C-NRLF THE HEART OF LIFE By James Buckham IN MEMORIAM GEORGE HOLMES HOWISON ^ /"^ yw \r .. J& s /\^L&^? &*. <-?, /pmr^tr. "?*<3 t OATEN STOP SERIES VI THE HEART OF LIFE BY JAMES BVCKHAM BOSTON COPELAND AND DAY MDCCCXCVII 3 COPYRIGHT 1897 BY COPELAND AND DAY TO MY WIFE THIS LITTLE BOOK IS LOVINGLY INSCRIBED 851157 CONTENTS Page Out of the City i Old-Time Days 2 The Music of the Hounds 4 The Song in the Storm 6 Good-Night to the World 7 Summer Rain 8 The Morning Wind 8 August Twilight 10 Where the Day Begins 10 A Flower n Bo-Peep , 12 The Squirrel s Road 12 In Winter Twilight 14 Up Garret 15 The Happy Brook 17 Rain in the Woods 1 8 Beginnings 1 9 The Rose in the Wall 20 Barefoothood 2 1 The Bells of Lynn 23 Dolly Gray 24 The Wakening 24 The Old Spinnet 25 Down the Lane 26 Before the Flight 28 CONTENTS Page A Captive Bird 29 Daybreak 29 Toboganning 3 1 Blossoms in Age 3 i Hester in the Garden 32 Autumn 3 3 In Time of Youth 33 A Song of Rain 34. Inscription for a Fountain 35 An August Drive 36 A Song of Autumn 38 The Fountain in the Rain 39 The Way of Love 41 The Pilgrim s Song 42 With a Calendar 43 The Song of the Market-Place 44 A Child s Thought 47 The Measure of Life 48 Realization 48 Love s Measuring 49 The Dowager 49 The Cry of Humanity 51 The Figure- Head 52 An Old Violin 53 The Twelfth Gate 54 The Essential Thing 55 A Child of To-day 56 Truth 5 7 iv CONTENTS Page The Night- Watchman 57 Smiting the Rock 58 The Dead Brave 58 Use 59 The Wind s Way 60 Can I Forget? 61 The Broken Charge 6z Peace 64 Nearer and Dearer 65 The Child s Treasure 66 Crisis 67 The Two Flowers 68 The Universal Love 68 A Thought of Heaven 69 In Memoriam 69 The Tribute of Silence 70 THE HEART OF LIFE THE HEART OF LIFE O OUT OF THE CITY UT of the city, how blue the sky And dreamy-deep, like a maiden s eye ! Springs the grass with its vivid green ; Darts the wing with its April sheen j Purls the brook o er its pebbled bed ; Nods the flow r with its spotless head. Out of the city, how the breeze Lisps and laughs in the tossing trees, Cools its wings in the crystal lake, Borrows odor of bloom and brake ! Out of the city s smoke and soot Hasten pilgrims on wing and foot j Little birds from the parks and towers, Lads and lasses to gather flowers. Where s the heart that can answer nay To the whispered "Come!" of an April day? THE HEART OF LIFE Gh, the longing of i;atare born, To ")r-L.^h the clew and to breathe the morn, To plunge the lips in some gliding brook, And lie full length in a sunny nook ! Happy he of the childlike heart, Whom nature wins with her artless art ; Who fain of the woodland folk would be, And speak the language of brook and tree. OLD-TIME DAYS I CAN see the river gliding, as it used to long ago, Round the shoulder of the meadow where the thick-set willows grow. I can hear it purl and ripple, in a gentle lullaby, To a little barefoot dreamer gazing up into the sky. Yonder lie the brown old farm-house, crown d with chimney huge and square, And the barn beloved of swallows, with its weathercock in air. OLD-TIME DAYS I can hear the river-music blend with cow bells from the hill, And the far-off clang and rumble of the log-frame in the mill. How I loved to lie a-dreaming in the deep and quiet grass, While I watched the ghosts of noonday through the fields of heaven pass ! I was happy oh, so happy! while the purling of the stream Seemed to weave a little poem for the music of my dream ! Oh, to taste once more the pleasure that I knew in years gone by, When my heart was full of sunshine as the summer morning sky ! Oh, to feel that out-door gladness when the days were fresh and long, And the bluebird climbed to heaven on the ladder of his song ! THE HEART OF LIFE THE MUSIC OF THE HOUNDS OH ARK ! how it swells on the clear morning air, When the world is all white with the frost and the snow, And away o er the hills flies the fox or the hare, While shoulder to shoulder the streaming dogs go, All hot on the scent, with their wrinkled necks bent, And their dewlaps a-swing, and their ears sweeping low. Now lost in the hollow, now loud on the hill; Now sweeping, like faint chime of bells, through the pines ; Now veering, and nearing, and sending a thrill To the heart of the hunter, who watchful reclines, With rifle held low, and with elbow in snow, By the broken stone wall with its tangle of vines. THE MUSIC OF THE HOUNDS A shot, and a shout ! But the quarry swings round. Mark yon ! Like the wind it is climbing the slope, And the hounds, hot and baffled, are nosing the ground, And crying lost scent, like a soul without hope. But hear that wild strain ! They have found it again, And all in a bunch up the hillside they lope. Away and away goes the music divine, As clear as a bugle, as sweet as a flute. It leaps in my blood like the madness of wine, It rouses my soul with the rage of pursuit. O hounds in full tongue ! How the stale world grows young With the primitive passion that throbs in the brute ! Then ho ! for the field when December draws on, And twigs of the wildwood are silvered with frost. THE HEART OF LIFE Slip leash from old Bugler, and Trailer, and Don, And loose the hot pack where the quarry has crost. A blue winter sky, with the hounds in full cry, They ve found the wild pipes that the shepherd-god lost ! THE SONG IN THE STORM IT rains, but on a dripping bough A little bird sings clear and sweet, I think he knows not why nor how, Except that with his slender feet He feels dear nature s pulses beat. The wind up-rising stirs the tree, And fast with silver tears it weeps ; The little bird more cheerily Pipes with his tender throat, and keeps His faith in sunshine, tho it sleeps ! There swings his pretty nest below j His mate sits listening to his song. Tis love that makes her bosom glow, 6 GOOD-NIGHT TO THE WORLD Tis love that whispers, all day long, " Sleep, sleep, my nestlings, and grow strong ! " Ah, dreary sky, and dripping tree, And wind that sobbest in the wood, Know well, if anywhere love be, She hath the sunshine in her hood j For everything to love is good ! GOOD-NIGHT TO THE WORLD THE brook is unharnessed, and sleeps by the mill, The curtains are drawn, and the village is still, The last star is lit, and the whip-poor-wills call Good-night to the world, and may God bless you all ! Nine strikes the old clock at the head of the stair. I put off my clothes, and I put by my care. The air is so fragrant, the couch is so white, Sweet world, let us slumber $ God send you good-night ! 