to be whirhd, No forges nor looms from the outside world, Stunning the ear with clamour ; You hear but the whisper of leaves unfurled, And the tap of the woodpecker's hammer. Here are no books to be written or read, But cushions of softest moss instead, Without a care to cumber ; And fern-leaf fans for the weary head. Soothing the soul to slumber ' i ■ \ J jkuiii. IN THE COUNTRY. Oh ! come from the tlu.sty Imunts of trade, From the desk, the ledger, the loom, the spade ; There is neither toil nor payment. Forget for once, in this peaceful shade, The sordid ways in which dollars are made, And food and drink and raiment. Consider the lilies, arrayed so fair. In robes that an eastern k ing might wear, Though never an eye may heed them ; And the sparrows, of whoip His hand takes care, For our Father in Heaven feeds them. His rainbow spans the heavenly blue; His eye takes note of the drops of dew. And the sunset's g2 TttE BATTLE AUTUMUt OF 1802. i . .. ,,- To Jay the hero-martyr's grave Is shaken by the arm^d tread Of patriotic soldiers o'er his head.. Not by the footsteps of one slave ! So grows the work that he began, Wrought out in slow and toilsome ways, Yet ever building through the days, A grander heritage for man. Oh ! harvest years, foretold so long ! Through seas of blood, through years of wrong, A people patient brave and strong, In camp and field, and battle clang, 'Mid cannon's roar and trumpet's peal, And shock of war, and clash of steel, For you each steadfast blade out-sprang I In you each loyal heart kept faith | As strong as life, as stern an death ; Though human lives like summer grain Were sown on every battle-plain ; Blood of our bravest and our best. The red, red wine of life was pressed. And lost like summer rain. In dust and smoke of carnage whined, Before those dying eyes still swam Those coming years so grand and calm. The golden Autumns of the world ! I W'i V- rilE BATTLE AUTUMN OF ISOS, 183 Thioiigli fiost and snow and wintry rains, Speed, silent hours ! — the Nation waits, While at her feet the slave in chains. Kneels, listening for the coming fates ; And round him droops in soil and dust. The bright flag of her stripes and stais : Speed, Autumn hours ! — we wait in trust No tale of traitor lips can dim, Till Liber'ty's white hand unbars The broad gates of the glad New Year,* Unfurls our banner free and clear, And ushers Peace and Freedom in ! t ■ \ * President Lincoln's Emaucipatiin rroclamation tuok effect on the flrit Atxy of th« New Year, ISC'J. ^i^ ii; Vi i 134 /uV WAR TIME. ti 1^ ^ ■j ', i;|i^ IN WAR TIME. Into the west the day goes down, Smiling and fading into the night ; Is it a cross, or is it a crown I have worn through all these hours of light! Bending over my milk-white curds, In my dairy under the beech, Still the thought of my heart took words. And murmured itself in musical speech. And all my pans of golden cream, Set in a silver shining xow. Swam in my eyes like the shimmer aud sheen Of arms and banners, and martial show. The bee in his gold laced uniform, Drilled the ranks of clover blooms, And carried my very heart by storm, Mocking the roll of the distant drums. But something choked my singing down, Deeper than any song expressed, — IN WAR TIME, 1S5 Is it a cross, or is it a crown On my brow invisibly pressed ! Out of the east i^he star- watch shines, Lighting their camp-fires in the gray ; I count their white tents' lengthening lines, And think of those who are far away. Where the yellow globes of the orange grow In the southern fields — that slope to the sun,— Oh say, have my brothers met the foe, — Has another Shiloh been lost or won I For when the moonlight falls across The threshold of our cottage door. My heart is full of a sense of loss, As if they would return no more. Last year when the April days were fair. And the harvest fields "vere ploughed and sown, Two stalwart boys took each his sharc^ But now our father toils alone. And often at our evening prayers, With an absence I can understand, I see him look at the vacant chairs, And wipe his brow with his wrinkled hand. 13C IN WAR TIME. lit'! 