ff) 8 The Poems of Frank Dempster Sherman CDttion THE POEMS OF FRANK DEMPSTER SHERMAN EDITED WITH AN INTRODUCTION BY CLINTON SCOLLARD HOUGHTON MIFFLIN COMPANY COPYRIGHT, 1887, 1890, 1892, 1897, AND 1904, BY FRANK DEMPSTER SHERMAN COPYRIGHT, 1917, BY JULIET DURAND SHERMAN ALL RIGHTS RESERVED THIS EDITION, PRINTED AT THE RIVERSIDE PRESS CAMBRIDGE, IS LIMITED TO ONE THOUSAND COPIES OF WHICH THIS IS NUMBER CONTENTS INTRODUCTION xv MADRIGALS AND CATCHES DEDICATION TO MY FATHER 2 FANCY 3 MORNING MIST 4 DAWN AND DUSK 4 SUMMER 6 INDIAN SUMMER 7 THE ICE-PRISONER 8 FEBRUARY 9 THE MARCH WIND 9 AN APRIL CAROL 10 IDYLLIC II A GLOW-WORM 12 IN AN OLD GARDEN 12 WITH A ROSE 13 TO A DAISY 14 ON SOME BUTTERCUPS . . . . . . ... .15 TO A DANDELION v . . 15 APPLE BLOSSOMS 16 A ROSE LYRIC i? "PANSIES FOR THOUGHTS" . . 18 NOBILITY 18 A BUNCH OF QUATRAINS 18 A QUATRAIN 18 A RED ROSE ip APRIL 19 BACCHUS 19 A LYRIC 20 [ V] 48885 :! CONTENTS A CATCH 21 A SNARE 22 A MADRIGAL 23 A BETROTHAL 24 A PERSIAN DANCING GIRL 24 A MADRIGAL 25 THE BOOK-HUNTER 27 AT THE DOOR 28 A REMINISCENCE 29 LOVE S SEASONS 31 AN AVOWAL 32 IN PARENTHESIS 34 TO MY MESSAGE 35 A CIGAR 36 A BUNDLE OF LETTERS . 38 A RHYME FOR PRISCILLA . . 40 A PERSIAN NOCTURNE . . 43 HER GUITAR 43 THE MUSE . . . . .45 FOR SAYNTE VALENTYNE, HIS DAYE 47 TO CUPID, FEBRUARY 14 48 ENGAGED 49 A LYRIC . 51 AN UNTUTORED MIND . 52 THE VILLAGE SCHOOL 53 A COLONIAL MISSIVE . 56 GOOD-NIGHT 58 SONNETS 59 BREEZES OF MORNING 59 A PACIFIC DAWN 59 A BUTTERFLY IN WALL STREET 60 THE DANCING GYPSY 61 STRATEGY 61 RE-AWAKENING 62 [ vi ] CONTENTS MISS THOMAS S "A NEW YEAR S MASQUE" .... 63 FRENCH FOLLIES 64 COME, PAN, AND PIPE 64 WHEN TWILIGHT COMES 64 AN OLD RONDO 65 BEHIND HER FAN 66 HER CHINA CUP 66 TO CUPID 67 "AWAKE, AWAKE!" 68 TO MY LOVE 68 VALENTINE TO AN ANONYMOUS MISS 69 A COQUETTE 71 A SWELL 72 OF RHYME 73 TO AUSTIN DOBSON 74 LYRICS FOR A LUTE FANCY 77 TO FANCY 79 THE HARBOR OF DREAMS 79 BREATH OF SONG 80 OMAR KHAYYAM 82 REVERY . ..... 83 AT MIDNIGHT 85 ISRAFEL 85 BACKLOG DREAMS 86 SORCERY 88 MOTHS 88 ON A GREEK VASE 89 MOODS 90 FULFILMENT 91 MNEMOSYNE S MIRROR 92 TIME S SONG 93 ATTAINMENT 93 [ vii ] CONTENTS ALLAH S HOUSE 95 PERPETUITY 95 QUATRAINS 97 SUNRISE 97 MOONRISE 97 A HOLLYHOCK 97 WINTER S BEGGAR 98 CONTRAST 98 SUN AND MOON 98 SURF MUSIC 98 LYRICS 99 LOVE 100 AN OLD SONG 100 THE LAST LETTER / 101 PEPITA 103 HER SMILE HIS SUNLIGHT 104 TO A ROSE 106 UNDER HER BALCONY 106 AD ASTRA 107 CONTENTMENT 108 HELIOTROPE 109 VALENTINES no ON A CLOCK 112 TO WINTER 113 HIS STARLIGHT ..... 114 UNSPOKEN 115 SONG 116 THE NUN S ROSE 117 MEMORIES 118 DIRGE H 9 NOCTURNE I20 REMEMBRANCE 121 NATURE 122 A GREETING FOR SPRING 122 I viii ] CONTENTS NOONTIDE 125 THE SKY-SHIP 126 A WOODLAND SPRING 126 THE NAIAD S CUP 128 ETERNITY LANE 129 STORM 130 IN THE CLOVER 131 WINTER STARLIGHT 133 DAYBREAK 134 BOOKS 135 ASPIRATION I3S THE FLY-LEAF TO THE READER 136 THE LIBRARY 13? FORGOTTEN BOOKS * 139 TO HIS BOOK 140 LITTLE-FOLK LYRICS TO THE LITTLE READERS . . . ... . . . .145 BLOSSOMS 146 ANEMONE . 147 DAISIES 147 SPRING S COMING 148 GOLDEN-ROD 148 JANUARY 149 FEBRUARY 150 MARCH w 150 APRIL 151 MAY 152 JUNE 153 JULY 154 AUGUST 155 SEPTEMBER 155 OCTOBER 156 NOVEMBER 157 [ ix] CONTENTS DECEMBER 158 KING BELL . 159 IN THE MEADOW 160 FAIRY JEWELS 161 THE FOUR WINDS 162 HUMMING-BIRD SONG 163 PEBBLES 164 IN THE ORCHARD 164 A REAL SANTA CLAUS 165 CHERRIES 166 FLYING KITE 168 KRISS KRINGLE 168 WIZARD FROST 169 THE JUGGLER 170 A FAIRY STORY 171 THE SHADOWS 172 HIDE-AND-SEEK 173 THE ARCHER 174 A FUNNY FELLOW . . 174 SPINNING TOP 175 SMILES AND TEARS 176 THE CANARY 176 CLOUDS 177 LEAVES AT PLAY 178 SHADOW PICTURES 179 GHOST FAIRIES 180 SONG FOR WINTER 181 A DEWDROP 182 JESTER BEE 183 SNOWFLAKES 184 DREAMS 184 MAY-CHILDREN 186 ROBIN S APOLOGY 187 SOLDIERS OF THE SUN 187 [ X ] CONTENTS SNOW SONG 188 THE RAIN-HARP 189 ELFIN LAMPS 190 BIRDS MUSIC 190 SHADOW CHILDREN 191 FAIRY SHIPWRECK 192 BEES 192 THE WATERFALL "... 193 LULLABY 193 WINTER S ACROBATS 194 VACATION SONG 196 THE SNOW-BIRD 197 THE FAIRIES DANCE 197 THE ROSE S CUP 198 THE SNOW-WEAVER 199 THE STORY-TELLER 200 THE RAINBOW 203 THE STORY OF OMAR 204 THE CHRISTMAS CAT 205 LYRICS OF JOY FANCY 209 CONFESSION . ,. . . . .211 WITCHERY . . . - . .211 DIES ULTIMA 212 A TEAR BOTTLE 213 THE DAY S SHROUD 214 A SEA GHOST 215 A BIRD S ELEGY 215 SECRET 216 THE POET 217 THE CHARM 217 HIS DESIRE 218 THE MUSE 219 CONTENTS THE INTERPRETER 220 HARRO 221 WITH HERRICK 223 CANOE SONG 224 A GARLAND 225 A PRAYER 228 NATURE 229 THE YEAR S DAY 229 ARBUTUS 229 VIOLET 230 APRIL 231 MAY MORNING 232 HONEYSUCKLES 233 WINTER DREAMS 234 WHITE MAGIC 234 FOOTPRINTS IN THE SNOW . ; 235 NANTUCKET 236 LOVE 240 TO JULIET 240 ROSE LORE 241 THE BOWER OF CUPID 242 MOONLIGHT AND MUSIC 244 IN ABSENCE 246 FOR MUSIC 247 LOVE S SPRINGTIDE 247 TO HER 247 MY APRIL 248 A MAY MADRIGAL 249 NOCTURNE 250 MEMORIES 251 A SONG S ECHO 252 WITH ROSES 252 TWO SONGS 253 SONNETS 255 [ xii] CONTENTS SAINT ROSE 255 SURF MUSIC 255 TO A MOCKING BIRD 256 MUSIC 257 THE SHOWER 257 THE WINTER POOL 258 BETRAYAL 258 THE SNOW S DREAMER 259 THE CATHEDRAL BELLS 260 QUATRAINS 261 DAWN 261 STORM 4 . . . 261 DUSK . . . ... .261 STARLIGHT 261 A SEA FANCY 262 MASTERY 262 DERELICT . .- 262 FOG 262 THE PENALTY 263 LIFE 263 THE GOAL 263 KNOWLEDGE 263 IN A GARDEN . ... . . . .264 IVY . . 264 GRASS . . . . 264 ROSE ... ..... .264 DAY DREAM 265 FIRE FANCIES 265 CITY SPARROWS 265 WRIT IN WATER 265 CONTRAST 266 A WISH 266 UNCOLLECTED POEMS THE LOOM OF SONG 269 [ xiii ] CONTENTS ECHO 269 THE BROOK ACCOMPANIMENT 270 MOONLIGHT 271 THE FORTRESS OF SAN MARCO 271 THE FAMILIAR MELODY 272 TWILIGHT 272 ROMANCE 273 BROADWAY AT MIDNIGHT 274 THE END OF AUTUMN 274 THE LONELY ROOM 275 ON A BRONZE MEDAL OF LINCOLN 276 FOR POPPIES 276 GIPSY 277 EXPERIENCE 278 LABOR OMNIA VINCIT 279 AUTUMN LEAVES 279 THE TREE TAVERN 280 NOCTURNE 281 A FIRST EDITION 282 THE HOUSE OF DREAMS 284 LIMITATION 285 THE IMMORTAL FLOWER 285 INDEX OF FIRST LINES 289 INDEX OF TITLES 297 INTRODUCTION IN the year 1633, there landed in Boston two brothers, Samuel and Philip Sherman, whose ancestor, in di rect line, was one Thomas Sherman, Gentleman, a man of parts and prominence in Diss, County Norfolk, Eng land, during the reign of Henry VII. It was from the younger of these two brothers, Philip, a person of note in his day, he having been the first Secretary of the Colony of Portsmouth, Rhode Island, that Frank Dempster Sherman was descended. The poet was born in Peekskill, New York, on May 6, 1860, being the oldest of a family of nine children. His father was John Dempster Sherman, an educator and bookman, and his mother, Lucy MacFarland, of Scotch ancestry. Mr. Sherman passed his boyhood days in his native town, where he received his prelimi nary education at the Peekskill Military Academy. For a time, just before entering college, he was secre tary to Mr. William de Caindry, of Washington, who was connected with the War Department. He entered Columbia University in the autumn of 1879, complet ing his course in 1884, being compelled, on account of ill-health, to drop back a class. He was one of the first graduates of the School of Architecture, a depart ment founded by Professor William R. Ware. At Harvard University he passed a year in post-graduate study, but was obliged to give this up owing to the [xv] INTRODUCTION physical breakdown of his father. Through the influ ence of Professor Ware, he was made a Fellow in Architecture at Columbia in 1887. At this institution he was in turn instructor (1888), adjunct professor (1891), and Professor of Graphics (1904). The last- named position he held at his death, which occurred on the 1 9th of September, 1916. On the i6th of No vember, 1887, he married Juliet Mersereau Durand, of Peekskill. Of his attainments as an instructor one of his col leagues has said : " In the School of Architecture Pro fessor Sherman was not merely an extraordinarily bril liant lecturer on mathematical subjects, but also the guide, counselor, and friend of his students. His work will live in the lives of hundreds of those whom he inspired, and in the progress and development of the School, for which more than once, in times of per plexity and uncertainty, his wise counsels and clear headed vision had proved of inestimable value." Another of Mr. Sherman s University associates (Professor Franklin H. Giddings) tenders this cor dial tribute: "To those who knew Frank Dempster Sherman in the intimacy of colleagues the trait that marked him was his cheerful faithfulness to day-by- day duty. As a teacher he gave himself without stint, and from students he demanded knowledge and accu racy. His own exquisite workmanship was more than talent ; it was also fidelity. His genius for tireless re search and relentless verification made his exhaustive genealogy of the Sherman kindred a work that will [xvi] INTRODUCTION be cited for generations as a standard-setting achieve ment. For kindred and friends nothing that he could give was too good, and sacrifice of time and strength was a thing of course. He would help another fellow to get the right start in professional work or in author ship with an enthusiasm that was tireless. And all these things he did and was because his helpful living had in it the quality of his own Lyrics of Joy. I never heard him called Professor among his colleagues, and rarely * Sherman. To everybody he was Frank or Dempster. " In addition to his activities as poet and professor, and his comprehensive and untiring genealogical re searches, Mr. Sherman was an enthusiastic philatelist and collector of book-plates. His skill as a draughts man led him latterly into book-plate designing, where he might easily have distinguished himself had he cared to do so. More than one editor has attested to his delight in receiving Mr. Sherman s manuscripts, for his chirography was like copper-plate, as any one may discern who cares to examine his remarkable rec ords of the Sherman family now preserved in the genealogical department of the New York Public Li brary. Mr. Sherman was a poet of moods. After long pe riods of silence, the shores of Nantucket, the seclusion of the Catskills, the pine groves of the Carolinas, the quaintness of St. Augustine streets, would move him to sudden and sustained bursts of song. Furthermore, he left behind him a mass of ungathered material (not [ xvii ] INTRODUCTION contained in the present volume), printed under vari ous pen-names, facile, witty, and possessed of a gra cious charm, that is practically unrivaled in American poetry. While at Columbia he was a contributor to, and one of the editors of, the Acta Columbiana; at Harvard he wrote both for the Advocate and the Lam poon ; and later his name was frequently seen in all the prominent periodicals of the country. Hie habitat felicitas ! Render this Latin phrase as you will, in a broad or a restricted sense, it applies with singular fitness to the poetry of Frank Dempster Sherman. Looking into the crystal of life, the scenes that were most actively and vividly presented to his imagination were those of beauty and happiness, and of these he sang with an unfailing clarity and charm. From first to last a firm believer in art, he never mis took this much misunderstood term for artifice. Early to recognize his limitations, it/was thus that he pro claimed his credo : In nature s open book An epic is the sea; A lyric is the brook; Lyrics for me! So while he was an ardent admirer of all that is high est and truest in English poetry from Chaucer down, it was that which is strictly lyrical that exercised for him the most potent appeal. When Mr. Sherman began writing, Longfellow, [ xviii ] INTRODUCTION Whittier, and Lowell were still living, and the great est of the Victorians were in full voice. From none of these men, however, did he draw any appreciable in spiration ; nor had Keats or Shelley, to both of whom he was enthusiastically devoted, a noticeable influence upon his style. He was an inheritor rather, at least in his more serious moods, of that gallant band of cavaliers who sat at the feet of Ben Jonson, and wore their lovelocks long, and jested and sang in the gar dens of Whitehall in the time of the ill-fated Charles the First. If one attempts to trace Mr. Sherman s poetic an cestors, it is to Herrick and Lovelace and Carew among the elders, and to Aldrich and Dobson among the moderns, that he owed the most. But upon what ever he inherited from these poets he set his own in dubitable seal of individuality. No verse-maker has yet written who has not quaffed from some already flowing fount of song. If a Shakspere may glean in the field of a Kyd or a Marlowe, another of lesser and narrower power may rightfully find something appro priate for his uses among his literary forbears. II In those verses which might properly be termed Juvenilia, from which no selection was made in choos ing the material for his first volume, Mr. Sherman showed the same sense of form, the same mastery of technic, that characterized all his later utterances. With him this matter appears to have been intuitive. [ xix ] INTRODUCTION One notes no groping after a medium of expression, no immaturity in handling the thought, as is the case with many a^ youthful writer. Madrigals and Catches, the poet s earliest venture in bookmaking, is instinct with a debonair spirit. No initial volume by any singer is more buoyant or more blithe. How easy tis to write a rhyme! lilts this gay devotee of the Muses. How easy indeed for so merry-hearted a troubadour! Here are many things airy and amatory. Youth, exuberant youth, sings, with no pose of age. Sentiment ? yes, but with out a touch of mawkishness. All is simple, sincere, and spontaneous. Latterly Mr. Sherman expressed regret not infrequently that, at the outset, he should have won recognition and no small reputation as a writer of what Mr. Stedman once aptly styled " Patri cian Rhyme." This feeling on his part, however, seems unwarranted, for he was a master of Society Verse. Far more welcome oftentimes the gay Benedict than " the moody Dane ; " and pleasant it is, on occasion, to turn from the stern gravity of Milton or the lofty earnestness of Wordsworth to the bonhommie of Praed and Locker. So the charm in the gay aban don of such pieces as Sherman s " Engaged," " An Avowal," and " Her Guitar " is undeniable. In the days of Madrigals and Catches, the so-called " French Forms " were fascinating many poets in Eng land and America. Experimenting in these restricted [xx] INTRODUCTION limits, Mr. Sherman