7 THE HEART OF LIFE SUMMER RAIN ASLANT, the driven rain incessant streams $ The thirsty meadows sigh with soft delight ; The wind-blown poplar shifts from green to white, And white to green, as aimlessly as dreams. Down leaps the torrent from the gurgling spout, And plunges, foam-white, in the cask. The roof Resounds with hasty drops, like hoof on hoof Of elfin horsemen a wild, cantering rout ! The windows stream and blur the world with mist. Gray Night comes creeping early from the hills, Pallid and tearful, like a child unkissed, That broods upon its little wrongs and ills. THE MORNING WIND HOW it smells of the world made new, Ferny glades that are gemmed with dew, Meadow-soil where the grass stands high, THE MORNING WIND Flowers that lift to the sun and sky Cups of crimson, and white, and blue, Brimming-sweet as the wind goes by ! How it murmurs among the trees, Full of peace as the hum of bees ! How it ripples the wayside pool, Billows the lance-grass thin and cool ; Rocks the swan at his silver ease, Sailing free, without chart or rule! How it steals from the sunrise-land, Soft of touch as a mother s hand ; Soothing the fevered brow and brain, Robbed of slumber by toil or pain j Sweet as dew to the desert sand, Grateful as show rs of summer rain ! Heart of the Father, deep and kind, Breathing forth in the morning wind, Can I question thy love, and still Taste the air on the sunrise-hill ? Nay ! in the very breeze I find Throb of love like a pulse 1 s thrill. THE HEART OF LIFE AUGUST TWILIGHT WITH downward-pointing horns the ghostly moon, Omen of drought, hangs midway of the west. The hidden locust shrills his ancient tune Of dying summer, and the cricket s din Sounds colder, as if frost had touched his breast, And strained to sharps his little violin. From tree to tree the katydid disputes, And the shrill-sounding locusts rasp their wings, And tree-toads with their hesitant soft flutes, Piping low queries, list, and pipe again. The frost-fear trembles in all creature things, And every voice seems prophecy of pain ! WHERE THE DAY BEGINS WHERE does the day begin where may it be ? Not on the mountain-tops, not on the sea ; Somewhere beyond them, somewhere before them, 10 A FLOWER Shines the sweet light, ere the morning breaks o er them, Peak that art highest, island that liest Farthest away in the purple-rimmed sea, Where does the day begin, where may it be? Out of the bosom of God comes the day, Flood of his tenderness nothing can stay ; Love that up-springing sets the world sing ing, Steeples a-shine and the silver bells ringing. Infinite motion of infinite ocean, Light but the symbol that broadens for aye, Out of the bosom of God comes the day ! A FLOWER HOW beautiful is a flower ! It is like the soul of a child Set free and growing wild In the sunshine and the shower. So fragrant, so fair, so true ! Of the spirit s texture spun, It smiles with the smiling sun, And it weeps with the weeping dew. ii THE HEART OF LIFE God loves it and why not we ? Tis a face with a soul a-shine, Tis a thought of the mind Divine, Tis a hint of the life to be. BO-PEEP LITTLE Bo-peep ! ah, where away Leads she her sheep, this summer day? Somewhere the shy little maid must be She s so nut-brown real to you and to me ! THE SQUIRREL S ROAD IT zigzags through the pastures brown, And climbs old Pine Hill to its crown, With many a broken stake and rail, And gaps where beds of ivy trail. In hollows of its mossy top The pine-cone and the acorn drop j While, here and there, aloft is seen A timid, waving plume of green, Where some shy seed has taken hold With slender roots in moss and mold. 12 THE SQUIRREL S ROAD The squirrel, on his frequent trips With corn and mast between his lips, Glides in and out from rail to rail, With ears erect and flashing tail. Sometimes he stops, his spoil laid by, To frisk and chatter merrily, Or wash his little elfin face, With many a flirt and queer grimace. Anon he scolds a passing crow, Jerking his pert tail to and fro, Or scurries like a frightened thief At shadow of a falling leaf. All day along his fence-top road He bears his harvest, load by load ; The acorn with its little hat 5 The butternut, egg-shaped and fat j The farmer s corn from shock and wain ; Cheek-pouches-full of mealy grain ; Three-cornered beechnuts, thin of shell j The chestnut, burred and armored well ; And walnuts, with their tight green coats Close buttoned round their slender throats. A busy little workman he, Who loves his task, yet labors free, Stops, when he wills, to frisk and bark, And never drudges after dark ! THE HEART OF LIFE I love to hear his chirring cry, When rosy sunrise stains the sky, And see him flashing to his toil, While frost like snow encrusts the soil. With tail above his back, he sails Along the angles of the rails, Content to gain two rods in three, And have sure highway from his tree. Dear is the old-time squirrel-way, With mosses green and lichens gray, The straggling fence, that girds the hill, And wanders through the pine woods still. I loved it in my boyhood time, I love it in my manhood s prime. Would in the corn-field I could lie, And watch the squirrels zigzag by ! IN WINTER TWILIGHT BITTER and bleak is the closing day. The wind goes wailing, the sky is gray, And there s never a bird on bough or spray. Alas, how dreary ! But summer will surely come again. The earth needs snow, and cold, and rain, Just as our hearts need grief and pain. And so be cheery ! 14 UP GARRET UP GARRET WHAT a world of fun we had, You a lass and I a lad, Up garret ! In the sweet mysterious dusk, Redolent of mint and musk, With the herbs strung overhead, And the "peppers" stiff and red, And, half-hid by dangling coin, Grandpa 1 s flask and powder-horn ! Such a store of treasures rare We were sure of finding there, Up garret ! Hats and coats of pattern quaint ; Dark old paintings blurred and faint ; Spinning-wheels, whose gossip-whir Might have startled Aaron Burr ; Old lace caps of saffron hue ; Dishes splashed with villas blue. You in trailing silk were dressed, I wore grandpa s figured vest, Up garret. So we stood up, hushed and grand, And were married, hand in hand, 15 THE HEART OF LIFE While the tall-cased clock beheld, As it doubtless did of eld, When at great-grandfather s side Stood his blushing Quaker bride. Furnished ready to our hand Was the cozy home we planned, Up garret. Chairs that any modern belle Would pronounce " antique and swell Chests and dressers that would vie With the grandest you could buy. Ah ! they didn t know it then, Save the little maids and men. All day long in childish wise We spun out life s mysteries, Up garret, In the fragrant, spicy gloom Of that dear old raftered room. Oh, that life in very truth Were but sweet, protracted youth, And we all might play our parts With unwearied, happy hearts ! 