1 1 •^, Beyond, Tliou art Rtranife, thou art Hweot ! " —Mr$. Browning. Dread phantom, with pale finger on thy lips, Who dost unclose the awful dooi*s for each, That ope but once, and are unclosed no more ; Turn the key gently in the mystic ward. And silently unloose the silver cord ; Lay thy chill seal of silence upon speech, And mutely beckon through the soundless door To endless night, and silence and eclipse. Even now the soul unfettered may explore On its swift wing beyond the gates of mom, (Unravelled all the weary round of years) And stand, unfenced of time and crowding space, "With love's fond instinct in that primal place, The distant northern isle where she was born ; She sees the bay, the waves' deep voice she hears, And babbles of the forms that are no more. They are the dead, long laid in foreign graves, One with his sword upon his loyal breast, .ill EUTHANASIA. 145 And one in tropio lanrls beneath the palm ; The sea rolls dark between those hemispheres, And all the long procession of the years, Since last those warm young hands she fondly pressed, And heard through mute farewells the funeral psalm, The " nevermore " of the dividing waves. The record of a life is writ between ; The new world's story supplements the old ; The heathery hills, the rapture of the morn. The fishers' huts, the chieftain's castle gray, And the smooth crescent of the land-locked bay, — These, the long hunger of the heart outworn. New scenes replace, and the once strange and cold, Become like those kept in the memory green. Cat thou hast found already that dread place, And thy lost loved ones in that unknown goal. Ere thou bast quite put off the scrip and shell. And gathered up thy feet into the bed. And closed thine eyes, the last prayers being said , Thy lips move dumbly, thy delaying soul Passes in salutation, not farewell, To ioin Mie heroes of thine ancient race. W^ w I- ' '! ' ) ! wM ■i^l 146 EUTHANASIA. It ^] ' ii Unoutlined shadow, angel of release, Whose cool hand stills the fever in the veins. And all the tumult of life's crowding cares — Ambition, envy, love and fear and hate, Hope's eager prophecies fulfilled too late, And fierce desires, and sorrows, and despairs — Thou wav'st thy mystic wand, and there remai n Sleep and forgetfulness, and utter peace. Why should we fear thy shadow at the door. Oh thou mysterious Death ? — art thou not sweet To the worn pilgrim of life's toilsome day, Who com'st at evening time, and show'st instead Of pilgrim tent, and pilgrim pallet spread, The doors of that vast cai'vansera Where all the pilgrims of the ages oeet, And rest t'^'jether, and return no more ? ^^ BALLAD OF TUB MAD LADYE. 147 BALLAD OF THE MAD LADYE. The rowan tree grows by the tower foot, {Flotsam and jetsam from over the sea, Can the dead feel joy or imin ? ) And the owls in the ivy blink and hoot, And tlie sea-waves bubble around its root, Where kelp and tangle and sea-shells be, When the bat in the dark flies silently. {Hark to the wind and tfce rain.) The ladye sits in the turret alone, (Flotsam and jetsam from over the sea. The dead — can they complain ? ) And her long hair down to her knee has grown, And her hand is cold as a hand of stone, And wan as a hand of flesh may be, While the bird in the bower sings merrily. (Hark to the wind and the rain.) Sadly she leans by her casement side (Flotsam and jetsam from over the sea, Can the dead arise again ?) And watcheth the ebbing and flowing tide. But her eye is dim, and the sea is wide ; 'if J 148 BALLAD OF THE MAD LAD YE. I !^l f 'H i i t 1 I The fisherman's sail and the cloud flies free And the bird is mute in the rowan tree {Hark to the wind and the rain.) The moon shone in on the turret stair {Flotsam and jetsam from over the sea, The dead are hound with a chain) And touched her cheek and brightened her hair, And found naught else in the world so fair, So ghostly fair as the mad ladye, While the bird in the bower sang lonesomely. {Hark to tJie wind and the rain.) The weary days and the months crept on, {Flotsam and jetsam from over the sea, The luords of the dead are vain.) At last the summer was over and gone. And still she sat in her turret alone, Her white hands clasping about her knee, And the bird was mute in the rowan tree. {Hark to the wind and the rain.) Wild was the sound of the wind and the sleet, {Flotsam and jetsam from over the sea. The dead — do they walk again?) Wilder the roar of the surf that beat ; Whose was the form that it bore to her feet Swayed with the swell of the unquiet sea, While the raven croaked in the rowan tree. {Hark to the