achieved no little success. Indeed it may be doubted if such " Follies " (this was the poet s name for them) as "Behind Her Fan," " Her China Cup," and "Awake, Awake," have been equaled by any writer save Mr. Dobson. Ill Passing over the " clever fooling " in a volume enti tled New Waggings of Old Tales, written in conjunc tion with John Kendrick Bangs, we find our poet com ing fully to his own in Lyrics for a Lute. Here, in the opening poem, he puts this question : Is there any fetter strong That will hold you, soul of song ? Whatever that fetter may be, Mr. Sherman had dis covered it, for this whole volume breathes the " soul of song." In it, however varied the theme, love, nature, books, the art is perfect, the music magical. The freshness of youth has not been left behind, but with it is blended maturity. There is youth in " Her Smile His Sunlight," but there is an older vision in such an exquisite lyric as " Remembrance." Day to my heart With you comes always fair; When you depart T is twilight there. Then love unbars The door of dreams for me, And lights the stars Of memory! [ xxi ] INTRODUCTION It is a wider experience, too, out of which grew the brief poem "At Midnight," in which such an unusual and beautiful metaphor is embodied. See, yonder, the belfry tower That gleams in the moon s pale light ! Or is it a ghostly flower That dreams in the silent night ? I listen and hear the chime Go quavering o er the town, And out of this flower of Time Twelve petals are wafted down. It may be said that in Lyrics for a Lute Mr. Sher man first shows himself a true nature-lover, and, in some degree, an interpreter. In sheer lyrical sweep and rapture " A Greeting for Spring " may be set side by side with Mr. Carman s lovely "Mother April." No one save an enamored hunter after first editions could have written the book poems which close this volume. No verses upon a library could be happier than those beginning, Give me a room where every nook Is dedicated to a book; and no couplet could be finer or more tender than the following, in the final selection, addressed to one who throughout much of the poet s life meant to him both inspiration and aspiration : Her praise is inspiration s breath; Her scorn were aspiration s death! [ xxii ] INTRODUCTION IV Were one making up a shelf of poetry for children, there are two books that, at the beginning, one would unhesitatingly choose. These are Stevenson s Child s Garden of Verses and Sherman s Little-Folk Lyrics ; and it would be purely a matter of taste which to place first, for each has its own especial merit and charm. In Little-Folk Lyrics Mr. Sherman comes very near to the heart of childhood, the ability to do which is a unique gift. In imagination he never goes so far that the youthful mind may not accompany him. He writes not about juvenility, but for it, and does not mistake the childish for the childlike. Everywhere he is cheery, suggestive, fanciful. In turn delicate, sprightly or hu morous, he leads the little folk on through the months of the year amid birds, blossoms, fruit, and snowflakes. It would be a strange child who would not be beguiled by these delightful, these winsome, verse-pictures ; for in each, whatever be the theme, there is that mixture of fact and ideality, the sights and sounds and inci dents, which characterize and illuminate the child- drama. V Mr. Sherman s last book (with the exception of a slight volume, A Southern Flight, published jointly with a friend) was Lyrics of Joy, which appeared in 1904. In its pages, as many times previously, the note of happiness is dwelt upon, but now with a touch of gravity, as seen in the closing stanza of " Confession." [ xxiii ] INTRODUCTION So all my lyrics sing of joy, And shall until my lips are mute; In old age happy as the boy To whom God gave the lute. There is, moreover, now and again a shadow, a chord of pathos, which serves by contrast to add a bright ness to the poetic conception. This may be discerned in such pieces as " Dies Ultima " and " A Tear Bottle," more especially in the latter which tells of the glass wherein the tears of a Greek girl fell two thousand years ago. We sense a certain poignant regret in reading Long is Art, but Life how brief! And the end seems so unjust This companion of her grief Here to-day, while she is dust! It was Mr. Sherman s frequent claim that the son net was a form in which he failed, but his experiments with it hardly justify his contention. " A Butterfly in Wall Street," with its vivid last line, You are a type of their uncertain gold, will compare favorably with the best American son nets ; and in Lyrics of Joy and among the Uncollected Poems are other instances of his skill in nurturing the " lovely flower of fourteen perfect petals." VI During the last six years of his life, Mr. Sherman wrote no poetry. After a summer of unusual produc tivity, spent in one of the most delightful vales of the Catskills, he became intensely absorbed in the gene- [ xxiv ] INTRODUCTION alogy of the Sherman family, the outcome of which remains to-day a marvel of industry and achievement. Although he grew, without reason, to consider him self a part of the past, he never lost interest in the art which, for so long a time, had been nearest to his heart. Vital and exceptionally brilliant as an instructor and lecturer in the realm of architecture, he was no less illumining when he spoke of poetry. From the days of his early enthusiasms when, walking at twilight under the Cambridge elms, he would improvise sonnet, rondeau, or ballade with an ease that was the despair of those less versatile, until the last weeks before the end, his ability to discriminate between the true "and false in verse was as remarkable as it was unerring. Although in practice he was a precisian, his likings and sympathies were broad. In all Mr. Sherman s poetry there is a fine certitude, an inevitableness. He fashioned an epigram with the same surety with which a carver cuts an intaglio. His vision was never clouded. Along whatsoever ways he led, the paths were unobscured by an illusory haze. Many are his fancies and figures, and each is definite and sharp of outline. As another has said, his poems have a compactness and completeness of organism that make them memorable. When more ambitious verse has been forgotten, it would not be surprising if some of Mr. Sherman s exquisite lyrics would hold their place in the thought and memory of our children s children. CLINTON SCOLLARD. BIBLIOGRAPHY Madrigals and Catches. White, Stokes & Allen, New York, 1887. New Waggings of Old Tales. (With John Kendrick Bangs.) Ticknor & Company, Boston, 1887. Lyrics for a Lute. Houghton Mifflin Company, Boston, 1890. Little Folk Lyrics. Houghton Mifflin Company, Boston, 1892. Lyrics of Joy. Houghton Mifflin Company, Boston, 1904. A Southern Flight. (With Clinton Scollard.) George William Browning, Clinton, New York, 1905. MADRIGALS AND CATCHES TO MY FATHER Madrigals and catches caught In the cage of Happy-thought Are these amatory rhymes; Reveries of olden times When my heart was ever bent After some new sentiment, Veering like a ship at sea With the tides of melody, Trembling like the stars above With each last-discovered love. These are songs for gladsome youth. Half in jest and half in truth ; Lyrics light as gales that toss Leaves the orchard floor across, Lyrics gay as carols sung Blossom-laden vines among ; All pitched in a major key Catch and madrigal and glee : Songs whose inspiration came In the constant leaping flame Of my love for Her whose eyes Look on us from Paradise, And my love for you whose heart Gave Love s mariner the chart That he might find only joy Only joy for me, your boy. MADRIGALS AND CATCHES FANCY LIFT the oars and let us go Whither listless winds may blow, Drifting idly with the tide, Kissing grasses either side, Skimming deeps that lie between Bending willow-branches green : On, and on, and on we 11 float With no pilot for our boat Save the zephyr, cool and bland, Lisping from the launching-land, Guided by no stars above, Only lucent eyes of love. Sailing, we at last shall reach Silver sands of island beach, Where a seaward-blown perfume Hints of orchard fruit and bloom. In this golden ocean-isle Let us wander for a while, Plucking from its treasure-trees Apples of Hesperides. [3) MADRIGALS AND CATCHES MORNING MIST ACROSS the level meadow-land There hangs a veil of vapor white, Like some forgotten robe of night Held in the morning s rosy hand. Along the grass the wind-waves run, And wake the witches weird refrain : " Behold the ghost of last night s rain I " And lo, it melts before the sun I Then comes a rustle in the wood, As if upon the leaves were cast A sudden spell, the ghost has passed Into their shadowed solitude I DAWN AND DUSK SLENDER strips of crimson sky Near the dim horizon lie, Shot across with golden bars Reaching to the fading stars ; Soft the balmy west wind blows Wide the portals of the rose ; Smell of dewy pine and fir, Lisping leaves and vines astir ; [4 1 DAWN AND DUSK On the borders of the dark Gayly sings the meadow-lark, Bidding all the birds assemble, Hark, the welkin seems to tremble ! Suddenly the sunny gleams Break the poppy-fettered dreams, Dreams of Pan, with two feet cloven, Piping to the nymph and faun, Who, with wreaths of ivy woven, Nimbly dance to greet the dawn. II Shifting shadows indistinct ; Leaves and branches, crossed and linked, Cling like children, and embrace, Frightened at the moon s pale face. In the gloomy wood begins Noise of insect violins ; Swarms of fireflies flash their lamps In their atmospheric camps, And the sad-voiced whip-poor-will Echoes back from hill to hill, Liquid clear above the crickets, Chirping in the thorny thickets, Weary eyelids, eyes that weep, Wait the magic touch of sleep ; While the dew, in silence falling, Fills the air with scent of musk, And this lonely night-bird, calling, Drops a note down through the dusk. [ 5 ] MADRIGALS AND CATCHES SUMMER MEADOWS lost in clouds of mist ; Grass whose lips the dew has kissed ; Buds whose fragrant breath is drawn Through the freshness of the dawn ; Vines in whose slight pulses flows Life-blood of the crimson rose ; Flocks of happy-hearted birds Talking in melodious words ; Brooks, unfettered by the Spring, Through the pastures murmuring, Children prattling in their glee Chasing to the mother sea ; Soft south-breezes, gentle rain, Rival wooers of the plain ; Here and there beside the path Flowers emerging from their bath ; Waving forest-floods of green, Leaves with blossoms white between. Ah ! the bud is open now, Hints of fruit hang on the bough, And the velvet rose is born At the coming of the morn : There s a gladness in the sun Speaks of something new begun, - [ 6] INDIAN SUMMER Of a work mysterious Nature has performed for us. Hark ! the honey-bee s low hum Tells us that the summer s come 1 INDIAN SUMMER* ACROSS the billowy meadow grasses The Summer passes with languid tread, And where she journeys the path is burning, And leaves are turning to brown and red. She goes in silence across the valley Where low winds rally around her track And touch her garment and murmur, " Maiden, With roses laden come back, come back ! " She does not heed them, she does not listen ; Her soft eyes glisten with welling tears; Her heart grows heavy for not replying To verdure dying, to prayers she hears. But once, in sorrow, she turns and lingers To kiss the fingers fast growing cold, And all the Earth for a moment s pleasure Yields up her treasure of yellow gold. MADRIGALS AND CATCHES THE ICE-PRISONER ABOVE, a dome of gray ; below, The landscape carpeted with snow : No bird so warmly clad or bold Who dares to brave the bitter cold. I find within the silent wood A solitude of solitude. Through leafless trees no breeze is blown To hint that I am not alone, No echo cracks the crystal air: The world about me seems to wear A look of peaceful loneliness, Remembering the soft caress Of summer winds that robbed the flowers, And music measuring the hours. Throughout the land the hush of death ! I breathe, and, lo, the ghost of breath ! The crisp snow crunches neath my tread Like fallen twigs and branches dead. But hark ! Along the frozen ground I catch a muffled liquid sound, A voice that sings of Paradise, Low murmuring in walls of ice, A melody that seems to run To find again the truant sun. I hear the fettered pulses stir Of winter s happy prisoner [8] THE MARCH WIND Whose merry song and laughter bring A thought of the returning spring, Of buds and grass with warm rain wet, And April s early violet. FEBRUARY LIKE mimic meteors the snow In silence out of heaven sifts, And wanton winds that wake and blow Pile high their monumental drifts. And looking through the window-panes I see, mid loops and angles crossed, The dainty geometric skeins Drawn by the fingers of the Frost. T is here at dawn where comes his Love, All eager and with smile benign, A golden Sunbeam from above, To read the Frost s gay valentine. THE MARCH WIND BLOW, wind of March, and sing Your songs unto the timid buds and grass; Unclasp the fetters of the woodland spring Hushed in its house of glass. Blow, wind of March, and thrill The languid pulses of the barren trees, [9] MADRIGALS AND CATCHES Until their empty hands with blossoms fill And tempt the honey-bees. Blow, wind of March, and wake The sleeping violets with gentle words ; Spread your green canopy of leaves and make A shelter for the birds. Blow, sturdy wind of March, And burst the winter s frosty prison-bars ; Blow all the clouds from heaven s azure arch And stud it with white stars. Blow, wind of March, aye, blow, Until the orchards heed your voice, and bloom ; Then whisper softly where the wild flowers grow About the winter s tomb. AN APRIL CAROL APRIL! Robin, sing to greet her ; Down the meadow dart to meet her ! See, she brings the leaf and flower, Fickle sun and fickle shower, Gives the day another hour, Makes the breezes sweeter. April ! Maidens, lend your faces Dimpled smiles and gentle graces ! [10] IDYLLIC See, she brings the blue-bells chimes, Tardy lovers with their rhymes, Steals her days from warmer climes, Nights from dewy places. April ! Song, be blithe and tender ; Music, sound with double splendor ! See, she brings the warbling birds, Troops of bees and dappled herds, Teaches love mysterious words, Bids the heart surrender. IDYLLIC *T*O lie beneath a cloudless sky A On moss beside a shallow brook Where smells of wild-flowers in the dells Make me forgetful of my