16 THE HAPPY BROOK THE HAPPY BROOK SPARKLING down the hillside, clear and cool and sweet, Singing in the shadows where the branches meet, Laughing, dancing, whirling, in each pebbly nook, What a merry fellow is the mountain brook ! What a helpful spirit in his cheery tones ! How he makes sweet music out of fretful stones ! Be it morn or midnight, be it dark or bright, Still his song is ever of his heart s delight. Thou, who growest doubtful of the great world s good, Seek this little preacher in the leafy wood ; Catch his cheerful spirit, learn his merry song; So shalt thou be happy as the day is long. THE HEART OF LIFE RAIN IN THE WOODS SILENCE first, with gloom overhead Not a stir in bush or tree ; Woodfolk all to coverts fled ; Dumb the gossip chickadee. Then a little rustling sigh ; Treetops toss, and bushes shake, And a silent wave goes by In the feathered fern and brake. Now a murmur, growing loud In the pine tops far and near ; And the woods are tossed and bowed, Like a soul in sudden fear. Hark ! the music of the rain On a thousand leaky roofs, Like an army o er a plain Galloping with silver hoofs ! Patter, patter, on the ground, Rustle, rustle in the trees ; And the beaded bushes round Drip when shaken by the breeze. BEGINNINGS Ah ! if you would nature know Close and true in all her moods, Flee not from the show r, but go Hear the raindrops in the woods ! BEGINNINGS O MIGHTY, mighty river, flowing down so deep and calm, With the mills upon thy fingers, and the ships upon thy palm ! Tell me why thou never failest, never grow- est weak and small, But with ever-swelling current bringest down thy wealth to all ? Quickly then the river answered : " Praise the little mountain spring, Ever sparkling, ever gushing, for the precious gifts I bring. " Far away among the forests, where the moss lies deep and cool, There the mill hums in a crevice, and the ship swims in a pool ! THE HEART OF LIFE THE ROSE IN THE WALL A MOSS-GROWN wall of a ruined house, Deep in tangle of weed and thorn, Undermined by the mole and mouse, Creviced crib for the squirrel s corn. In the wall, like a patch of sun, Disk of a wild rose blooming bright j Petals soft as a baby s cheek, Sweet as love when its doubt is done ; Heart of it seeming to burn and speak, Running over with first delight. See how it nods in the summer wind, Turns its face to the north and south, Kissing all with its little mouth, All so sweet to its own sweet mind ! See how it dips to the earth and sky, Loving both, though it scarce knows why ! Fresh young flower in the ruin s heart, New-born child in the arms of age, Nature s hint of a truth thou art, Poem writ on a wayside page. Ever and ever, as long as love Spins the wheel of the rolling world, BAREFOOTHOOD Out of the bosom of age and death, Bud and blossom and leaf uncurled, Child of the earth and the sun above, Life shall bloom like a dewy flower, Fresh fore er in the Father s bower. Ever and ever, as long as God Bringeth good out of pain and loss, In the mold of the leaf-strewn sod, In the wall that is dank with moss, Perished hopes that we fain would hide, Sweetly still shall the wild rose bide. Ah ! the promise will sure befall. Some time, over the ruined wall, Over decay, and death, and all Hopes and dreams that have failed and died, When the wind of his purpose blows, God shall waken a sweet new rose ! BAREFOOTHOOD HOW the mornings used to rise Just like music in the skies ! How the first breath of the day Smelled like paradise in May, And you couldn t stay in bed For the bird-songs overhead ! Ah ! how sweet life was and good, In the days of Barefoothood ! THE HEART OF LIFE Not a trouble nor a care In the whole world anywhere ! Just as light and gay and free As a bird that tops a tree j Just as pure from wilful wrong j Just as full of grateful song. Not a warbler in the wood Praises God like Barefoothood ! Simple joys, and yet how sweet ! Just the pools that laved your feet ; Just the mud between your toes ; Just the wild fruit where it grows ; Just the home-made line and hook ; Just the cool plunge in the brook ; Such as these were drink and food, In the days of Barefoothood ! Oh, the soft, cool morning dew, Ere the days of sock or shoe ! Oh, the showering, as you pass, Of the sparkling spears of grass ! Miles and miles of cobweb-lace, Morning freshness on your face, Who d forget them, if he could, Dear old days of Barefoothood ! THE BELLS OF LYNN THE BELLS OF LYNN THE night is falling ; the north wind blows, It bitterly blows over marsh and lea ; The fisher s boat tosses, the ebb-tide flows, And the curlew tilts in the spume of the sea. But far, and faint, and sweet, and thin, Oh, hear the bells from the gray old town, The ancient, red-roofed city of Lynn, That lies where the winding hills come down ! As oft as the bitter winds are blown, The smiting winds, from the fields of snow, So often the bells of Lynn float down To the dunes and the desolate wastes below. As oft as the human heart is torn By the pain of loss, by the strife with sin, So oft are the bells of heaven borne O er the sobbing wastes, like the bells of Lynn. 23 THE HEART OF LIFE DOLLY GRAY 9^ I^WAS a winding woodland way A Where I met you, Dolly Gray, And you passed me with a glance Of your hazel eyes askance. But you never blushed nor turned, While the heart within me burned. Oh ! you knew not how I yearned, Dolly Gray ! Just a year ago to-day, Since I met you, Dolly Gray ; And the slightest word I speak Paints a rose upon your cheek, As we wander neath the shade Of the winding woodland glade. What a change a year has made, Dolly Gray ! THE WAKENING HOW leaps my winter-weary heart to see The first blush in the maple-tree, Or hear, far-off, on some dull, sodden day, The robin s hopeful roundelay ! 