wind and the rain.) BALLAD OF THE MAD LADYE 149 Oh Lady, strange is the silent guest — (Flotsam and jetsam cast up by the sea. Can the dead feel sorrow or pain ?) With the sea-drenched locks and the pulseless breast And the close-shut lips which thine have pressed And the wide sad eyes that heed not thee, While the raven croaks in the rowan tree. (Hark to the wind and the rain,) The tower is dark, and the doors are wide, {Flotsam and jetsam cast up by the sea, The dead are at peaxie again) Into the harbour the fisher boats ride, But two went out with the ebbing tide, Without sail, without oar, full fast and free, And the raven croaks in the rowan tree. {Hark to the wind and the rain.) 150 THE COMING OF THE KINO. <■ ill I THE COMING OF THE KING. "Othon afflicUd, tossed with tempest, and not comforted, be- hold, I will lay thy stones with fair colours, and lay thy founda- tions with sapphires. And I will make thy windows of agates, and thy gates of carbuncles, and all thy borders of pleasant stones. And all thy children shall be taught of the Lord ; and great shall be the peace of thy children." Isaiah, liv. 11-13. ^ As the sand of the desert is smitten By hoof-beats that strike out a light, A flash by which dumb things are litten, The children of night ; So Thou who of old did'st create us, Among the high gods the Most High, Strike us with Thy brightness, and let us Behold Thee, and die. j Grown old in blind anguish and travail, Thy world thou mad'st sinless and free Gropes on, with no power to unravel The clue back to Thee : Since his feet from Thy ways torn and bleeding The long march of ages began. And the gates of Thy sword "^ijuarded Eden Were closed upon man. THE COMING Of/ THE KING. 161 Fates thicken, and prophecies darken, Grown up into blossom and fruit ; And we lean in these last days to hearken The sound of Thy foot. Not now as a star-fallen stranger. By shepherds, and pilgrims adored. As couched among kine in a manger, An undeclared lord : Not now in waste wilderness places, And mountains, and wind-shaken seas. Proclaiming to strange alien races The gospel of peace ; Who rended'st the prey from the leopard, With sorrowful wounding and strife, The Priest — the Lamb slain — the Good Shepherd, The way and the life. Not the face that wept over the city Nor that with its anguish of pain In the garden, unlightened by pity Of angels or men ; Nor the suffering form, unreplying, With the chrysm of death at its lips ; Cross-uplifted, and nail-pierced, and dying In fateful eclipse : 152 TBE COMING OF THE KING. But with all heaven's glory and splendour Through the gates of the morning come down, And with thrones and dominions to render Him sceptre and crown ! With the Face beyond all men's thinking, Beholden of all men's eyes ; And the earth in its gladness diinking The light of the skies. in With the rapture of angels, the singing Of radiant choirs unknown, And the shouting of glad hosts bringing Our King to His throne ! O City of David, the Golden, That sittest in darkness so long. No longer in chains thou art holden. Break forth into song ! Arise, and upbuild thy waste places, ' Take helmet and buckler and sword, And gather from far-scattered races The tribes of the Lord ! Thy Prince shall ride onward victorious ; Full strong are his arrows and fleet ; And high shall His throne be, and glorious The place of His feet 1 !■ ;>J THE CUM I AC OF THE KINO. 153 Sot thy lips to the truiiipet, awaken The isles of the South and the North, As the trees of the forest are shaken When whirlwinds go fn-th : Like the waves of the sea, like the thunder Of armies, with jubilant voice, A multitude no man can number Shall sing and rejoice. The kingdoms beyond the great river, The uttermost isles of the sea, And peoples and tribes shall deliver Thy children to thee. Once more shall thine ensign, the Lion Of Judah, be o'er thee unfurled ; Once more shall thy gates be, Zion, Set wide to the world 1 With hands stretched in mute supplication. With longing, and weeping, and prayer, We have waited for this, thy salvation, In grief — not despair ; Till thy Lord to His temple descended, Shall comfort thee, sorrowful one, And the days of thy mourning be ended, Thy triumph begun. «Mi ■ixrtniiiiiiiiiitinni ii' I );!, 15« THE COMING OF THE KING. .,: ri if! f Till the mountains about thee assemble Lost