book, To dream of shepherd with his crook, Of sheep on grassy slopes asleep, To catch a visionary look Of shepherdess, and hear her step Fall like a whisper on the ground, To watch her sunny smiles, and see Her dainty garments, soft and snowy, Fold gracefully her form around, T is like a day in Sicily With Daphnis and his sweetheart Chloe. MADRIGALS AND CATCHES A GLOW-WORM CLOSE by the margin tufts of grass Weighed down with dew and damp, I found you as I chanced to pass, Your trimmed and shining lamp Illumining with greenish light The dusty road in dusky night : A velvet ring set round with gems That softly shone below The pale blue chicory s tall stems, As if the path to show To some belated beetle who Went stumbling homeward in the dew : A phosphorescent beacon there, A solitary guide For insect ships that sail the air On breaths of fragrant tide ; Or were you from some realm on high A star dropped from the summer sky ? IN AN OLD GARDEN THREE giant fir-trees reach their arms To shade this quiet garden plot, And here and there a fragrant knot Of roses tempts the buzzing swarms. [ 12] WITH A ROSE Amid a host of alien weeds Spring faces of familiar blooms Which, breathing stories in perfumes, Seem ghosts of some forgotten seeds. The creeping vine, its tendrils round The crooked rows of untrimmed box, Forsaken now, methinks it knocks To gain admittance to the ground. All, all is waste and desolate, The blowing firs are full of grief, The blue-bird hidden by a leaf Sings sorrowfully to his mate. The scattered flowers alone are gay ; Their fragrance fills the gentle wind, And I, grown drowsy, dream and find The long forgotten yesterday. , WITH A ROSE A TINY fire within this rose Lends to the leaves a crimson flush Like that soft tint which comes and goes And weaves a modest maiden s blush. So to my Sweet this censer bloom Swung by Love s little acolyte I send, that all its fine perfume May float around her through the night. [ 13 1 MADRIGALS AND CATCHES Go, Rose, unto my heart s desire, Perchance her love for you may frame A dream of Cupids in a choir All chanting lyrics to her name. And when the dream shall end at last, A priceless gift shall be your fee, To feel her kisses falling fast Upon your lips for love of me. TO A DAISY WEE, little rimless wheel of Fate, With silver spokes and hub of yellow, What gentle girl, in accents mellow, Has sought your aid to find a mate ? Who snapt your slender spokes apart, Each one some dear acquaintance naming ? And who was he the loved one, claiming The choicest chamber in her heart ? O tiny hub of golden hue, Kissed by her fingers tender pressing, Still yet, methinks, she s vainly guessing If what you prophesied were true. You died between her finger-tips, Sweet gypsy maid of wisdom magic ; Pray, is it worth a death so tragic To hear the music of her lips ? [ 14 1 TO A DANDELION ON SOME BUTTERCUPS \ LITTLE way below her chin, JlY. Caught in her bosom s snowy hem, Some buttercups are fastened in, Ah, how I envy them 1 They do not miss their meadow place, Nor are they conscious that their skies Are not the heavens but her face, Her hair and tender eyes. There, in the downy meshes pinned, Such sweet illusions haunt their rest, They think her breath the fragrant wind, And tremble on her breast ; As if, close to her heart, they heard A captive secret slip its cell, And with desire were sudden stirred To find a voice and tell ! TO A DANDELION LITTLE mimic of the sun, Hiding in the fragrant grass, Have you any kisses won From the pretty maids who pass ? When the sun slips down the west [ 15 1 MADRIGALS AND CATCHES Some fair girl shall come in quest Of the secret which you lock In your tiny golden breast : You shall hear an airy knock, And a question : What o clock ? Ah, you dainty, snowy ghost, See what bliss your wisdom brings ! Tell me, pray, what angels boast Such a zephyr for their wings ? Just because the hour you tell, She repays your magic well, Wafts you off to paradise ; Sounds for you a gentle knell ; Lights your journey with her eyes : Would that I were half so wise ! APPLE BLOSSOMS THE soft wind whispered secrets to the apple tree, Caressed her in his arms and would not let her go Until the rosy blossoms came triumphantly To tell the one sweet message that he wished to know. A timid maiden with her lover lingered there In silence, clasping hands amid the leaves that fell, Till one bold blossom drifting down the perfumed air Just touched her rounded cheek, and bade the blushes tell. A ROSE LYRIC A ROSE LYRIC ROSE in the garden-close, Why, when the light wind blows, Why do you bend your head ? Why do your cheeks grow red ? Rose, my sweet, rose at my feet, Tell me ! What does the soft gale say Whispering low all day, Kissing your lips a-bloom, Answering back perfume ? Rose, my sweet, rose at my feet, Tell me ! Tell me that I may woo Her as the wind wooes you ; What are the words that start Blushes from your sweet heart? Rose, my sweet, rose at my feet, Tell me ! Rose, of all roses, queen, Budding at seventeen, Place the flower near your lip, Then, if the secret slip, Rose, my Sweet, Rose, at your feet, Tell me! MADRIGALS AND CATCHES "PANSIES FOR THOUGHTS " FOR you these tiny flowers are cut, These slender-stemmed, rich purple pansies ; A thousand thoughts and tender fancies Within their little hearts are shut. Sweet memories of happy hours We spent together, dear romances, Like love in one of Cupid s glances, Hide in the fragrance of these flowers. NOBILITY E sturdy wind that fills the ship s white sail A And turns the mighty mill-wheel when it blows, Once breathed the love-song of the nightingale, And wafted him the perfume of the rose. Let him who seeks a god-like man to find Think of the wind, and seek its counterpart : The tempest s strength, matched by a noble mind, The zephyr by a pure and gentle heart ! H A BUNCH OF QUATRAINS A QUATRAIN ARK at the lips of this pink whorl of shell And you shall hear the ocean s surge and roar So in the quatrain s measure, written well, A thousand lines shall all be sung in four ! I 18 ] BACCHUS A RED ROSE ONCE, long ago, in some sweet garden s hush, A lover gave you, snow-white, to his love : And, lifted to her lips, you saw her blush And blushed to match her damask cheek above. APRIL AS any child, this baby of the year s Made glad with toys, forgets imagined woes : Thus comes young April smiling through her tears, Her toys the flowers, her grief the vanished snows. BACCHUS T ISTEN to the tawny thief, I ^ Hid behind the waxen leaf, Growling at his fairy host, Bidding her with angry boast Fill his cup with wine distilled From the dew the dawn has spilled : Stored away in golden casks Is the precious draught he asks. Who, who makes this mimic din In this mimic meadow inn, Sings in such a drowsy note, Wears a golden-belted coat ; I 19] MADRIGALS AND CATCHES Loiters in the dainty room Of this tavern of perfume ; Dares to linger at the cup Till the yellow sun is up ? It is Bacchus come again To the busy haunts of men ; Garlanded and gayly dressed, Bands of gold about his breast ; Straying from his paradise, Having pinions, angel-wise, T is the honey-bee, who goes Reveling within a rose ! A LYRIC A LYRIC is a tiny bird, Gay lover of the garden blooms, Whose little heart is ever stirred By colors and perfumes. Its flights are near the lowly things, Not to the eagle-epic s skies : It is content to flash its wings Beneath my loved one s eyes. Go then, my song, you have the chart To guide you to a gentle clime, Go build your nest, and thrill her heart With flutterings of rhyme ! [20] A CATCH A CATCH IF any grace To me belong, In song, Know then your face Has been to me A key; For pitched in this Delicious tone, I ve known I could not miss What music slips Your lips. If faults be found In any line Of mine, To mar the sound Of notes that try To vie With yours, my Sweet, Then, always true, Do you The words repeat, And make sublime My rhyme ! [21] MADRIGALS AND CATCHES A SNARE LOVE I locked upon a time In the fetters of my rhyme, Bound his feet and fixed his hands Firm in fancy -forged bands, Fastened with a dainty twist Couplet-gyves around his wrist. Sealed his lips and left him dumb, Prisoner till She should come. Then I said unto my Heart : " By this magic, by this art, You shall learn if She be kind To your constancy, or blind : Like the rhyme your chains are stout Captive in the dungeon Doubt, There you languish at the door Praying freedom evermore. If She pity Love s distress, If, with maiden tenderness, She his bands and fetters slip, Murmuring with trembling lip Linked music of my song, Be of cheer ; for then, erelong, At your bars her face you 11 see, Then the lock shall feel the key Turn its rusty round, and then, Love know liberty again ! " [22] A MADRIGAL A MADRIGAL ALL the world is bright, All my heart is merry, Violets and roses red, Sparkling in the dew : Brow the lily s white ; Lip the crimson berry; Hark, I hear a lightsome tread, Ah, my love, t is you ! Wing to me, birds, and sing to me ; None so happy as I ! Only the merriest melodies bring to me When my beloved is by. All the air is sweet, All my heart is quiet, Fleecy clouds on breezes warm Floating far above : Eye where soft lights meet ; Cheek where roses riot ; Look, I see a gracious form, Ah, t is you, my love I Wing to her, birds, and sing to her ; None so happy as she 1 Only the merriest melodies bring to her, Only this message from me ! [23] MADRIGALS AND CATCHES A BETROTHAL " T LOVE you," he whispered low, JL In joy, for a moment bold ; And suddenly, white as snow, The warm little hand grew cold. " I love you," again he said, And touched the soft finger-tips ; But shyly she bent her head, To hide the two trembling lips. "I love you," she turned her face. His heart overfilled with fear ; When lo, on her cheek the trace Of one tiny passion-tear ! " I love you," he gently spoke, And kissed her, sweet, tearful-eyed ; The rose-blossom fetters broke : "I* love you, too," they replied. A PERSIAN DANCING GIRL JASMINES tangled in her hair Ebon hair that loosely hangs, Looped with silver serpent fangs, Swaying in the scented air. [24] A MADRIGAL Silken sandals on her feet Tiny feet that trip in time To the tambourine,, and rhyme With the tinkling music sweet. On her olive-tinted breast, Turquoise trinkets, jewels, rings Lovers tokens gifts from kings, Jingle gayly, never rest. Now she gives a dizzy twirl To the measure of the dance Quicker than a stolen glance, Glides the dainty, graceful girl. Just beyond the eager throng Lazily her lover smokes With his rivals, telling jokes Spiced with strains of Persian song. Idly waiting well he knows How they hate him, every one. In the garden of the Sun He has picked the fairest rose. A MADRIGAL SWEETHEART, the year is young, And neath the heavens blue The fresh wild-flowers have hung Their cups to catch the dew, [25] MADRIGALS AND CATCHES And love like a bird carols one soft word, Sweetheart, to the sapphire skies ; And floating aloft comes an echo soft " Sweetheart " your eyes ! Sweetheart, the year is sweet With fragrance of the rose That bends before your feet As to the gale that blows. And love like a bird quavers one low word, Sweetheart, to the garden place : And across the glow comes an echo low " Sweetheart your face I Sweetheart, the year grows old ; Upon the meadows brown And forests, waving gold, The stars look, trembling, down. And love like a bird whispers one pure word, Sweetheart, to the cooling air ; And the breezes sure waft an echo pure " Sweetheart " your hair ! Sweetheart, the year wanes fast ; The summer birds have flown From winter s spiteful blast Unto a sun-bound zone. And love like a bird warbles one clear word, Sweetheart, to the balmy south ; And back to my ear comes an echo clear " Sweetheart " your mouth ! [26] THE BOOK-HUNTER Sweetheart, the year is gone ; Lean closer to my heart 1 Time only weighs upon The loves that dwell apart. And love like a bird with his whole soul stirred, Sweetheart, shall carol his glee ; And to you I 11 cling while the echoes ring " Sweetheart" for me ! THE BOOK-HUNTER A CUP of coffee, eggs, and rolls, Sustain him in his morning strolls : Unconscious of the passers-by, He trudges on with downcast eye ; He wears a queer old hat and coat, Suggestive of a style remote ; His manner is preoccupied, A shambling gait, from side to side. For him the sleek, bright-windowed shop Is all in vain, he does not stop. His thoughts are fixed on dusty shelves Where musty volumes hide themselves, Rare prints of poetry and prose, And quaintly lettered folios, Perchance a parchment manuscript, In some forgotten corner slipped, Or monk-illumined missal bound In vellum with brass clasps around ; [27] MADRIGALS AND CATCHES These are the pictured things that throng His mind the while he walks along. A dingy street, a cellar dim, With book-lined walls, suffices him. The dust is white upon his sleeves ; He turns the yellow, dog-eared leaves With just the same religious look That priests give to the Holy Book. He does not heed the stifling air If so he find a treasure there. He knows rare books, like precious wines, Are hidden where the sun ne er shines ; For him delicious flavors dwell In books as in old Muscatel ; He finds in features of the type A clew to prove the grape was ripe. And when he leaves this dismal place, Behold, a smile lights up his face ! Upon his cheeks a genial glow, Within his hand Boccaccio, A first edition worn with age, " Firenze" on the title-page. AT THE DOOR T T THAT time the night-bird to the rose V V Sings of his love, I seek her garden-plot where grows A blossom-laden vine that throws Its arms above, [28 1 A REMINISCENCE And scales the weary stretch of stone, Until at length It clasps her lattice open thrown, And sees the sweet face of my own, And finds new strength. How often I have strived to climb Love s barrier wall Upon the ladder of my rhyme : A little way, yet, time on time, I faint and fall. Methinks if once I could but rise Up to the bars, And gather courage from those eyes To speak so close unto the skies Unto the stars Alas, my fancy goes no more ! Perhaps t would be As if, with weary feet and sore, I came to Heaven s closed door Without a key. A REMINISCENCE THERE was a time, fond girl, when you Were partial to caresses ; Before your graceful figure grew Too tall for ankle-dresses ; [29] MADRIGALS AND CATCHES When " Keys and Pillows," and the rest Of sentimental pastimes, Were thought to be the very best Amusement out of class-times. You wore your nut-brown hair