24 THE OLD SPINET No rose that blooms to me so sweetly smells As the March odor of the dells, The loamy fragrance of the farmer s field, By April s alchemy unsealed. Oh ! it is good to be alive in spring, And share the brown earth s wakening ; To feel the thrill of primitive delight In all that s new-born, fresh, and bright ! THE OLD SPINET IT is slim and trim and spare, Like the slender Lady Claire In the gowns they used to wear, Long ago 5 And it stands there in the gloom Of the gabled attic room, Like a ghost whose vacant tomb None may know. I can see the lady s hands, White as lilies, as she stands Strumming fragments of Durand s On the keys j And I hear the thin, sweet strain THE HEART OF LIFE Of the Plymouth hymns again, Like the sob of windless rain In the trees. She would play the minuet For the stately-stepping set, While the ardent dancers met, Hands and hearts j Did the old-time spinet care, If Dan Cupid unaware Pricked the breasts of brave and fair With his darts ? Now the spiders with their floss Up and down the keyboard cross, And the strings are dull as dross, Once so bright. No one cares to touch the keys, Stain 1 d old yellow ivories, Save the ghosts some dreamer sees In the night. DOWN THE LANE DOWN the lane, oh ! down the lane, in the days of long ago, How the lilacs, white and purple, and the hawthorn used to blow ; 26 DOWN THE LANE And the dandelions, hiding in the matted, velvet grass, Seemed like little pools of sunshine, fit to splash in as you pass. Oh ! the summer morns and evenings, when the lazy, lowing cows Let you dream your boyish daydreams, while they idly stopped to browse. What a low, mysterious music in the elm trees overhead, Till the oriole translated, and you knew just what they said. Underneath the arch of verdure you could see the distant hills, And the lake that lapped their bases, and the smoking iron-mills 5 And your dream, perhaps, changed swiftly from the bird -song and the sky To the money-making city, and the boy of by-and-by. But I know, the whole world over, where- soe er a heart beats true, That the man you dreamed of being, always dreams of being you. 27 THE HEART OF LIFE Oh ! how glad he d be to empty all his gold- bags in the lane, If they d bring the dandelions and the boy- heart back again. BEFORE THE FLIGHT TOST by the wind on the topmost spray, Blue of the wing against blue of the sky, Poising bird, that could st spring and fly, What to the tree-top holds thee, say, Clinging there, while the wind goes by ? Very joy of the power of flight, Very thrill of the folded wing ! Now now now I will forthward spring, Nay, but now ! Oh, the rare delight , Just to poise on a spray and sing ! Sweet withholding of sure and best, Pause and sigh ere the spicy draught, Full, and utter, and deep, is quaffed, Oh, the joy of it ! have I guessed ? Art thou skilled in this subtle craft ? 28 DAYBREAK A CAPTIVE BIRD NO more to dip and glide In the sunlit depths and spaces wide ! No more on nodding spray To toss and sing, all the summer day ! Poor little prisoned thing, With skies shut up in thy folded wing, Meet is thy broken song How sweet life was, ere it went so wrong ! DAYBREAK DAYBREAK ! daybreak ! bright grows the east at last ; Bells ringing, birds singing, sun in the dew- drop glassed j Leaves shaking, kine waking, soft sounds from field and wood Look up, my weary heart ! morn s here, and God is good ! New skies and blue skies cheer, heart ! another day Lights on the changing world. Up ! strive ! whilst strive thou may. 29 THE HEART OF LIFE What though the past went wrong ? What though the night were long ? Wake, wake, my weary heart ! new be thy hope and song. Daybreak ! daybreak ! Thank God for veil ing night, Sleep s sweet forgetfulness, setting the sad world right. Thank God for birds and bells; "Cheer! cheer ! " they seem to say. " All that is past, is past ; life is newborn each day." Sparkle of beamy dew, deep skies so clear and blue, God smiling on the world, light me to labor true ! Help me to strive with zeal, strive, though my star go down, Sure that, while mornings rise, some day my task shall crown. BLOSSOMS IN AGE TOBOGGANING WITH tip curled like a withered leaf Down sliding when the days are chili, My light toboggan skims the snow That crusts the forest-bordered hill. I gasp, as from the hilltop bare We launch like eagle from a cliff, And plunge a thousand feet in air. But she, my sport-mate, drinks the gale In careless, rosy, wild delight. To-morrow is her wedding-day, And all the world is drest in white ! BLOSSOMS IN AGE YON is an apple-tree, Joints all shrunk like an old man s knee, Gaping trunk half eaten away, Crumbling visibly day by day ; Branches dead, or dying fast, Topmost limb like a splintered mast. Yet behold, in the prime of May, How it blooms in the sweet old way ! 3 1 THE HEART OF LIFE Heart of it brave and warm, Spite of many a wintry storm, Throbbing still with the deep desire, Burning still with the eager fire, Striving still with the zeal and truth Of the gladsome morning days of youth. Still to do and to be, forsooth, Something worthy of Him whose care Summer or winter failed it ne er j This is motive for you and me, When we grow old like the apple-tree. HESTER IN THE GARDEN FRINGED with stately gentian stalks, Cut in strips by narrow walks, Mistress Hester s garden lies, Prim as Quaker paradise. Not a blossom pert and gay ! Sober phlox and caraway, Modest violet and pea, Keep Miss Hester company. Morn and eve, in soft gray gown, Walks she slowly up and down, With her eyes upon the page Of some quaint old saint and sage. 3* IN TIME OF YOUTH What a picture (did she know) Of the simple Long-ago ! How her very garments stir With the scent of lavender ! AUTUMN THE crimson ivy veins the stone Of chapel walls, and, sere and brown, The leaves along the path are strewn, Or through the still air flicker down. The sky is dim and dreamful soft, The hills are gray with veiling haze, The scant brook murmurs through the croft, And seems to sing of other days. Good-by, sweet summer ! and good-by, My own sad spray and vanished rose. I care not now how soon ye lie Beneath the soft, forgetful snows. IN TIME OF YOUTH WE had God s sunshine for our drink, And all the things of earth were sweet. The very stars, we used to think, Were candles set to light our feet. 33 THE HEART OF LIFE To ramble through the whisp ring wood, To lie in tents of bending grass Oh ! things like these seemed highest good, When you and I were lad and lass. I would the spell were never spent ; I would that we were young to-day, And through the fields a-singing went, To toss and tumble in the hay ! A SONG OF RAIN THE cuckoo scurries to and fro j From green to white the maples blow ; The longed-for rain is coming ! Set every tub beneath its spout, For there ll be little stirring out, When all the roofs are drumming. Forth creeps the thirsty, wrinkled toad ; The dust goes whirling down the road ; The slender birches shiver. Uncertain little flurries break The glassy surface of the lake, And scud across the river. Now darker grows the drifting sky, And robin, with a startled cry, Wheels round his roofless dwelling. 