lights of the sun-dawn, rose-rod, White splendours, that point as they tremble The path for His tread : Through the hate of our foes, and their scorn in And dumb in the darkness we wake. For the night is ir 158 MAY. i I Iff Tliou comest to the year, And bringest all things beautiful and sweet ; Thy lovely miracles themselves repeat In the green glory of the grass, And peeping flowers that stay our lingering feet With their soft eyes, blue like the sky and clear ; Thou bringest not, alas. Our lily, oui* May-blossom, New Year ! hill ■ ; » ■ ■ rl Thou bringest all things fair. And bright, and gentle, but thou bring'st not her : The May -birds warble, and May breezes stir In the sweet-scented lilac boughs ; But our one May — our gentlest minister Of gladness, with the beauty of her hair, Her place in our still house Is empty, — and the world is bleak and bare. Ttvo wiyjjows. t» TWO WINDOWS. I. One looks into tlie sun lawn, and the steep Curved slopes of hills, set sharp against the sky, Witli tufted woods encinctured, waving high O'er vales below, where broken shadows sleep. Here, looking forth before the first faint cry Of mother-bird, fluttering a drowsy wing Above her brood, awakes the full-voiced choir, Ere yet the morning tips the hills with fire, And turns the drapery of the east to gold, My wondering eyes the opening heavens behold. Where far within deep calleth unto deep, And the whole world stands hushed and worshipping. Even thus, — I muse, — shall heaven's gates unfold, When earth beholds the coming of her King. II. Phis opens on the sunset, and the sea From its high casement : never twice the same Grand picture rises in its sea-girt fram'' Islete of pearl, and rocks of porphyry m 160 TWO WINDOWS. Vil M 3 m And cliffs of jasper, touched with sunset flame, And island-trees — that look like Eden's — grow Palm-like and slender, in gradations fine, That fade and die along the horizon line, And the wide heavens become — above — below — A luminous sea without a boundary. Nay wistful heart, — at day-dawn, or at noon — Or miduight watch — the Bridegroom cometh soon 7 By yonder shining path — or pearly gate ; The word is sure, — thou therefore, watch and wait. Hi < rnB MEETING Ot .Si'JJilTS, lOi THE MEETING OF SPIRITS. L^rom ont the dark of dtiath, before the gates Flung wide, that open into paradise — More radiant than th3 white gates of the morn — A human soul, new-Lom, Stood with glad wonder in its luminous eyes ; For all the glory of that blessed place Flowed thence, and made a halo round the face — Gentle, and strong with the rapt faith that waits And faints not: sweet with hallowing pain The face was, as a sunset after rain, With a grave tender brightness. Now it turnol From the white splendours where God's glory burned, And the long ranks of quiring cherubim — Each with wing-shaded eyelids, near the thrmo, Who sang — and ceased not — the adoring hymn Of Holy, Holy ! And the cloud of smoke Went up from the waved censers, with the prayers Of saints, that wafted outward blessing-rreighted broke Around him standing at the gate alone. All down the radiant slope of golden stairs, By which he climbed so late from earth to heaven, It rolled impalpable — a fragrant cloud ; K i ill '■'■'i ■1. it 102 TJfE MEETING OF SPIRITS. And still, turned from the Alleluias loud, Jieyoiid the portal-guarding angels seven, He listened earthward, for a voice — a sound Out of the dark that spread beneath profound. No wind of God stirred in that cloudy land That bordered all the River's thither side ; To his that called no voice responsive cried, Or cleft the dark Avith Hash of answering hand. And soft the while, sheathed, as it were, within The noise of heaven's rejoicing, to him stole Beloved voices, long to earth a sole Remembered sweetness only ; sacred kept As reliquaries are that guard from sin, And wake the holy aim which else had slept. How yearned his heart to those long parted ones: 'i'ho amaranth, and the sacred flower which grew A saintly lily by the jasper wall, Making light shadows on those wondrous stones, As the wind touehea its slender stems and tall, Turned not to sunward more divinelv true, Than his most vvorshipi)ing soul to that which mad< The light of heaven. But now the nether shaain, And thy worn cheek, that keeps no travel-stain, From mid-noon labour called to thy reward ; While I, at evening, a forgotten sheaf Still left afield, in mingled trust and grief, W'aited the footsteps of our harvest Lord." I heard no more — for wave succeeding wave — A sea of intermittent music swelled and grew, ^■< ir.4 ThE MEETING or SPIRITS. And iillcd tlie dome of lioavon, all sharplj cut With spires of ^flittering crystal : all the land Throbbed with the pulse of music keen, which clave A shining path before chem : hand in hand — With their rapt fuccs toward the; throne — the two Went in together -and the gate.s were .shut. 