in curls That reached beyond your bodice, Quite in the style of other girls, But you I thought a goddess ! I wrote you letters, long and short, How many there s no telling 1 Imagination was my forte : I can t say that of spelling 1 We shared our sticks of chewing-gum, Our precious bits -of candy ; Together solved the knotty sum, And learned the ars amandi: Whene er you wept, a woeful lump Stuck in my throat, delayed there I My sympathetic heart would jump : I wondered how it stayed there I We meet to-day, we meet, alas ! With salutation formal ; I m in the college senior class, You study at the Normal ; And as we part I think again, And sadly wonder whether You wish, as I, we loved as when We sat at school together 1 [30] LOVE S SEASONS LOVE S SEASONS TWAS spring when I first found it out ; T was autumn when I told it ; The gloomy winter made me doubt, And summer scarce could hold it : " She loves," the mating robins sang In sweet, delicious trebles, And through the brooks the echo rang In music o er the pebbles. The fresh air, filled with fragrant scent Of blossoms, softly hinted The self-same song ; where er I went I found the message printed On bud and leaf, on earth and sky ; Through sun and rain it glistened, And though I never reasoned why, I always read or listened. The summer dawned, and still the birds Sang in their tree-top glory, And something seemed to make their words A sequel to my story : " You love," they twittered in the trees ; Whene er the light wind stirred them, Distracting words ! on every breeze They fluttered, and I heard them. At last the mellow autumn came, And all the leaves were turning, [31 1 MADRIGALS AND CATCHES The fields and forests were aflame In golden sunlight burning ; The parting birds sang out again A sentimental message ; " Go tell her," whispered they, and then I thought t was love s first presage. O timid-hearted twenty-four, To faint and lose your courage, Or half-reluctantly implore A pretty girl at her age ! For when I stammered what they d sung, And all their secrets told her, She said the birds were right, and hung Her head upon my shoulder. AN AVOWAL THERE S a word in my heart, dare I tell it ? A dangerous, wonderful word : It calls, and I hush it and quell it ; It flutters and calls like a bird Made captive from out its dark prison, And begs for a glimmer of light ; Up, up to my throat it is risen, And poises for flight. Her eyes are like stars softly shining, Each one has a sparkle within ; [32] AN AVOWAL And radiant roses are twining In cheeks where my kisses have been. But something of sadness and sorrow, A shadowy emblem of doom, Seems whispering, " Wait for the morrow ! " And leaves me in gloom. One touch of her exquisite fingers, One pressure of velvety tips, In memory s mazes still lingers ; One kiss is still fresh on my lips. But down in my heart in a flutter A bird dwells to tenderly sing The song that my lips dare not utter, The song of a ring, A ring wrought of gold, with a jewel Imbedded within it that tries To flash back the soft or the cruel Light locked in her beautiful eyes. Will she wear it, I wonder, a token Of all that my heart holds so fast That the fetters remain yet unbroken And firm to the last ? There it comes ! What a ghost of a shiver Just ran through my stammering tongue ! And down in my heart there s a quiver Of something that ought to be sung. [33l MADRIGALS AND CATCHES One word ah, my darling, you know it ; The long captive songster has flown ! Love love is the burden ; the poet Loves you you alone ! IN PARENTHESIS I READ the verses from my copy, A bunch of fancies culled from Keats, A rhyme of rose and drowsy poppy, Of maiden, song, and other sweets : The lines so patiently I penned them, Without one sable blot or blur I knew had music to commend them And all their secret thoughts to her. She heard the rhythmical romanza, And made a comment there and here ; I read on to the final stanza, Where timid love had made me fear. A long parenthesis ; the metre Went lamely on without a foot, Because the sentiment was sweeter Than love emboldened me to put. Alas, I tried to fill the bracket ; The truant thought refused to come ! The point, to think the rhyme should lack it ! My wakeful conscience struck me dumb. [34] TO MY MESSAGE She took the little leaf a minute, Ah, what a happy time was this ! The bracket soon had something in it, I kissed her in parenthesis. TO MY MESSAGE WHEN in her lap you lie, Little note, Look upward to your sky A tender, mild blue eye, A round, rose-colored throat, An exquisite white chin With one star-dimple in : Look upward from her lap s Soft pillow, and perhaps You may see Her think of me. And if by happy chance, Letter mine, You see her blue eyes glance Across your smooth expanse, Or fixed upon the line Which rhymes with all the love Reflected there above, Grieve not that you are dumb ; But think that I shall come Once again, Your spokesman then. [35] MADRIGALS AND CATCHES Ah me ! would I, like you, Missive slight, Might watch those clear eyes blue, That throat and white chin, too, And read them all aright, Might feel the red lips touch My own, I d give how much ! Just once to take your place, My paradise her face And a part Of her dear heart. A CIGAR A, ONE I puff soft wreaths of blue That frame a most delightful view ; A little library with two Together sitting : A youth and girl. Upon her knees A novel with a hero ; he s A ghostly circumstance to these Quaint wraps she s knitting. The lover holds the worsted, and Just touches one fair pinky hand : How well her bright eyes understand ! For soon, unbidden, Two scarlet lips begin to move A conversation in that groove [361 A CIGAR Where chosen words quite clearly prove The subject hidden. And then the knitting s laid aside ; The needle s dropped ; and some sweet guide Leads both his hands to haply hide Two others whiter. I listen, and a mellow note Slips through the rosy, rounded throat : I hear the happy lover quote The novel s writer. The writer, ah, what kind fates come To keep harsh criticism from His little book : perhaps t is some Such situation ; A picture similar to this, Portraying a brief spell of bliss, And punctuated with a kiss- Interrogation. I see the faces slowly meet, And shy, uncertain glances greet : The knitting s fallen to her feet ; And on his shoulder Her head in golden glory lies, While, fathoming her lovely eyes, He reads the tenderest replies, Love growing bolder. (371 MADRIGALS AND CATCHES But, while I dream in idleness, And wonder whether she will bless His hearing with a whispered "yes/ 1 With drooping lashes ; The picture fades from sight afar As pales at morn a silver star ; I seek the light of my cigar, And find but ashes. A BUNDLE OF LETTERS STRANGE how much sentiment Clings like a fragrant scent To these love-letters pent In their pink covers : Day after day they came Feeding love s fickle flame ; Now, she has changed her name, Then we were lovers. Loosen the silken band Round the square bundle, and See what a dainty hand Scribbled to fill it Full facetious chat ; Fancy how long she sat Moulding the bullets that Came with each billet ! Ah, I remember still Time that I used to kill [38] A BUNDLE OF LETTERS Waiting the postman s shrill, Heart-stirring whistle, Calling vague doubts to mind, Whether or no I d find That he had left behind One sweet epistle. Seconds become an age At this exciting stage ; Two eager eyes the page Scan for a minute ; Then, with true lover s art, Study it part by part, Until they know by heart Everything in it. What is it all about ? Dashes for words left out, Pronouns beyond a doubt ! Very devoted. Howells she s just begun ; Dobson her heart has won ; Locker and Tennyson Frequently quoted. Criss-cross the reading goes, Rapturous rhyme and prose, Words which I don t suppose Look very large in Books on the " ologies " ; Then there s a tiny frieze [39] MADRIGALS AND CATCHES Full of sweets in a squeeze, Worked on the margin. Lastly, don t pause to laugh I That is her autograph Signing this truce for half Her heart s surrender ; Post-scriptum, one and two, Desserts, the dinner s through ! - Linking the "I" and " You " In longings tender. Such is the type of all Save one, and let me call Brief notice to this small Note neatly written : T is but a card, you see, Gently informing me That it can never be ! This is the mitten ! A RHYME FOR PRISCILLA DEAR Priscilla, quaint, and very Like a modern Puritan, Is a modest, literary, Merry young American : Horace she has read, and Bion Is her favorite in Greek ; Shakspere is a mighty lion In whose den she dares but peek ; [40] A RHYME FOR PRISCILLA Him she leaves to some sage Daniel, Since of lions she s afraid, She prefers a playful spaniel, Such as Herrick or as Praed ; And it s not a bit satiric To confess her fancy goes From the epic to a lyric On a rose. Wise Priscilla, dilettante, With a sentimental mind, Does n t deign to dip in Dante, And to Milton is n t kind ; L Allegro, II Penseroso, Have some merits she will grant, All the rest is only so-so, Enter Paradise she can t ! She might make a charming angel (And she will if she is good, But it s doubtful if the change 11 Make the Epic understood); Honey-suckling, like a bee she Goes and pillages his sweets, And it s plain enough to see she Worships Keats. Gay Priscilla, just the person For the Locker whom she loves ; What a captivating verse on Her neat-fitting gowns or gloves Ui 1 MADRIGALS AND CATCHES He could write in catching measure, Setting all the heart astir 1 And to Aldrich what a pleasure It would be to sing of her, He, whose perfect songs have won her Lips to quote them day by day. She repeats the rhymes of Bunner In a fascinating way, And you 11 often find her lost in She has reveries at times Some delightful one of Austin Dobson s rhymes. Priscilla, sweet Priscilla. Writing of you makes me think, As I burn my brown Manila, And immortalize my ink, How well satisfied these poets Ought to be with what they do, When, especially, they know it s Read by such a girl as you : 1 who sing of you would marry Just the kind of girl you are, One who does n t care to carry Her poetic taste too far, One whose fancy is a bright one, Who is fond of poems fine, And appreciates a light one Such as mine. [42] HER GUITAR A PERSIAN NOCTURNE O NIGHTINGALE among the leaves Who singest to the blushing rose, Thy liquid, mellow music cleaves The garden s fragrance where it goes ! Who taught thy feathered slender throat This strange, delicious, limpid note, Which soaring skyward through the dark In swift, melodious pursuit, Tempts all the trembling stars to hark, And all the rustling leaves be mute ? Teach me thy song, O happy bird, That, neath the window of my love, My lips may speak some honeyed word With wings to waft it up above : And when she comes her starry eyes Shall shame their rivals in the skies ; Her cheeks shall mock the rose ; and thou, Beholding what thou thinkest thine, Perched lightly on the lofty bough, Shalt leave thy rose, and sing to mine I HER GUITAR BY the fire that loves to tint her Cheeks the color of a rose, While the wanton winds of winter Lose the landscape in the snows, [431 MADRIGALS AND CATCHES While the air grows keen and bitter, And the clean-cut silver stars Tremble in the cold and glitter Through the twilight s dusky bars, - In a cozy room where lingers Happy Time on folded wings, I am watching five white fingers Float across six slender strings Of an old guitar, held lightly, Captivated while she sets, Here and there, five others tightly On the frets. Lost in loving contemplation Of the fair, shy, girlish face Conscious of no admiration, Posed with such a charming grace O er this instrument some Spanish Serenader used to keep Hidden till the sun would vanish And the birds were fast asleep ; Who, below his loved one s casement, With the mellow southern moon Through a leafy interlacement Shining softly, thrummed a tune : Did she answer it, I wonder ? Did she frame a sweet reply ? Did she grant the wish made under Such a sky ? 44 THE MUSE This I know, if she had listened To the melody I Ve heard, Mute confessions must have glistened In her eyes at every word ; And the very stars above her Must have whispered, one by one, Something sentimental of her When the serenade was done. For this music has but ended, And I leave my dreams to find With the notes are somehow blended Like confessions of my mind; And the gentle girl who guesses What these broken secrets are, Is the one whose arm caresses This guitar. THE MUSE FOR months I had suffered derision, A siege of poetical blues ; The fair mythological vision Familiarly known as the Muse Had vanished and left me deserted, The frozen rhyme-rills would n t run While she, Miss Calliope, flirted With some other son. The ink which I penned every word of Once put upon paper, it froze ; [45] MADRIGALS AND CATCHES Presto ! transformation unheard of ! The poetry turned into prose. T was clear that the rhymes were not running In pairs simultaneous then, T was clear that my hand had lost cunning, And likewise my pen. I conquered some mental depression In this philosophical grief : The Muse may repent her transgression, I reasoned, and turn a new leaf, And some happy day, unexpected, Return and do penance a time By having her manners corrected In trivial rhyme. Alas for the "rhyme" with the "reason," Those two incompatible words ! I had as well dreamed of a season Of snow with its roses and birds. Calliope, I d had enough of, Here Shakspere s remark came to aid My brain with a trope: She s the stuff of Which visions are made. Then sudden, with never a warning, A voice at my side bade me write, As if out of darkness the morning Had flooded the landscape with light ; [46J FOR SAYNTE VALENTYNE, HIS DAYE The rhymes came again like the verdure Which lifts to the heavens above, Ah, Sweetheart, t was then that I heard your Lips murmuring love ! FOR SAYNTE VALENTYNE, HIS DAYE GOE, little Rhyme, & greete Her, Goe, tell Her y* I thinke Things infinitely sweeter Y n I maie putt in Inke ; Y e Musick of y e metre Shal linger on y e Aire Y e whiles She turns y e Leaves & learns Y e Secrett hidden there. Flye, little Leafe of Paper, Flye, merrie-hearted Bird, & lett your Fancie shape Her Some dear & simple Word Soe Sweete it sha n t escape Her, & if a Blushe you see Steale upp & chase across Her face, Return & counsell me. Haste, little God! I send Her, Bye You, y s MS, W ch hopefull Love has penned Her Withe quill in Honie dipt ; [47] MADRIGALS AND CATCHES Haste ! bidd Her