34 INSCRIPTION FOR A FOUNTAIN The trees begin to toss and lash ; Far off there gleams a forked flash, Followed by thunder s swelling. Hark ! tis the rustle of the drops Among the tossing maple-tops, The first cool dash and patter. The air grows wondrous soft and sweet With smell of woods, and grass, and wheat, And marshes all a-spatter. Now thunders down the mighty flood, That makes the road a creek of mud, And sets the eaves to spouting. Hurrah ! The silver ranks have come, With tempest-fife, and thunder-drum, And noisy torrents shouting ! /INSCRIPTION FOR A FOUNTAIN I POUR perpetual cups as sweet As nature s heart. Come, maidens, bring Your cool brown jars, and fill, and sing. Come, lads, your true-loves, haply, meet. The world is fair, the light is kind ; Forever will I leap, and laugh, And kiss the happy lips that quaff, And toss my silver on the wind. 35 THE HEART OF LIFE AN AUGUST DRIVE DO you remember, brown eyes, blue eyes, The drive we took to Brandon town, In the dreamy haze of that August day, While the bells of clover beside the way, So sweet, so sweet, tossed up and down ? Do you remember, brown eyes, blue eyes, The drive we took to Brandon town ? All about us the air was a-swoon With the brimming wine of midsummer noon, And the August pipers clear and shrill Sang chirr, chirr, chirr, like a shepherd s tune On his oaten pipe, from the greenwood hill. The sky was soft with a silv ry mist ; The birds in the leafy groves were whist ; W^ith glint and gleam ran the winding stream ; And the woodbine blushed like a maiden kist. Neck to neck ran the shining bays, And on we flew by cot and croft j 36 AN AUGUST DRIVE The hills loomed up through the silver haze ; The air blew sweet, and warm, and soft. Far blazed the ranks of the golden-rod ; The gentian bloomed by the mossy wall ; And the daisies, white as the thoughts of God, Smiled by the wayside, the fairest of all. Do you remember the river-road, O er-arched with elms, where the silent tide Went shining and slipping along beside The banks of fern, and the lilies wide, Like golden cups, in the water glowed ? Oh, there we sang to the lilting string, To the river s sweep, and the elm-trees swing. In and out, by nook and bend, We swiftly whirled, till the steepled town Out of its hillside grove looked down, And our drive to Brandon was at an end. But oft as midsummer comes again, With its wealth of purple and white and gold, Its roadside splendors, its ripening grain, And odors drifting from field and wold, I shall think of that drive to Brandon town, 37 THE HEART OF LIFE With the eyes of blue and the eyes of brown ; For love s sweet longing forever haunts, And the wine of life is a maiden s glance. A SONG OF AUTUMN HO for the bending sheaves, Ho for the crimson leaves Flaming in splendor ! Season of ripened gold, Plenty in crib and fold, Skies with a depth untold, Liquid and tender. Far, like the smile of God, See how the golden-rod Ripples and tosses ! Yonder, a crimson vine Trails from a bearded pine, Thin as a thread of wine Staining the mosses. Bright neath the morning blue Sparkles the frosted dew, Gem-like and starry. Hark how the partridge cock 38 THE FOUNTAIN IN THE RAIN Pipes to his scattered flock, Mindful how swift the hawk Darts on his quarry ! Autumn is here again Banners on hill and plain Blazing and flying. Hail to the amber morn, Hail to the heaped-up corn, Hail to the hunter s horn, Swelling and dying ! THE FOUNTAIN IN THE RAIN IN the rain The silver fountain leaps, And scatters its drops like grain. Why does the fountain play In the throbbing flood of the mighty rain, Beating the plain ? Why does the fountain try To equal the sky, While the storm impetuous sweeps, And the earth is full of the mighty deeps r Tell me, why does the soul Hope and strive evermore, 39 THE HEART OF LIFE Baffled, out-done, forgotten, full Of the pangs and failures of yore ? Tell me why unto God It lifts up its face again, Lifts up the hands that failed in the strife, Lifts up the faded garlands of life, Kisses the rod, Welcomes the pain, And is fain, Though all its dreaming is o er? So shall I answer thee Why the fountain leaps in the rain, Though the earth is full of the sea. 40 WITH MEN AND WOMEN THE WAY OF LOVE I TO one came woman s love unsought, The captive eye, the tender thought, The cheek by tyrant blushes caught. As surely, sweetly, as the rose Lifts up its face and sunward blows, To him did beauty s heart unclose. Oh, his to love by royal right ! Oh, his, of all earth s maidens white, To choose the priestess of delight ! What did he with love s magic rod ? He smote the sweetest flower of God, And in the mire its whiteness trod. II The other had no outward grace ; He lacked the charm of form and face Which youth and beauty love to trace. But, oh ! throughout him, swift and sweet, To very tips of hands and feet, Great heart of troth and yearning beat. 4 1 THE HEART OF LIFE Divine the hunger of his eye. " O God ! to love before one die ! " Sad prayer, that never knew reply. Oh, strange, strange, strange ! yet why arraign ? All wonders else in earth explain, But set no laws to love s rare pain. THE PILGRIM S SONG I MET a pilgrim on the way, And thus I heard him sing, and say : " No life without its joy and pain, No day without its sun and rain, No deed without its loss and gain ; So let s be happy while we may, Sing hey ! This was the burden of his lay. " But there s a difference, be sure," I cried, " between the rich and poor ! " The pilgrim smiled, and thus he spake : "What toils and cares do riches make, And then what sudden wings they take ! Nay, gold is but a shining lure, Sing hey ! " This was the burden of his lay. 42 WITH A CALENDAR " And yet, 11 quoth I, "of grief and care, Some folk a double portion bear." " Then also double joy ! " cried he ; " For when their burdens drop, you see, They go so wondrous light and free, It seems like walking on the air, Sing hey ! " Still was the burden of his lay. WITH A CALENDAR LO ! these unrisen days, What shall they bring to thee, to me ? God grant, the joy of kindred ways, The love that binds and yet makes free, The piety that toils and prays. O God ! for this New Year Of sweet, new hope we thank Thee. Make Our path of