'IH I 'I t^f ■:( GEOlihE BROWN. 165 CE( )nr;F: brown. O Loiulor fallen by tlif wayside proiu.,— O .strcjng ^reat soul «rone fortli .' ^^)l• tl.ce the wide iidiospitable north, A.ul east and west, from sea to sea make moan • And thy loved land, whose stalwart limbs and brain '••noath thy fosterin^r care have thriven and grown i o stately statnre, and ereet proud head Freedom and Right and Justice to niaiutain Here in her place inviolate. Without stain i he name and ftin.e which stood for thee in stead Of titles and dominions : all men's praise. And some men's hate thou had'st, yet dead ; O Leader, fall yet all shall weep tl ICC en mid-murc'h in tl 10 wavs Who shall fill up the measure of thy day lys .» / 166 TIDE-WATER, II m\ \-\ TIDE-WATKR. Through niany-wimHng valleys far inland, A maze among the convoluted hills, Of rocks up-piled, and pines on either hand, And meadows ribhanded with silver rills, Faiut, mingled-up, composite sweetnesses Of scented grass and clover, and the blue Wild-violet hid in muHling moss and fern, Keen and diverse another breath cleaves through, Familiar as the taste of tears to me, As on my lips, insistent, I discern The salt and bitter kisses of the sea. The tide sets up the river; mimic fieetiiessis Of little wavelets, fretted by the '.hells And shingle of the beach, circle and eddy round, And smooth themselves perpetually : there dwi'lls A spirit of pea».< in their low nmrmuring noiso Subsiding into quiet, as if life were such A struggle with inexorable bound, Brief, bright, despairing, never over-lept, Dviiiy: in such wise, with a siMiinj' voice Breathed out, iird after silence abholute. TIDEWATKIi. 107 Faith, eager hope, toil, tenrs, despair, — so mueli The conimon lot, — together over-swept Into the pitiless iinreturning sea, The vast iminitinuMc sea. I walk beside the river, and am mute Under the burden of its mystery. The cricket })ipes among the meadow grass His shrill small trumpet, (i long summer nights Sole minstrel : and the lonely heron nuvkes Voyaging slow toward her reedy nest A movint; shadow amoufj sunset lifdits Upon the river's darkening wave, which breaks. Into a thousand circling shaju'S that pass Into the one black shadow of the shore. O tranquil spiiit of pervading' rest. Brooding along the valleys with shut wings That fold all sentient and inanimate things In their entrenched calm for evermore, Save only the uncjuiet human soul ; Hearst thou the far-off sound of wav«'s tliat roll In sighing cadence, like a soul in pain, Hopeless of heaven or peace, beating in vain The shores implacable for some replies To the dumb anguish of eternal doul«t, (As I, for the sad thoughts that rise in me) : 168 TIDK ]VA TKR. i) \\ i> f Feel'st thou upon thy heavy-liddcil eyes The salt and bitter kisses of the sea ; And dost tliou draw, like me, a shuddering breath Among dusk sliadows brc oding silently ? Ah me, thou hear'st me not : I walk alone. The doubt within me, and the dark witliout ; III my sad ears, the waves' recuri-ent moan. Sounds like the surges of the sea of death, Beating for evermore the shores of time With muttered prophecies, which sorrow ^.aith Over and over, like a set slow chime Of funeral bells, tolling remote, forlorn, Dirge-lik(i the burden — " Man was made to moui n." >^^ FORGOT TEX SOXaS. 169 FORCJOTTEN SONGS. TlieiL' is a splendid tropic flower which flings Its fiery disc wide open to the core — One pulse of subtlest fragrance — once a life Thnt rounds a century of blossoming things And dies, a flower's nt»^)theosis : nevermore To send up in tli«* sunshine, in sweet strife With all the winds, a fountain of live flame, A winged censer in the starlight swung Once only, flinging all its wealth abroad To the wide deserts without shore or name And dying, like a lovely song, once sung I'y some dead poet, music's wandering ghost, .iOons ago blown out of life and lost, Romombered only in the heart of God. 170 TO riiK UAinurmi of ai/tjjou of *• violet KEiTiir TO THE DAUGHTER OF THE AUTHOR OF "VIOLET KEITH." )! 