Heart be tender Unto y e lightsome Line Where I in maske have come to aske To be Her Valentyne ! TO CUPID, FEBRUARY 14 CUPID, goe to Her in haste, Saye my Hearte is hopefull ; Of y e Songes y* She has graced, Here s an Envelope full. Kiss Her once y s be your Fee ; Kiss Her twice for mine ! Kiss Her thrice & three times three, Telle Her you have come to be Her Valentyne ! Cupid, goe in haste to Her, Saye my Hearte is lonely ; Hasten, prettie Messenger, Bring Her to me only Kiss Her once y s be your Fee ; Kiss Her twice for mine ! I shall kiss Her three times three, When you bring Her back to be My Valentyne I [48] ENGAGED ENGAGED TV yi"UTE the music of the fiddle JLVX When we wandered to the door ; Must have been about the middle Of the night, or may be more. Every poising of her face let Loose the rhapsodies of love ; Every movement of her bracelet, Or her glove. After each adieu was bidden, Leisurely we took our leave ; One white hand was half-way hidden In a corner of my sleeve. Foolishly my fancy lingers ! Still, what can a captive do ? Just the pressure of her fingers Thrilled me through. Spoke we of the pleasant dances, Costumes, supper, and the wine ; Gossiped of the stolen glances ; Guessed engagements, mentioned mine. Some old sorrow to her eye lent Tears that trickled while we talked, And I found her growing silent As we walked. MADRIGALS AND CATCHES My engagement ? Queer, why stupid People peddle little lies ! Here, beside us, cunning Cupid Shot his arrows from her eyes ; In my heart a twinge and flutter Followed fast each dart he dealt, And my tongue tried hard to utter What I felt. Standing near the polished newel, With the gas turned very low, Conscience seemed to whisper, " Cruel, Tell the truth before you go 1" So my courage, getting firmer, Set her doubtings all aright ; Tiny hands came with the murmur, " Now, good-night ! " T was the same delicious lisp heard At the dance a merry strain ! True the voice now softly whispered, True she let her hands remain In my own, as if in token Of some wish in sweet eclipse, Cherished lovingly, unspoken By her lips. Long-lashed eyelids gently drooping, Face suffused with scarlet flush, Told the secret, as I, stooping, Kissed the rose-leaf of her blush : [50] A LYRIC Like some happy, sunny island In a sea of joy was I ; Quick she turned her face to smile, and Said " Good-by ! " When we met the morning after, Blithe as any bird was she ; Music mingled with her laughter, Every word was love to me. So the genial Mrs. Grundy, Seeing how our hearts are caged, Tells the truth at church next Sunday " They re engaged ! " A LYRIC LADY, at your lattice I Launch this lyric to the sky On the fragrant tides of musk Dewy blooms exale at dusk ; Love its pilot, only Love Left to haven it above, Left to guide it through the bars Of the twilight to the stars ; And these sentinels who keep Careful vigils o er your sleep Shall to your soft slumber bring This love lyric which I sing ; Thus throughout the summer night Melody shall make delight MADRIGALS AND CATCHES Mingle with your dreams, and be Love s petitioners for me, Till the East shall hint of day, And the stars shall sail away Making music-billows break On your lids and whisper : Wake 1 Till I see your curtain drawn And your rosy face the Dawn ! AN UNTUTORED MIND WHEN I was but a lad of eight, And Dorothy was turning seven, My life seemed spent close by the gate Of what I had imagined Heaven ; So sweet was Dorothy, and mild, To every fault of mine so tender, I grew to love her as a child Accustomed always to befriend her. Through school hours I observed her dress. Plain calico to me was satin ; The habit often cost recess And many weary lines of Latin. She very seldom turned her face, Replete with roses, fair and ruddy ; She seemed to think the school a place For strict deportment and for study. In all the classes she was first ; She graduated, went to college, [52 ] THE VILLAGE SCHOOL Returned most wonderfully versed In every branch and twig of knowledge. Alas ! I wear no savant s cap ! My brain is not a book-condenser ! No doubt she 11 marry that young chap I hear her call " Dear Herbert Spencer ! " THE VILLAGE SCHOOL STILL on the corner stands the school Where my first steps were taken, The butt of public ridicule, Deserted and forsaken ; The belfry no more boasts the bell Whose tumult used to measure My boyhood s hour, and ring the knell To every prank and pleasure. The town has shifted foot by foot As tempore mutantur, And wisdom s wine to-day is put Into a new decanter Whose bright exterior seems to hold A vital essence cheery, Yet just this morning I was told T was dull within and dreary. The boy is father of the man : He lives and thinks as I did When, in short trousers, I began To have my joys divided. [ 53] MADRIGALS AND CATCHES He took me back to this old place So with my youth connected, And looking in the youngster s face This picture was reflected. Out from the pages of my book, Too pictureless for study, I sometimes used to steal a look At one face, round and ruddy ; T was wrong I knew, t was very wrong, And cost me much derision When I was laboring with Long O, very Long Division ! My copy-book with faultless lines Of precept for each letter Was scribbled over with " Be mine "-s, A phrase which I wrote better Than any admonition there : It somehow seemed to nourish My jaded heart to read it where I d penned it with a flourish. No matter how I strived to learn, No matter how I studied, Once give my head the proper turn And then my eyes were flooded ; For there across the room sat she Who balked my brain s endeavor : [54l THE VILLAGE SCHOOL Thought I, one day I 11 whisper " Be " And she 11 be mine forever. Old school among the summer morns And afternoons long dozes Those hours of mingled mental thorns You put some minute-roses ; One one you put to me the best, The sweet face of my story, Who budded, bloomed, then, like the rest, Died in her fullest glory. Ah me, the children you have known, The girl with bird-like laughter, The boy whose penitential moan Pierced to your topmost rafter, Who hears to-day the voice of mirth, Or sorrow s peal, I wonder ! How many yet are on the earth? Alas, how many under ! Fit emblem of the change of time, Minerva s palace-ruin, Take this, a pupil s idle rhyme With love and me and you in ; And may the boy whose school-hours seem To-day so dull and gloomy, Grown up, inherit such a dream As you have pictured to me. [55 1 MADRIGALS AND CATCHES A COLONIAL MISSIVE BY Dorothy in Cambridge town This letter quaint was written To some young chap in cap and gown Whose happy heart was smitten, Long years ago when stately dames Were puffed and powdered Madams, And these were frequent college names, Ware, Eliot, and Adams. The college yard was larger then, The roll of students only Could muster up a hundred men, Think, now-a-days, how lonely ! Yet almost every one of those Who won an A.B. honor Has left a name whose glory throws The laurels thick upon her. Dear Harvard ! It is hard to sing Of this un- Annexed maiden Without forgetting everything Save you. My mind is laden With memories of by-gone days When I was wont to travel To lectures and the triumph blaze Across the paths of gravel, f 56] A COLONIAL MISSIVE Just how this lad and lassie looked, Or what was his or her name Her easy running quill ne er crooked The semblance of a surname, It matters not. I like to think I see her in the creamy Old paper twixt the lines of ink, A face refined and dreamy. I picture her in homespun dress, Each small foot in a sandal, Her features full of tenderness Illumined by a candle, Her quill a feather slim and white Above the square of paper, The hand that guides it left or right Small, and the fingers taper. Those were the days of waxen seals And " f "-ish looking " s "-es, Of high-heeled boots and spinning-wheels On which they spun their dresses ; And in this missive one may find Such candor in a sentence T would bring, if one were half inclined, A sinner to repentance. T is faded somewhat since it felt Her fingers smooth its features, And with it Father Time has dealt As with us human creatures : [57 1 MADRIGALS AND CATCHES A wrinkle wreathes its inky smile And hides the comma-dimple, And makes it seem severe in style Which is severely simple. Ah, Cambridge Dorothy, I know As long as you were living A rose-face framed in locks of snow, His love had no misgiving ; And this love-letter which you penned, Fast deepening to yellow, Seems thus to whisper : Like me y Friend, Let love make thy life mellow ! GOOD-NIGHT r T^HE white stars blossom in the skies, A Like daisies strewn in azure aisles ; I miss but two, the gentle eyes That greet me with your smiles. Love s small astronomy is mine Who missing these miss all the rest : I hate these rival lights that shine To mock my lonely quest. Good-night, and may the angels keep Their faithful watches o er each lid, Behind whose fringes, bathed in sleep, A turquoise sky is hid. A PACIFIC DAWN SONNETS BREEZES OF MORNING ONCE, when the doors of night were open thrown, I saw the pink-robed Dawn, as one who sees A rose-bud opening by slow degrees, Step from the Orient, a golden zone About her waist : then, sudden, softly blown On fragile blossom-bugles by the breeze, I heard the fragrant roll-call of the bees And saw them troop responsive to the tone. And as I watched them drain their cups of dew, And saw them dart and flash their saffron stripes In all the opal radiance of dawn, The mythic age seemed merged into the new, And Pan once more upon his slender pipes Called to the dance the nimble nymph and faun. A PACIFIC DAWN WHEN pale Selene, in her crescent boat, Sails down unto the margin of the West Through shoals of stars that twinkle in unrest, In fancy s bark I follow her, and float O er sapphire seas to dreamy realms remote, And at my side there goes a feathered guest I 59] MADRIGALS AND CATCHES Who sings to cheer me, and the air is blest With melody responsive to his note. On, on I journey in the starry wake, And all about me is the purple dark Whence blow the winds by which my bark is borne ; And suddenly the poppy fetters break, The moon is gone, and in the field a lark Pays tribute to the faint Pacific morn. A BUTTERFLY IN WALL STREET WNGED wanderer from clover meadows sweet, Where all day long beneath a smiling sky You drained the wild-flowers cups of honey dry And heard the drowsy winds their love repeat, What idle zephyr, whispering deceit, Captured your heart and tempted you to fly Unto this noisy town and vainly pry Into the secrets of this busy street ? To me your unexpected presence brings A thought of fragrant pastures, buds and flowers, And sleepy brooks, and cattle in the fold ; Or, watching as you soar on trembling wings, I think for those who toil through weary hours You are a type of their uncertain gold ! [60] STRATEGY THE DANCING GYPSY UPON a mottled, tawny leopard-skin Spread in the sunshine on the dusty ground, Stood she, a gypsy girl; and, circled round, Sat dusky youths who made a merry din With wild, barbaric drums, while she, within, A graceful figure, by no garments bound, Danced to the tambourine s discordant sound, And mocked the instrument s delirious spin. Outside the ring were grouped some Arab boys, Who chattered glibly in the golden sun, And sang weird strains of song by fits and starts ; They seemed unconscious of the swelling noise, Yet he alone was so, her chosen one : For all the rest, she danced upon their hearts ! STRATEGY Ti yrUSE, grant me some new simile to sing JLVA Her matchless grace and loveliness, and tell What words shall fit the lyric s measure well, What metre smooth unto her lips to bring : Then shall my song be like an antique ring In whose small circlet precious jewels dwell, Each line a gem to bribe the sentinel That guards her heart against Love s eager king. [61 ] MADRIGALS AND CATCHES Then as she lends her eyes to read my song Perchance her heart its portals wide will throw And give admittance to Love s messenger, Who, summoning his king s impatient throng, Shall capture it, and come to let me know How easily he won a truce from her. RE-AWAKENING WITHIN a spot where slept the silent dead, I wandered once when spring had kissed the earth, And set around its breast an emerald girth Of grass, entangling roses white and red ; Among the leafy branches overhead The mating robins twittered in their mirth, All nature seemed rejoicing in new birth Beneath the canopy the blue skies spread : And as I sat beside one mossy stone Kissed by a hundred suns of summer skies, A sudden joy came to my heart, alone Among those graves, to think the dead shall rise In God s eternal spring when sounds are blown On angels instruments in Paradise ! [62] A NEW YEAR S MASQUE MISS THOMAS S "A NEW YEAR S MASQUE" SHE finds companionship in field and wood, A friendly face in every path and nook ; The skies for her wear no uncertain look ; She comprehends the mystery and mood Of winds and waves and Heaven s starry brood ; She knows the message of the bird and brook ; For her all Nature is an open book, And solitary means not solitude. With this small volume as your talisman, When all the world is shrouded in the snows, Sit down and read these music-making words : And winter s blasts shall seem the winds that fan Your face in June sweet with the breath of rose, And tremulous with twitterings of birds ! MADRIGALS AND CATCHES FRENCH FOLLIES COME, PAN, AND PIPE COME, Pan, and pipe upon the reed, And make the mellow music bleed, As once it did in days of yore, Along the brook s leaf-tangled shore, Through sylvan shade and fragrant mead. On Hybla honey come and feed, To tempt the Fauns in dance to lead The Dryads on the mossy floor, Come, Pan, and pipe ! To-day the ghosts Gold, Gain, and Greed, The world pursues with savage speed : Forgotten is your magic lore. Oh, bring it back to us once more ! For simple, rustic song we plead : Come, Pan, and pipe 1 WHEN TWILIGHT COMES WHEN twilight comes, and nature stills The hum that haunts the dales and hills, Dim shadows deepen and combine, And Heaven with its crystal wine The cups of thirsty roses fills. AN OLD RONDO Blithe birds, with music-burdened bills, Hush for a space their tender trills, And seek their homes in tree and vine When twilight comes. Soft melody the silence thrills, Played by the nymphs along the rills ; And where the dew-kist grasses twine, The toads and crickets tattoo fine Drums to the fife of whip-poor-wills, When twilight comes. AN OLD RONDO HER scuttle Hatt is wondrous