love and duty clear. Watch o er us, sleeping or awake, And draw our hearts to Thine more near. 43 THE HEART OF LIFE THE SONG OF THE MARKET PLACE GAY was the throng that poured through the streets of the old French town ; The walls with bunting streamed, and the flags tossed up and down. Vive I 1 roil Vive troil^ the shout of the people rent the air, And the cannon shook and roared, and the bells were all a-blare. But, crouched by St. Peter s fount, a beggar with her child, Weary, and faint, and starved, with eyes that were sad and wild, Gazed on the passing crowd, and cried, as it went and came " Alms, for the love of God ! Pity, in Jesu s name ! " Few were the coins that fell in the little cup she bore, But she looked at her starving babe, and cried from her heart the more " Alms, for the love of God ! Mother of Jesu, hear ! " 44 SONG OF THE MARKET-PLACE The steeples shook with bells, and the prayer was drowned in a cheer. But see ! through the thoughtless crowd comes one with a regal face, He catches the beggar s prayer, and turns with a gentle grace j " Alms thou shalt have, poor soul ! Alas, not a sou to share ! But stay ! " And he doffs his hat and stands in the crowded square. Then from his heart he sang a little song of the south, A far-off cradle song, that fell from his mother s mouth ; And the din was hushed in the square, and the people stood as mute As the beasts in the Thracian wood, when Orpheus touched his lute. The melting tenor ceased, and a sob from the listeners came. "Mario!"" cried a voice, and the throng caught up the name. " Mario!" and the coins rained like a shower of gold, 45 THE HEART OF LIFE Till the singer s hat overflowed like Midas 1 chests of old. " Sister," he said, and turned to the beggar crouching there, " Take it ; the gold is thine ; Jesu hath heard thy prayer ; Then kissed the white-faced child, and smiling went his way, Gladdened with loving thoughts and the joy of holiday. That night, when the footlights shone on the famous tenor s face, And he bowed to the splendid throng with his wonted princely grace, Cheer after cheer went up, and, stormed at with flowers, he stood Like a dark and noble pine, when the blos soms blow through the wood. Wilder the tumult grew, till out of his fine despair The thought of the beggar rose, and the song he had sung in the square. Raising his hand, he smiled, and a silence filled the place, 46 A CHILD S THOUGHT While he sang that simple air, with the love- light on his face. Wet were the singer s cheeks, when the last note died away ; Brightest of all his bays, the wreath that he won that day ! Sung for the love of God, sung for sweet pity s sake, Song of the market-place, tribute of laurel take. A CHILD S THOUGHT O LARGE, perplexed eyes ! What thought within you lies Beyond all reach ? Some truth in heaven heard, That finds on earth no word Can give it speech ? I question, but in vain ! The child s a child again, On toys intent. Back from the mystic land, He cannot understand The thing I meant. 4-7 THE HEART OF LIFE And yet and yet I know There flashes to and fro Across his soul Some thought, whereto he heeds ; And carts and wooden steeds Forget to roll. THE MEASURE OF LIFE TEN years a gracious Heaven gives To make man conscious that he lives. Then twenty years of ardors sweet, And hopes that dance with winged feet. Another score to strive and weep, And bind youth s dreams with gyves of sleep. And last the harvest-twenty come. Reap, bind, and take the pathway home. REALIZATION SOMETIMES there comes a taste sur passing sweet Of common things, the very breath I take ; 48 THE DOWAGER A draught from some cool spring amid the brake ; The wheaten crust that I in hunger eat. So I have thought that heaven, perhaps, is just The uttermost perception of all good, The spiritual rapture of this zest, refined ; An exquisite new taste of friendship, food, The joys of love, the odors in the wind, And all that now seems deadened by our dust. I LOVFS MEASURING SAID in my doubting heart, lt Our lives are set oceans apart." Then Love took his measuring-wand, And lo ! neither sea was nor land ! THE DOWAGER GIRLS about her in a flock, Like roses round a hollyhock ; Laughter, motion, gliding grace, Youth s fresh lustre in a face, All the things that sweetest were Yonder sits the dowager. 49 THE HEART OF LIFE Bravely still she smiles, indeed ; Placid in her cap and weed, Plies the lorgnette left and right With a hand still lily-white. Ah ! but the pinch d heart of her Poor old wistful dowager ! Once for her the starry lights And the waltzes birdlike flights ; Once a bosom all a-throb, Sigh of rapture like a sob ; Wafts of violet and myrrh Poor old dreaming dowager ! Snow-whirl of white drapery, Laces like the wind-whipt sea, Feet that mocked the swallow s wing, Ever lightly vanishing $ Heart and soul with joy astir Such was once the dowager. Now she fain remembers all While the waltzes rise and fall, And the subtle, soft perfume Hovers ghostlike in the room. Perished hopes and fancies stir Poor old wrinkled dowager ! 5 THE CRY OF HUMANITY Better would she be, I trow, Where the quiet hearth-coals glow, And the seer s lofty page Rears a temple fit for age. Nay ? her moon-dead youth for her ? Frivolous old dowager ! THE CRY OF HUMANITY I " TTARK ! heard you wailing of A JL voices, Yonder, far off, in the night ? " * Nay, twas the wind hoarsely shouting, Tossing the pines on the height." " Stay I hear treble of children, Tremulous, piercing with pain. 11 * Peace ! tis the tribe of the marshes, Pleading with heaven for rain." " Nay but list ! women are sobbing, Beating their breasts as they moan." " Hush ! tis the lake in the valley, Pulsing on shingle and stone." THE HEART OF LIFE II Deep in the soul of the listener Voices are murmuring still, Neither the waves , nor the marshes , Nor the wild wind s on the hill. Deeper his spirit is harking ; Under the symbol and sign, Hears he the meaning that shapes it, - Thy pleading, brother, and mine ! Up from the world, blindly spinning, Rises humanity s cry. Nature but echoes it dumbly Hear it, O Father on high ! THE FIGURE-HEAD SPHINX-LIKE, she tow rs above the pier In this storm-sheltered busy stead, With face so stern and cameo-clear The carven lady figure-head. The sea is crusted on her hair ; The waves have stained her brow and breast ; 5* AN OLD VIOLIN Her eyes the storm and night are there, Defiance, and a wild unrest. Forthward she leans, as if to breast The howling tempest, surge, and sleet ; Her wonted path the midnight wave, That breaks in fire about her feet. What awful depths her eyes have seen, And lurking monsters of the vast ; What death s-hair in the waters green, And pale, drowned faces floating past ! Alien to her this slimy quay, The reeking harbor dead and gray. Oh for the broad blue sky and sea, The glory of the flying spray ! AN OLD VIOLIN BEHOLD this rare Cremona ! Master it, Twill sing you pure as angels. But to hands Unskilled, tis but for mantel-rubbish fit ; Old, worth so much 5 one reads, and understands ! 