4- ! ■ ■ I- i I never looked upon tl»y face; 1 never saw thy cl\vt'lling-j)lace; My liome is by Lake Erie's shore, Beyond Niajifara's distant roar; And thine where ships at anchor ride, By fair St. Lawrence's rolling tide, With half a continent ))etween Its seas of blue, and isle.-? of green. And many a mountain's nodding crest. And man}'- a valk\v's jeweHed breast. Thou in the east, I in the west ; Yet in this ]>ook thou hast to me An individuality ; Somethinij more t{m;jible and fair Than any dream or shape of air, With more than an ideal grace, And sweeter than a pictured face : For in this book my thought recalls The garden quaint, the convent walls, And thou beneath their shadow set, A blue-eyed fr;i errant violet. TO THE DAUalJTEH OF AUTUOU OF " VJoLKT KFITIf.' m ►So for tlio liiai.Ien of tlio talo, Whuso l.mve true heart uw^U break, not fail 1 Ij yseU, my Violet J make, Aiul love tliee for thy iiiotlier's sake. IMAGE EVALUATION TEST TARGET (MT-3) y A / <" Cx L<'/ C/j (/. 1.0 I.I :.25 •'?^ illllU ■' IIIIM '': ill 40 IIM 2.2 1-4 III 1.6 p% <^ ^^ ^1 /^ 'c*l ■m ^: '//// ^ *j=' O 7 m Photographic Sdences Corporation 23 WEST MAIN STREET WEBSTER, NY. 14580 (716) 872-4503 S. iP V \\ ^/ O^ i i ms 172 A PllELUDE, A^D A BIEDS SO^'G. m 1; I I 'I I i A PRELUDE, AND A BIRD'S SONG. The poet's song, and the bird's. And the waters' that chant as they run And the waves' that kiss the beach, And the wind's — they are but one. He who may read their words, And the secret hid in each, May know the solemn inonochords That breathe in vast still places; And the voices of myriad races, Shy, and far-off from man. That hide in shadow and sun. And are seen but of him who can. To him the awful face is shown , Swathed in a cloud wind-blown Of Him, who from His secret throne, In some void, shadowy, and unknown land Comes forth to lay His mighty hand On the sounding organ keys. That play deep thunder-marches, Like the rush and the roar of seas, And fill the cavernous arches Of antique wildernesses hoary, With a long-resounding roll, A PRELUDE, AND A BIRDS SONG. As they fill man's listening soul With a shuddering sense of might and glory. Tliese he shall hear, and more than these In bird's song, and in poet's scroll ; Something underneath the whole, A music yet unbreathed — unsung — Unwritten — incommunicable ; Whispered from no mortal tongue : What seer nor prophet may rehearse In oracle, or Delphic fable, Since the old dead gods were young, And made with man their dwelling-place ; Ihit he shall hear, of all his race. The dread wherefore of life and death ; ' He shall behold the ultimates Of fears and doubts, and scorns and hates, And the sure final crown of faith. And in his ear the rythmic verse Shall sound the steps of that beyond. Serene, that hastens not, nor waits, But holds within its depths profound The mystery of all lives — all fates^» The secret of the universe. 173 174 AN APRIL DAWN. P I'' |ii ^" ill 11 AN APRIL DAWN. All night, a slow soft rain, A shadowy stranger from a cloudy land, Sighing and sobbing, with unsteady hand Beat at the lattice, ceased, and beat again. And fled like some wild startled thing pursued By demons of the night and solitude, Returning ever — wistful — timid — fain — The intermittent rain. And still the sad hours crept Within uncounted, the while hopes and fears Swayed our full hearts, and overflowed in tears That fell in silence, as she waked or slept. Still drawing nearer to that unknown shore Whence foot of mortal cometh nevermore ; And still the rain was as a pulse that kept Time as the slow hours crept. The plummet of the night ' Sank through the hollow dark that closed us round, A lamp lit gIol)e of space ; outside, the sound Of rain-drops falling from abysmal height To vast mysterious depths rose faint and far, Like a dull muflfled echo from some star -^N APRIL DAWN. Swung lilce onr own, an o.b of tea,, and ii.,.t In the unheeding night. ° Jouched the closed lattice softly, and a bi^d Hergentlehandltou.wfr^f^''' A.-bowofteaJt:;,7;.no:"'''^'°'''^^--'« <-aught from another anri n\« ' t Fixed +v. li^ ^^eavenlier dawn, ^xed-trembled~and was gone. 175