wide, All furrie, too, on every side ; Soe out She trippeth daintylie, To lett y e Youth full well to see How fayre y e mayde is for y e Bryde. A lyttle puffed, may be, bye Pryde, She yet soe lovely e is that I d A Shillynge give to tye, perdie, Her scuttle Hatt. Y e Coales into y e Scuttle slide, Soe in her Hatt wolde I, and hide To steale some Kisses two or three ; But synce She never asketh me, Y e scornful Cynick doth deride Her scuttle Hatt ! [65! MADRIGALS AND CATCHES BEHIND HER FAN BEHIND her fan of downy fluff, Sewed on soft saffron satin stuff, With peacock feathers, purple-eyed, Caught daintily on either side, The gay coquette displays a puff : Two blue eyes peep above the buff : Two pinky pouting lips, . . . enough ! That cough means surely come and hide Behind her fan. The barque of Hope is trim and tough, So out I venture on the rough, Uncertain sea of girlish pride. A breeze ! I tack against the tide, Capture a kiss and catch a cuff, Behind her fan. HER CHINA CUP HER china cup is white and thin ; A thousand times her heart has been Made merry at its scalloped brink ; And in the bottom, painted pink, A dragon greets her with a grin. The brim her kisses loves to win ; The handle is a manikin, [661 TO CUPID Who spies the foes that chip or chink Her china cup. Muse, tell me if it be a sin : I watch her lift it past her chin Up to the scarlet lips and drink The Oolong draught. Somehow I think I d like to be the dragon in Her china cup ! TO CUPID CUPID, tell me how to twine Words like roses in a line, Fit my lady s eyes to greet, For her red lips to repeat That her heart may fathom mine. How to make each sentence shine Love with modest speech combine How to set her heart a-beat Cupid, tell me ! Tell me, may I dare to sign All the love and fancies fine All the thoughts and secrets sweet, That I lay before her feet ? Does she love her Valentine ? Cupid, tell me ! [67! MADRIGALS AND CATCHES "AWAKE, AWAKE!" AVAKE, awake, O gracious heart, There s some one knocking at the door ! The chilling breezes make him smart; His little feet are tired and sore. Arise, and welcome him before Adown his cheeks the big tears start : Awake, awake, O gracious heart, There s some one knocking at the door ! T is Cupid come with loving art To honor, worship, and implore ; And lest, unwelcomed, he depart With all his wise, mysterious lore, Awake, awake, O gracious heart, There s some one knocking at the door ! TO MY LOVE OUTSIDE, the blasts of winter blow Across the city clad in white ; Each flake of madly driven snow A demon seems, with teeth that bite ; The windows rattle as with fright, And winds the chimney whistle through : Alone with memory, to-night, I m happy, thinking, love, of you. [68] VALENTINE TO AN ANONYMOUS MISS Within, I watch the embers glow ; The slender flames in sudden flight Leap from the crackling logs, and throw Around the room a golden light ; Romantic tales their tongues recite, And mellow songs, as if they knew, Alone with memory, to-night, I m happy, thinking, love, of you. From Dreamland all my fancies flow ; My friendly books, with faces bright, Return my listless gaze, and show No sign of sorrow at the slight. Hark ! from the steeple s dizzy height The bells the air with echoes strew : "Alone with memory, to-night, I m happy, thinking, love, of you." Envoy Love, let this song of mine invite Your sweeter voice to echo, too ; " Alone with memory, to-night, I m happy, thinking, love, of you ! " VALENTINE TO AN ANONYMOUS MISS GOLDEN locks in cunning curl ; Eyes like jewels set in rings ; Teeth, a row of polished pearl ; Lips two rosy blossomings ; MADRIGALS AND CATCHES Spryly to my side he springs : Pray, who is this fairy fine ? At my feet he coyly flings " Will you be my Valentine ? " Ah, my brain is in a whirl, Thinking on such dainty things 1 T is young Cupid ; see him furl At his back two tiny wings 1 Just between, a quiver swings, Dipt in love s delicious wine, To each dart the flavor clings " Will you be my Valentine ? " Watching, I shall see him hurl Recklessly these sugared stings ; Shaped like lips of some sweet girl Is the bow his shoulder slings Silken hair twined for the strings. Snap! What ails this heart of mine, Clamoring with questionings ? " Will you be my Valentine ? " Envoy Muse, unto the maid who sings For my ears this teasing line, This reply the echo brings ; " Will you be my Valentine ? " [70] A COQUETTE A COQUETTE SHE wears a most bewitching bang, Gold curls made captive in a net ; Her dresses with precision hang ; Her hat observes the stylish set ; She has a poodle for a pet, And drives a dashing drag and pony ; I know it, though we Ve never met, I Ve seen her picture by Sarony. Her phrases all are fraught with slang, The very latest she can get ; She sings the songs that Patience sang, Can whistle airs from " Olivette," And, in the waltz, perhaps, might let You squeeze her hand, with gems all stony I know it, though we Ve never met, I Ve seen her picture by Sarony. Her heart has never felt love s pang, Nor known a momentary fret ; Want never wounds her with his fang ; She likes to run Papa in debt ; She 11 smoke a slender cigarette Sub rosa with a favored crony : I know it, though we Ve never met, I Ve seen her picture by Sarony. [71 1 MADRIGALS AND CATCHES Envoy Princess, beware this gay coquette ! She has no thoughts of matrimony : I know it, though we ve never met, I Ve seen her picture by Sarony. A SWELL HIS forehead he fringes and decks With carefully cut Montagues ; He angles his arms semi-X, And dresses in delicate hues ; His haunts are the rich avenues ; Staccato is somewhat his gait ; It takes but a wink to amuse His sadly impoverished pate. His costumes are covered with checks ; He travels in taper-toed shoes Through Vanity Fair, there to vex The silly young heart that he wooes ; He s clever with cards and with cues, And banters with Fortune and Fate : Alas, that the lad cannot lose His sadly impoverished pate ! He s fond of the frivolous sex ; His light conversation he strews With "toffy," aught else would perplex The topic his fancy pursues ; OF RHYME The cud of contentment he chews, While women and wealth on him wait ; And nature with nothing endues His sadly impoverished pate. Envoy Fair princesses, all who peruse This ballade, beware, ere too late, Lest Opulence hear you abuse His sadly impoverished pate ! OF RHYME WHEN blossoms born of balmy spring Breathe fragrance in the pleasant shade Of branches where the blue-birds sing, Their hearts with music overweighed ; When brooks go babbling through the glade, And over rocks the grasses climb To greet the sunshine, half-afraid, How easy t is to write a rhyme I When invitations are a-wing For gay Terpsichore s parade ; When dreamy waltzes stir the string And jewels flash on rich brocade, Where Paris dresses are displayed, And slippered feet keep careful time : In winter, when the roses fade, How easy t is to write a rhyme ! [73 1 MADRIGALS AND CATCHES When by your side, with graceful swing, Some fair-faced, gentle girl has strayed, Willing and glad to have you bring Your claims for love and get them paid In kisses, smiles, and words that aid The bells of bliss to better chime ; When Cupid s rules are first obeyed, How easy t is to write a rhyme ! Envoy Reader, forgive me, man or maid, Against Calliope this crime ; And let this brief ballade persuade How easy t is to write a rhyme ! TO AUSTIN DOBSON FROM the sunny climes of France, Flying to the west, Came a flock of birds by chance, There to sing and rest : Of some secrets deep in quest, Justice for their wrongs, Seeking one to shield their breast, One to write their songs. Melodies of old romance, Joy and gentle jest, Notes that made the dull heart dance With a merry zest ; [741 TO AUSTIN DOBSON Maids in matchless beauty drest, Youths in happy throngs ; These they sang to tempt and test One to write their songs. In old London s wide expanse Built each feathered guest, Man s small pleasure to enhance, Singing him to rest, Came, and tenderly confessed, Perched on leafy prongs, Life were sweet if they possessed One to write their songs. Envoy Austin, it was you they blest : Fame to you belongs ! Time has proven you re the best One to write their songs. LYRICS FOR A LUTE FANCY LYRICS FOR A LUTE TO FANCY FROM what mystery of space Come you, miracle of grace ! Lighting up the realm of dream With a transitory gleam ? Phantom of the poet s brain ! From what shadowy domain Come you secretly, unsought, Making music of his thought, Bringing him the gift of rhyme At an unexpected time ? Is there any magic lure That will win you quick and sure ? Is there any fetter strong That will hold you, soul of song? Tell me, Fancy, so that I May not let you slip me by ! THE HARBOR OF DREAMS ONLY a whispering gale Flutters the wings of the boat ; Only a bird in the vale Lends to the silence a note Mellow, subdued, and remote : [791 LYRICS FOR A LUTE This is the twilight of peace, This is the hour of release, Free of all worry and fret, Clean of all care and regret, When, like a bird in its nest, Fancy lies folded to rest. This is the margin of sleep ; Here let the anchor be cast ; Here in forgetfulness deep, Now that the journey is past, Lower the sails from the mast. Here is the bay of content, Heaven and earth interblent ; Here is the heaven that lies Close to the gates of surprise ; Here all like Paradise seems, Here is the harbor of dreams. BREATH OF SONG FROM the minster s organ-loft, Floating down the shadowed nave, Comes a strain of music soft, Falling as a weary wave Falls upon the beach of sand, Murmurous and sweet and bland, Bearing from the mighty sea Messages of melody. [80] " BREATH OF SONG There, alone, the organist, Lets his listless fingers go Lost in a melodious mist O er the keyboard, to and fro : There, half-dreaming, in the gloom, Sits the weaver at his loom, Weaving with the threads of sound Music-woof the warp around. All unconsciously he hides Strains familiar in his theme, When a master-spirit glides Through the doorway of his dream ; Mozart, Handel, Chopin, or Harmony s great conjuror Rapt Beethoven ! each is part Of the dreaming player s heart. So the Poet dreams, nor heeds Who may listen, who may hear ; Following where Fancy leads, She alone to him is dear : Omar, Keats, Theocritus, In his voice may speak to us From the realm of ages dim These are in the heart of him ! Poets in the fields of Time, Since the world began, have sown Wide the precious seeds of rhyme, And to us to-day are blown [81 ] LYRICS FOR A LUTE Odors from these poem-flowers Seedlings of the later hours Blossoming the fields along, Breathing the sweet breath of song. OMAR KHAYYAM A Naishapur his ashes lie O ershadowed by the mosque s blue dome ; There folded in his tent of sky The star of Persia sleeps at home. The Rose her buried Nightingale Remembers, faithful all these years ; Around his grave the winds exhale The fragrant sorrow of her tears. Sultans and slaves in caravans Since Malik Shah have gone their way, And ridges in the Kubberstans Are their memorials to-day. But from the dust in Omar s tomb A Fakir has revived a Rose, Perchance the old, ancestral bloom Of that one by the mosque which blows; And from its petals he has caught The inspiration Omar knew, Who from the stars his wisdom brought, A Persian Rose that drank the dew. [ 82 1 REVERY The Fakir now in dust lies low With Omar of the Orient ; Fitzgerald, shall we call him ? No : T was Omar in the Occident ! REVERY c. s. GIVE me my happy poet s book And let me find a sylvan nook, Far from the noisy world apart, And near enough to Nature s heart To hear it throb and feel it thrill, Yet wonder why t is all so still. There, thick with leaves, the branches spread Their canopy of green o erhead, Through which in sudden wind-torn rifts The sun its dusty copper sifts; And there a dreamy brook runs by, A slender strip of twilight sky, Starred with its ripples, and its moon A lily lying in a swoon Upon its bosom, wan and white As that pale wanderer of night. Birds in the arching boughs above Fluting their melodies of love ; LYRICS FOR A LUTE Bees in the distance humming where The blossom s honey scents the air ; And, where the wild-flowers cluster, hosts Of Psyches hovering like ghosts Around the fragrant, curtained glooms, Clouding the air with winged blooms. There with my book, a flagon filled With wine of song the poet spilled From cups of love s sweet overflow In happy riot, long ago, With Herrick, from whose well-tuned lute First grew the lyric bud and fruit, There, in the shifting sun and shade, In fancy, I shall see that maid To whom his songs, each one of them Clean cut and finished as a gem, He sang, until her every grace Found in his limped verse a place, That she with him might live as long As man is moved by love and song! Oh, that we, too, who touch the string To-day and set it quivering, Whose hearts have caught one little spark Of rhyme in this prosaic dark, Unto our verses might but give That subtile touch to make them live, Like Herrick s, after we are gone ! That all our lines might linger on ISRAFEL The lips of those who later shall Love lyric brief and madrigal ; And immortality for us In melody be vouchsafed thus ! AT MIDNIGHT SEE, yonder, the belfry tower That gleams in the moon s pale light ; Or is it a ghostly flower That dreams in the silent night ? I listen and hear the chime Go quavering o er the town, And out of this flower of Time Twelve petals are wafted down. ISRAFEL FROM Paradise what soul with wings In yonder green spray hides and sings, Weaving within the fragrant gloom Song-fabrics on the morning s loom ? T is Israfel returned to us, Making the world melodious : He, he it is who sows the air, With seeds of music everywhere, Until the charmed space around Grows sweet with blossomings of sound. [85] LYRICS FOR A LUTE In ecstasy the fields lie mute, Spelled by the magic of his lute ; The trees are hushed the while to hear The cadence falling liquid-clear ; The winds hold in their breath, lest they Cheat of one dulcet note the day ; And through the meadow, lisping low, The naiads silver-sandaled go, Or drowsy grown beside the streams, Lie drinking music s wine of dreams; And I, enraptured, in the dell Pause, listening to Israfel : Oblivious of all beside, Dreaming, I drift upon the tide Of melody until my eyes Picture him there in Paradise, When lo, there comes a sudden hush; T is earth, and yonder soars a thrush ! BACKLOG DREAMS A3OVE the glowing embers I hear the backlog sing The music it remembers Of some