53 THE HEART OF LIFE "Twas wont to shake men s hearts, as when the wind Sets all the leaves a-quiver. Now it lies With all its sweet soul laid and undivined ; Priced at so much ; a soul for sale ! Who buys ? One says tis scratched and ugly, gumm d and stained ; He can buy handsomer for less. No doubt ! Another spies a crack, or real, or feigned ; A third notes fraud, is pleased to point it out. Ah, well ! endure, thou master s child ! Ev n so Are noble spirits carped at, all unknown, While in their hearts divinely swell and flow Those harmonies that genius hears alone. THE TWELFTH GATE HEAVEN has twelve gates. I may not enter where The white-robed victors march from cross and pyre, Nor yet with those in spotless pure attire, 54 THE ESSENTIAL THING Who caught no taint from earth s sin-laden air. I may not come with those who bravely bare The crucifixion of their life s desire, Or carried all their days embosomed fire, Or battled with a black and fierce despair. Nor great, nor noble, nor enduring, I No martyr, soldier, or enthusiast, But one whose life, in peaceful habit fast, Reflects God s love as lakes reflect the sky. O God ! may I behold thy face at last, Among thy children who lived duteously. THE ESSENTIAL THING ALL the world s writing, sure, is but a glass Wherein each mortal sees himself; and ihough Before ten thousand books my spirit pass, Not one shall change me from the thing I know. Yet in the great I Am both thou and I, Thinking diversely as the sunbeams shine, 55 THE HEART OF LIFE Find our eternal, perfect harmony, One pattern evermore of truth divine. Therefore I preach a simple faith, and say, Cover with love our widest variance. Let him believe, whose idol is of clay. All else is only mode and circumstance. A CHILD OF TO-DAY O CHILD, had I thy lease of time ! Such unimagined things Are waiting for that soul of thine to spread its untried wings ! Shalt thou not speak the stars, and go on journeys thro the sky ? And read the soul of man as clear as now we read the eye ? Who knows if science may not find some art to make thee new To mend the garments of thy flesh when thou hast worn them through ? Tis fearful, aye, and beautiful, thy future that may be. How strange ! perhaps death s conqueror sits smiling on my knee ! 56 THE NIGHT-WATCHMAN TRUTH D rather be a violet, and be blue, . Than be a man, and to myself untrue. THE NIGHT-WATCHMAN EACH night I ten times pace my wonted round, To see that all is well. At first the air Stirs with the throb of life ; then, here and there, The cheery lights die out ; without a sound, The little city sleeps from bound to bound. I, I alone, my glancing lantern bear, And watch the clouds that stream like hoary hair Across the stars, and walk my plot of ground. Now, just before the dawn, strange throbs of white Beat upward to the zenith, and the sky Expands and quivers. Then with awe I feel The moving of God s presence in the night 5 And all the stars like spirits seem to wheel Above me in the spaces black and high. 57 THE HEART OF LIFE SMITING THE ROCK SHALT thou not smite the desert rock too? Yea, if thou wilt if thou smite the rock through ! Let then the miracle pass at its worth : Legend or gospel, what matters ? The earth Hath its sweet waters deep down. If the rod Or the bar bring it up, what matters with God? Art thou not prophet nor leader ? What then ? Smite ! Become prophet ! Thus God exalts men. Smite first, strive first ; let us see what avails. T is trying succeeds, tis refusal that fails. Delve down, if thou must, through the flint iest stuff. So the water springs forth, thou art prophet enough ! THE DEAD BRAVE OW and arrows by his side, ^Soft and tawny panther s hide, Food for journey to the bound 58 USE Of the Happy Hunting Ground, So they laid him in his grave, Stern, bronze, silent Indian brave. Many a winter spread its tent, Many a summer came and went. Higher than the squirrel s home Rose the gleaming spire and dome. And above those savage bones Modern men heaped costly stones. Then the fire-fiend had his way. And ( twas only yesterday), Delving at the ruin s heart, Back I saw the workmen start, As the sleeping warrior s dust Crumbled at the mattock s thrust ! USE HERE in the world is a place For everything God has wrought, From the flower, with its wee white face, To the soul that can think God s thought. No bird, with its callow breast, Is loosed from the shell it wore, 59 THE HEART OF LIFE But finds in the sheltering nest God s thought of it, long before. And I, of so little worth That I seem like a barren vine, Shall I think that in all the earth No place and no use are mine ? Nay, nay ! Let the blade of grain One more in the crowded sod, Yet nourished by sun and rain Speak a truer thought of God. THE WIND S WAY THE wind of God swept through a gar den fair, And stript the queenly rose of half its leaves. The rose of roses and the gardener s care The wind of God made bare, And all the garden grieves. O wind ! why didst thou pass the pale wild rose, That swings and suns against the outer wall, 60 CAN I FORGET To take the fairest of the flowery close, The sweetest bud that blows, The rose beloved of all ? Alas ! the wind s way is a strange, wild way, And whence, or why, or whither, who can know ? Unseen, it wanders forth both night and day, And who shall bid it stay, That God has bidden blow ? CAN I FORGET? CAN I forget ? The moon was forest- high, And made a golden path above the trees. We sat us down, and there was no sound nigh, Except the breeze. And so we bode in silence, inly yearning ; For neither knew, nor dared love s knowl edge yet 5 But ever unto thine my face was turning Can I forget ? Can I forget ? Ah, Love, twas but a word About some trivial thing that broke the spell j 61 THE HEART OF LIFE But what thou saidst, Sweetheart, and what I heard, I may not tell. I only know that on my bosom sinking, I feel that sudden, fragrant burden yet, And of thy lips my lips are madly drinking Can I forget ? THE BROKEN CHARGE ould you hear of the bravest, coolest deed Was ever inspired by a nation s need ? W deed Thomas McBurney Kansas-bred Scot Lay in his rifle-pit, waiting a shot. Over him whistled the enemy s balls, Ping and they sank in the fortress walls. Suddenly out of the woods there broke A line of cavalry, gray as smoke. A troop a regiment a brigade ! God ! what a rush and a roar they made ! A wild, swift charge on the frail redoubt, Carbines ready and sabres out. 6z THE BROKEN CHARGE Hither and thither, like frightened hares, Fled the sharpshooters out of their lairs. All save Thomas McBurney. He Thought not first what his fate might be. Uppermost thought in his hero-soul, To save the fortress clean and whole ! On they thundered, the cavalcade. McBurney waited j his plan was made. Fifty yards from his cairn of rocks Up he rose, like a Jack-in-the-box. Bang ! and the leader s horse went down, Neck outstretched in the wire-grass brown. Over him tumbled a dozen more ; And the colonel his heart and his head were sore ! " Halt ! " he cried ; and the broken line Stopt, strung out like a trailing vine. Lo ! in the valley s dim expanse, Tossing flags and bayonets glance ! 63 THE HEART OF LIFE Reinforcements ! At double quick They cross the meadows and ford the creek : Boys in blue, with their banners bright Just in season to turn the fight. Thomas McBurney, as cool as you please, Settled down on his dust-grimed knees. To pray ? Yes, thankfully ! and to run A well-greased cartridge into his gun. PEACE THE golden age of peace has come on earth ! Lo, in the blood-stained fields the lilies bloom, And softly on the alien soldier s tomb Is laid the wreath that owns his manly worth. No more, thank God ! the cannon thunders forth, Or sabre flashes in the smoke and gloom. Peace, Peace ! for snowy-mantled Peace make room, And Love, that in the heart of God had birth. 64 , NEARER AND DEARER Henceforth let children on the bastions play, And wild-flowers blossom in the cannon s throat. Let every banner over brothers float ; Let bitter memories be washed away. Rise, Star of Love, on every land to-day, And bugles blow the sweet evangel note ! NEARER AND DEARER NEARER and dearer are the blessed dead Than we are wont to think, When with farewells and tears we bow the head Beside that solemn brink. Tell me, thou child of grief canst thou not see With clearer eyes than then ? Tell me if love thy love can ever be A thing of earth again ? O eyes that God hath cleansed with sacred tears ; O hearts by sorrow tuned ! Ye see and love as never all those years, While ye with flesh communed. 65 THE HEART OF LIFE And are they not then nearer, whom we see With eyes no longer blind ? And is not love the sweeter, if it be Of an immortal kind ? Oh, comforting, sweet thought that though we stand On death-divided shores, Love still can stretch to us its angel hand, And lay its heart on ours ! THE CHILD S TREASURE LITTLE child at play, Sell me your To-day ! I will give you gold More than you can hold ; Ships with silken sails, Steeds with ribbon 1 d tails, Dolls with eyes of blue, Limpid as the dew ; Lambs on painted wheels, To trundle at your heels ; Blocks for houses tall, Hoop, and kite, and ball, And a magic silver top That will spin and never stop ! 66 CRISIS Will you do it? "Yea! Cries the child at play. Oh ! if you but knew, Eager eyes of blue, What a gift divine You d exchange for mine Keep it it is worth More than all the earth ! CRISIS AS when some watcher of the skies, Whom many sleepless nights have worn, Falls prone upon his bench, and lies Outstretched, by slumber overborne ; Meanwhile some splendid argent mass, For ages out of mortal ken, Moves slowly o er his object-glass, And fades away in space again : So come the crises of our lives When least foreseen. In sleep we lie What time the pregnant star arrives That makes, or mars, our destiny. 67 THE HEART OF LIFE THE TWO FLOWERS THERE grow in the garden of life Two flowers, our souls to prove The passionate rose of Self, And the spotless lily of Love. We never can have them both ; One flower for each of us blows. We choose the lily for aye, Or forever we choose the rose. THE UNIVERSAL LOVE WERE man s soul an outcast thing, Every thought a raven wing Resting not on roof or hill, Love would overtake it still. For I know one strong desire Binds the stars in chains of fire, Thrills this universal frame With the magic of its name : Love ! Who journeys to the shore Where its power is felt no more ? Hell, though it were walled with brass, Lifts its gates to let Love pass. 68 IN MEMORIAM A THOUGHT OF HEAVEN OF all the thoughts of heaven the sweet est this, I say To have sometime, somewhere, the things on earth foregone, The precious gifts of God we blindly put away, The days whose fleeting light was wasted at the dawn. The things we might have done, to do, sometime, somewhere, Our best, our truest selves in that new life to be Oh ! that were sweetest heav n, I think, or here, or there, Enough for sons of God, enough for you and me ! IN MEMORIAM SHE was too good for chiselled praise, That time overspreads with moss. On stone as spotless as her days Carve but the holy cross. 69 THE HEART OF LIFE THE TRIBUTE OF SILENCE A POET read his verses, and of two Who listened, one spake naught but open praise ; The other held his peace, but all his face Was brightened by the inner joy he knew. Two friends, long absent, met j and one had borne The awful stroke and scathe of blind ing loss. Hand fell in hand ; so knit they like a cross ; With no word uttered, heart to heart was sworn. A mother looked into her baby s eyes, As blue as heav n and deep as nether sea. By what dim prescience, spirit-wise, knew she Such soul s exchanges never more would rise ? Oh deep is silence deep as human souls, Aye, deep as life, beyond all lead and line } And words are but the broken shells that shine Along the shore by which the ocean rolls. 70 THE FIRST EDITION OF THIS BOOK CONSISTS OF FIVE HUNDRED COPIES WITH THIRTY- FIVE ADDITIONAL COPIES ON HAND-MADE PAPER PRINTED DURING APRIL 1896 BY THE ROCKWELL AND CHURCHILL PRESS OF BOSTON - <> ^ ^ -H?C s g o O^ ;3 "V* | * 5 rn II 2 I v* a c m sits PI "5 C a CO ^ m gg ro^ ^ ^ ^ to ^ ^ Oi ro Q r- CO 8 "lx 5 = CO 3 (B o~co ~*c -H *< o_ rT1 o~2 g (D >< D m Q TJ g o~^ U ^< p- m Q ~" CD f -c a a> ( 9. m ^ ^. -^ < O ^ 09 D_ n *l> m O Q " Q -n IT 2 "^ w> (D ^3 5 o gvi o CO c c ^ S-l CD Q CD 851 157 UNIVERSITY OF CALIFORNIA LIBRARY