remembered Spring; Back to the branch forsaken Return its jocund choir And in the chimney waken A melody of fire. [86] BACKLOG DREAMS The sparks red blossoms glisten And flash their glances brief At me who lean and listen And dream I hear the leaf, On some May morning sunny, Low lisping in the tree, Or, in his haunt of honey, A bloom-enamored bee : Or t is the soft wind blowing Its sweetness from the South, A fragrant kiss bestowing Upon the rose s mouth; And ere the spell is broken, Or darkness o er it slips, I see the scarlet token Of love upon her lips. Without, the storm is bitter, The snowflakes fill the night; Within, the embers glitter And gild the room with light; And in the fire-place gleaming The backlog sings away, And mingles all my dreaming With birds and blooms and May. [87] LYRICS FOR A LUTE SORCERY AROSE on a spray where a brown bird sang, Looked down, with a blush on her lovely face, And saw, lying coiled in the fragrant place, A green little snake with a forked fang. Then swift from her cheek fled the crimson blush ; No longer she dreamed of the bird s sweet song ; But trembled with fear, lest the poisoned prong Should strike and the lyric forever hush. And lo, when the serpent had slipped away, And vanished the bird in the blue above, Two maids in the morning of new-found love Bent over the bloom on the slender spray ! And one in her heart felt a strange delight, A thought of the bird made the rose blush red ! And one in her heart felt a sudden dread, A thought of the snake made the rose blanch white ! MOTHS GHOSTS of departed winged things, What memories are those That tempt you with your damask wings Here where my candle glows ? [ 88 ] ON A GREEK VASE Vainly you hover, circling oft The tongue of yellow flame : A tiger by caresses soft You vainly seek to tame. Here is no hope for you : nay, here Death lurks within the light, To leap upon you flying near And sweep you from the night ! Moon-butterflies, back to your blooms Born of the dew and stars ! Hence, ghosts, and find again your glooms Hidden by shadow-bars ! Quick, speed across the dusky blue, Lest, in a sudden breath, This tawny tiger wake, and you Endure a second death ! ON A GREEK VASE DIVINELY shapen cup, thy lip Unto me seemeth thus to speak " Behold in me the workmanship The grace and cunning of a Greek ! " Long ages since he mixed the clay, Whose sense of symmetry was such, The labor of a single day Immortal grew beneath his touch. [89] LYRICS FOR A LUTE " Far dreaming while his fingers went Around this slender neck of mine, The form of her he loved was blent With every matchless curve and line. " Her loveliness to me he gave Who gave unto herself his heart, That love and beauty from the grave Might rise and live again in art." And hearing from thy lips this tale Of love and skill, of art and grace, Thou seem st to me no more the frail Memento of an older race ; But in thy form divinely wrought And figured o er with fret and scroll, I dream, by happy chance was caught, And dwelleth now that maiden s soul. MOODS UPON a mountain-summit high, A trysting place of earth and sky, Three friends once stood in silent awe, Each contemplating what he saw. One gazing on the landscape found In changing features only sound : To him it was a memory Of some majestic symphony. [90] FULFILMENT Another in the vastness caught, The essence of a poet s thought, The measures of a noble rhyme Enduring as eternal time. The third, a stranger to those arts That moved and thrilled his comrades hearts, Remembered with a nameless dread The face of one whom he saw dead. FULFILMENT IN the hush of the night he heard A voice, and his heart said, " Hark ! " And the song of a distant bird Went quavering through the dark. Like a lost little child it sobbed As far as the purple hill, And the valley with music throbbed A moment, then all was still. Then the heart in his bosom cried, "Alas, tis a grievous wrong That the multitude be denied The sweetness of such a song : u T were a poet s divinest art The words of that song to write ! " So he wrote for the eager heart The song of the bird at night. [91 1 LYRICS FOR A LUTE And it went like the night-bird s voice Out into a world of gloom ; And his heart had its dearest choice, And slept in a poet s tomb ! w MNEMOSYNE S MIRROR HEN Summer comes and brings the rose, My glass the winter s landscape shows : The spectral wood and shrouded field, The garden s lips in silence sealed, The north-wind s icy bitter breath As t were the stirrup-cup of death ; The pulseless brook, the absent song, The sunlight brief and shadows long. But comes December s day, and then My mirror shows me June again : The garden s million lips of bloom Speaking their language of perfume ; The lyric quavers of the thrush Shot, arrow like, across the hush ; The laughing brook, the lisping leaf, The sunlight long and shadows brief. Grant me, Mnemosyne, when old, This magic mirror still to hold, Transforming Time in such a way That I shall see Youth s yesterday [92 1 ATTAINMENT Reflected there, and view once more My boat upon Life s morning shore : What else I heed not take from me ; Leave but this glass of memory ! TIME S SONG THE days come, And the days go ! The bees hum Where the roses blow : The days go, And the leaves burn : The birds know, And to home return. The days come, And the days go ! And all dumb Lies the world in snow: The days go, And the year s rhyme Is made so By the poet, Time 1 ATTAINMENT FROM the marble of his thought Are the poet s fancies wrought Into forms of symmetry, Into rhyme and melody : [93] LYRICS FOR A LUTE Not by any magic feat Comes the statue forth complete ; Only patient labor, long, Can create the perfect song ; Only love that does not tire Can attain its high desire, Love that deems no gift of time Wasted, so it win the rhyme One elusive word to start Life within the lyric s heart. Still the Parthenon for us Jewel of Pentelicus Fashioned centuries ago Shines with undiminished glow; Still the resurrected bust, Buried ages in the dust, Holds to-day its honored place By the marvel of its grace; So the poet s song shall shine For the jewel of one line ; So his lyric shall endure Be the carven marble pure. Toil he must if he would win Heaven s gate and enter in ; Labor of a life-time give That the sculptured verse shall live ! [941 PERPETUITY ALLAH S HOUSE N AN AC, the faithful, pausing once to pray, From holy Mecca turned his face away. A Moslem priest, who chanced to see him there Forgetful of the attitude in prayer, Cried, " Infidel, how durst thou turn thy feet Toward Allah s house the sacred temple s seat ? " To whom the pious Nanac thus replied : " Know st thou God s house is, as the world is, wide ? " Thou, turn them if thou canst toward any spot Where mighty Allah s awful house is not ? " PERPETUITY 1 HEARD a sweet voice singing in the night A tender love-song written years ago, To ease a poet s heart of that deep woe Born of long absence from its dear delight ; And as the music like a bird took flight Across the shadowed world and vanished so, I thought of him who wrote it, did he know How Time would keep his jewel-lyric bright ? [95] LYRICS FOR A LUTE O Poet of to-day, whose heart would sing Some simple song of love, and sweet words give To mate the melody that thrills the lute, Sing on, nor heed what lips are murmuring To scorn your art : one perfect song shall live For love and you long after they are mute ! A HOLLYHOCK QUATRAINS SUNRISE BLOOMS in the east when darkness goes A radiant, cloud-petal rose, Out of whose iridescent heart The yellow bees of sunlight dart. MOONRISE WITHIN this silent palace of the Night, See how the moon, like some huge phantom moth, Creeps slowly up across the azure cloth That hangs between the darkness and the light ! A HOLLYHOCK SERAGLIO of the Sultan Bee I I listen at the waxen door, And hear the zithern s melody And sound of dancing on the floor. [971 LYRICS FOR A LUTE WINTER S BEGGAR WHERE heedless winds around him blow, The Tree, a tattered beggar, stands, And reaches out his empty hands To catch the silver of the snow. CONTRAST IN her dark hair a lustrous jewel gleams, A single star upon the edge of night : Dazzling it is, and yet how dull it seems Beside her face, drowned in the morning s light. SUN AND MOON BY day in Allah s azure urn The sun, a fire, is made to burn : And from its ashes there by night The moon, a lily, blossoms white. SURF MUSIC LYING beside the margin of the deep, I hear the music of mysterious streams Sung by the waves ; like voices heard in dreams Moving along the shadowed shore of sleep. [98] LYRICS LYRICS IN Nature s open book An epic is the sea, A lyric is the brook : Lyrics for me ! LYRICS FOR A LUTE LOVE AN OLD SONG OFTENTIMES there come to me Scraps of music-memory That have slept, alas, how long ! In the quiet night of song. I can mark the measured time, I can catch the notes that rhyme, Till it seems I almost hear Whispered words within my ear ; Yet, for all I listen so To them as they come and go, Shreds of only one refrain In my memory remain. Long ago the song was sung, Long ago, when I was young, And my heart in time would beat With the music soft and sweet. There was something that would start Glad emotions in my heart, Something in the words which made Joy grow bright and sorrow fade, Something in the notes of joy Giving courage to the boy Long ago, ere he began Dreaming of the present man. ioo THE LAST LETTER Never comes this strain but I Seem to feel her standing by. Oh, that all the notes might come Back from lips forever dumb, So that I might render whole This marred music of the soul! Oh, that I again might bring Back this song she used to sing ! I should sing it till my eyes, Through a rift in Paradise, Caught a vision of her face Smiling from her dwelling-place ; I should sing it line by line Till her lips should answer mine ; I should sing it o er and o er Till I seemed a boy once more, Till my dream should bring in truth Her who sang it to my youth ! THE LAST LETTER LONG years within its sepulchre Of faintly scented cedar Has lain this letter dear to her Who was its constant reader : The postmark on the envelope Sufficed the date to give her, And told the birth of patient hope That managed to outlive her. LYRICS FOR A LUTE How often to this treasure-box, Tears in her eyes soft fringes, She came with key and turned the locks, And on its brazen hinges Swung back the quaintly figured lid, And raised a sandal cover, Disclosing, under trinkets hid, This message from her lover. Then lifting it as t were a child, Her hand awhile caressed it Ere to the lips that sadly smiled Time and again she pressed it ; Then drew the small inclosure out And smoothed the wrinkled paper, Lest any line should leave a doubt Or any word escape her. Still held the olden charm its place Amid the tender phrases ; Time seemed unwilling to efface The love-pervaded praises : And though a thousand lovers might Have matched them all for passion, A poet were inspired to write In their unstudied fashion. From " Darling " slowly, word by word, She read the tear-stained treasure : [ 102 1 PEPITA The mists by which her eyes were blurred Grew out of pain and pleasure ; But when she reached that cherished name And saw the last leave-taking, The mist a storm of grief became, Her very heart was breaking ! I put it back, this old-time note, Which seems like sorrow s leaven, For she who read, and he who wrote, Please God, are now in heaven. If lovers of to-day could win Such love as won this letter, The world about us would begin To gladden and grow better. PEPITA UP in her balcony where Vines through the lattices run Spilling a scent on the air, Setting a screen to the sun, Fair as the morning is fair, Sweet as a blossom is sweet, Dwells in her rosy retreat Pepita. Often a glimpse of her face, When the wind rustles the vine Parting the leaves for a space, Gladdens this window of mine ; t io 3 ] LYRICS FOR A LUTE Pink in its leafy embrace, Pink as the morning is pink, Sweet as a blossom I think Pepita. I who dwell over the way Watch where Pepita is hid, Safe from the glare of the day, Like an eye under its lid : Over and over I say Name like the song of a bird, Melody shut in a word, " Pepita." Look where the little leaves stir! Look, the green curtains are drawn ! There in a blossomy blur Breaks a diminutive dawn Dawn and the pink face of her ! Name like a lisp of the south, Fit for a rose s small mouth, Pepita ! HER SMILE HIS SUNLIGHT SWEETHEART, when rhymes I make For your dear sake, You bring Into your face a smile To cheer me while I sing [ 104 ] HER SMILE HIS SUNLIGHT Like to that bird am I, Which, when the sky At night A deeper azure grows, No longer knows Delight ; Or like of flowers that one Which loves the sun, And gives The beauty of its bloom To him for whom It lives. Pleasure nor joy to bless Have I unless Your face Over my paper shines And lights the lines With grace. For me your smile is day The golden ray That climbs Imagination s wall And sweetens all My rhymes. For you the bird s song, this ; The flower s fresh kiss And breath ; [ 105] LYRICS FOR A LUTE Nor may their nightfall come Till both are dumb In death ! TO A ROSE GO, Rose, and in her golden hair You shall forget the garden soon ; The sunshine is a captive there And crowns her with a constant noon. And when your spicy odor goes, And fades the beauty of your bloom, Think what a lovely hand, O Rose, Shall place your body in the tomb ! UNDER HER BALCONY UP, slender vine, your love is mine ; I watch you as you go, A lyric budding line on line With blossom rhymes a-row ! Up, up, until her window-sill, Like Heaven s gate in sight, Makes all your heart with hope to fill And bloom with its delight 1 f 106 1 AD ASTRA And when her eyes soft twilight lies Upon you nestled there, When all about you is surprise, And all below, despair, Then to my Sweet, my love repeat ; Yield her one perfect bloom, Which, though it perish at her feet, May, ghostlike, haunt her room. But if her mind and heart be kind, And grant you gracious rest, And for this gift a pillow find, And fold it to her breast, Up, up ! I burn my fate to learn From her who waits above ; Let but a leaf to earth return, Her answer and her love ! AD ASTRA BLOSSOM, little stars, and fill The garden of the sky ; Drops of wine that you distil Upon the grasses lie. Every thirsty blade holds up A blessing to the blue, Every thirsty flower its cup Fills with the heaven s dew. [ 107 1 LYRICS FOR A LUTE Blossom, little stars of love, In my beloved s heart ; Blossom like the stars above, And into gladness start. Far beneath you there is one Who dares a cup to raise : He has thirsted in the sun These many dreary days. Blossom, blossom soon, and bring Love s gladness and the wine To revive the hopes that spring Up in this heart of mine. CONTENTMENT A GIRL to love, a pipe to smoke, Enough to eat and drink ; A friend with whom to crack a joke, And one to make me think ; A book or two of simple prose, A thousand more of rhyme : No matter then how fast Time goes, I take no heed of Time ! The little wife inspires my thought With serious intent ; She cheers me with her wisdom fraught With love and sentiment : I io8l HELIOTROPE Or prose to read, or rhyme to sing, She makes them each sublime : No matter then how Time takes wing, I take no heed of Time ! God grant me that when grown so old Nor pipe nor glass I crave, The little wife and books may hold My heart unto the grave : There let me sleep in peace below The turf, where ivies climb : No matter then how Time shall go, I take no heed of Time ! HELIOTROPE GO, Heliotrope, Unto my Sweet and tell How, like a harbinger of hope, You come to dwell Near her, and pray to rest Upon her breast. Tell her for me In whispers of perfume, How like the golden sun is she, To which your bloom Forever turns its face Beseeching grace. f 109] LYRICS FOR A LUTE Say, even so The blossom of my love Looks from its land of doubt below To her above, Waiting one word to slip Her scarlet lip. Then if you feel Her heart with joy beat fast, Or if with one sweet kiss she seal Your lips at last, And leave you stricken dumb Until I come : Seeing you there Upon her bosom, I Shall know what answer to my prayer She makes, and lie Beside you dumb with bliss, Sealed by her kiss. VALENTINES LOVE, at your door young Cupid stands And knocks for you to come : The frost is in his feet and hands, His lips with cold are numb. [ no] VALENTINES Grant him admittance, sweetheart mine, And by your cheering fire His lips shall loosen as with wine And speak forth my desire. He left me not an hour ago, And when the rascal went Barefooted out into the snow, I asked him whither bent. Quoth he : " To her whose face is like A garden full of flowers : To her whose smiles like sunlight strike Across the winter hours." No more he said, nor need of more Had I to know. I knew His path lay straight unto your door : That face belongs to you ! " God-speed," I cried, " and give her this, When you her face shall see ; " And on his lips I set a kiss, A valentine from me ! ii I care not that the snow lies deep Upon the world about : The hidden flowers, they lie asleep And dream, and never doubt But Spring shall come again and set The rubies on the vine : [ in 1 LYRICS FOR A LUTE The faithful Year shall not forget Her valentine. I care not that a thousand miles Keep me and mine apart, For when upon this page she smiles And gladdens in her heart, Like Spring, the sun returns to me And cheers these eyes of mine : My sweetheart promises to be My valentine. Be still, my heart, and like the flowers Asleep beneath the snow, Dream on, and soon the sunny hours Shall wake you dreaming so : And when the Summer s stars above Drip with their dewy wine, The flowers shall come, and with them, love, And valentine ! ON A .CLOCK LONELY once, my love away, To this slave of Time I cried : " Faster on your journey glide, Let your feet no second stay ; Speed the dreary night and day ! " He, all heedless, obstinate, Never quickened in his gait. TO WINTER Happy once, my love in sight, To this slave of Time I prayed ; " Be your journey slowly made, Loiter with me in delight; Stay the happy day and night ! " Obstinate, he heard at last, Heard, and hurried twice as fast. TO WINTER GOOD Winter, hear this wish I write Before the red leaves blow Across the sky To droop and die, And sleep beneath the snow ; Before the birds have taken flight Unto a gentler clime, And for my thought Have left me naught Of melody or rhyme. The purple clusters in the leaves Of grapes already ripe ; The chestnut burrs Half burst ; the slurs Upon the robin s pipe ; The shrill wind whistling round the eaves ; The dawn s white gossamer [ "3 I LYRICS FOR A LUTE All these awake The wish I make, Good Winter, just for her. My Love, a blossom fair is she ; Lithe as a lily stem : Her voice and words So like the birds Will make you think of them. Good Winter, keep her safe for me, Leave to her face its smile, And to her heart Of love that part Which makes my wish worth while I HIS STARLIGHT YOU who at my elbow sit, By whose eyes my lines are lit, How shall any poet s pen Go amiss or falter when Stars like these shine out above Beacons kindled there by Love Lighting up the paths below Where he wanders to and fro. Is it strange the rhymes should kiss Under such a spell as this ? They but mimic those, my Sweet, Who of old were wont to meet, [ 114] UNSPOKEN Meet and linger at the bars, Making love beneath the stars : We ourselves were happy rhymes In those dear, betrothal times. Take this lyric : every line But reflects the stars that shine O er my shoulder, telling me Of my sweetheart s constancy ! And if any word appear Vague or needless, say you : Here Went a cloud across his skies ; This is where its shadow lies. But should any turn of phrase Win your lips to speak its praise, Know you then the happy thought From your eyes the poet caught : All the graces of his song To those constant stars belong, To those tender eyes that brim Full with love to gladden him. UNSPOKEN LOVE, when we parted, you and I, Who had been friends so many years, How many times a last good-by Rose to the surface of my tears ! LYRICS FOR A LUTE There never once to it you cast A strand of hope its life to save, But watched it to the very last, And saw it sink into its grave. And now to you, away so far, The winging of that spirit-word As futile seems as to a star The flight of some enamored bird SONG SONG like a rose should be ; Each rhyme a petal sweet ; For fragrance, melody, That when her lips repeat The words her heart may know What secret makes them so : Love, only Love ! Go, then, my song, a rose Fashioned of love and rhyme ; Unto her heart disclose That secret old as time, Old, yet forever new ! Go, then, and tell her true : Love, only Love! [ 116] THE NUN S ROSE THE NUN S ROSE OVER the convent wall Clambers a rose-vine sweet, Letting its fragrant blossoms fall Into the dusty street. Hither the weary guest, Drawn by the fresh perfume, Pauses to dream awhile and rest Under the spray of bloom : Lingers to dream of those Who, in their quiet hours, Dwelling within the garden-close, Wander among the flowers. What of their holy deeds Ponders the dreamer there ? Is it the rosaries of beads Counted in silent prayer ? Is it the chants they sing? Is it the fast they keep ? Is it the words of comforting Spoken to those who weep ? Nay, t is of her whose love Moved her to train this vine Over the convent wall above, Breathing a scent like wine. [ 117] LYRICS FOR A LUTE Tokens these blossoms seem Speaking of her pure life : Petals that fall like dream on dream Into a world of strife. MEMORIES LONG time she sat, yet never touched a string, - Her thoughts were all of one far, far away, One dearly loved, whose face to her could bring Desire to play. The tune ah, well she knew it ! and the words So full of tenderness, unsung so long, Hung on her parted lips a flock of birds Without a song. Anon, the music to her finger-tips In swift pulsations from her glad heart went, Then quavered to the song upon her lips The instrument. For suddenly across the strings she swept Her slender hand, and lo, there came at last The melody which had in silence slept The whole year past ! Faintly at first, with every touch it grew More sweet, and filled the charmed air around, And sang within her ears until she knew T was joy she found. [ U8] DIRGE And there, alone, she held the graceful form And sang to it as t were a babe at rest, Singing itself to sleep, and growing warm Against her breast. So, happy in the melody she wrought Upon the old guitar in her embrace, Her eyes grew heavy, closed, and slumber brought Dreams of his face. DIRGE LET a song be softly sung ; Let a prayer be said ; Let a solemn bell be rung ; Love is dead ! With the early buds he came When the snows were fled ; Lightly lisped the leaves his name Overhead : Sang the birds a sweeter strain ; Troops of roses red Followed in a laughing train Where he led : Brighter beamed the stars above, And the soft gales sped Whispering the secret : Love Soon shall wed ! ( 119 1 LYRICS FOR A LUTE Rang the bells in merry chime When the promise spread : Poets strung with beads of rhyme Fancy s thread. Fragrant petals lightly fell Where his feet might tread : Blossoms that he loved so well Were his bed. There he slumbers, pale and cold : Let a tear be shed ; Let a solemn bell be tolled ; Love is dead ! NOCTURNE LOVE, throw thy lattice open to the night, And shame the moon, that doth so sadly shine Upon the world, with that glad face of thine ! Look down upon me with thine eyes more bright Than those of angels from yon dizzy height Of heaven peering out ; and be it mine To feel uplifted to thee, like a vine Led up the trellis ladder by the light ! Then, while the earth in purple shadows deep Lies hushed, and, dreaming, slumber all the birds, And not a whisper wakes the leaves above, [ 120] REMEMBRANCE Listen, and thou shalt hear the lute-strings weep In music soft, mourning to win thy words To make complete their melody of love I D REMEMBRANCE AY to my heart With you comes always fair When you depart T is twilight there. Then love unbars The door of dreams for me, And lights the stars Of memory. LYRICS FOR A LUTE NATURE A GREETING FOR SPRING LET us go forth and meet her As she comes through the eastern gates ; Let us away to greet her Whom the lover-like land awaits In a rapturous mood to bless, All impatient for her caress ; Let us mount up the purple slopes That are murmurous with their hopes ; And the winds speeding on before In their haste to be first shall sing Of the earth s wide floor, That is dotted o er With the emerald steps of Spring. Moses upon the mountains Strikes his rod on the marble snow, Freeing the crystal fountains ; And the streams through the plains below Are her couriers swift, who run In the glow of the golden sun Through the fields on their twinkling feet, With the gladdening promise sweet, She is coming with laughing eyes [ 122] A GREETING FOR SPRING From the Orient s sun-wrapped land, From the land that lies Under tranquil skies Like an opal in Allah s hand. Up at the dawn s first waking From her dreams in the night s long gloom ! Up when the east is breaking Like a rose into scarlet bloom ! When the buds in the branches shine, And the blood of the slender vine From the tip of each tiny stem Oozes out and becomes a gem, Till the world like a queen is drest For a carnival glad and gay, And awaits her guest In the curtained west At the odorous doors of day. Hark ! on the breeze a rally And a rustle of wings is heard ! Over the misty valley Soars a heavenly singing bird, Like a sapphire that burns with song ; And it drops to the earth erelong, Where it kindles a mighty choir Into flames of lyric fire ; And the jewel that falls to earth In the silvery sod is set, And it marks the birth I 123] LYRICS FOR A LUTE Out of winter s dearth Of a delicate violet. Let us go forth and linger At the gates with the sunrise bars ; Watch for her rosy finger As she slips off its ring of stars, And her radiant face which gleams With the joy of the year s sweet dreams, And her eyes like the morning dews, And her cheeks with the wild-flower hues ; Let us watch till the east grows bright With her glorious robe that falls Like a wave of light On the shore of night, And the bird to the valley calls. Oh, for the fragrant presage Of the goddess divinely fair ! Oh, for the flute-like message, Making melody float mid-air ! For the flash of the blue-bird s wings ! For the gush of the woodland springs 1 For the buds in the vine-clad bowers, And the breath of the gentle flowers ! We shall know them at morning, when All the shadows of night are furled ; We shall know them then, It is Spring again, And her smile is upon the world ! [ 124] NOONTIDE NOONTIDE NO leaf is stirring in the tree, The drowsy bird forgets his tune ; The flower, forsaken by the bee, Hangs silent in the glaring noon. Hushed is the murmur of the stream Whose music made the morning sweet, And on its tranquil bosom dream The languid lilies in the heat. And in these cradles gently rocked When idle eddies catch the stems, Their gauzy wings in slumber locked, Repose the dragon-flies like gems. This is the golden hour of rest, When, half his circling journey done, Midway between the east and west The zenith holds the eager sun. And not until his fetters break And fall in shadows on the ground, Shall any slumberers awake, Or Nature know a breath or sound. 125] LYRICS FOR A LUTE THE SKY-SHIP IN the soft wind that blows, Yon cloud-ship of the sky Spreads a white sail and throws A shadow where I lie. And with my dream is blent A breath of spice and gums Out of the Orient Betraying whence she comes. Unto a land remote To fill its rich bazaars Sails this Arabian boat Amid the island stars. And in yon harbor calm Of Heaven s ocean blue, Empties her freight of balm, The twilight s fragrant dew ! A WOODLAND SPRING BENEATH the trees whose lisping brood With every breath of summer wake, And in the grove s green solitude Soft music make, [ 126] A WOODLAND SPRING A sylvan deity her pool Of crystal water deep has hid, Perpetually fresh and cool, The rocks amid. Gray, like a carpet, lies the moss, To shield from ragged stones her feet ; And for a roof the branches cross Above and meet. Birds in these rafters build and mate, And rear their lyric-hearted throng, And teach them well to imitate Her happy song. Hither came I upon a time To rest me in the tranquil shade, Led by a brook whose limpid rhyme Its source betrayed. I watched these minstrels, pair by pair, Come to the fountain s pebbly brink And, pausing first as if in prayer, Dip down and drink. They seemed to know the goddess who Presided o er this woodland spring; And I, who longed to know her too, Bade them to sing. [ 127 1 LYRICS FOR A LUTE Then, as they sang, awhile I knelt In worship at her sylvan shrine ; And even as I prayed I felt Her lips touch mine ! THE NAIAD S CUP THIS is a naiad s drinking cup The water s tireless arm held up ; In it no drops of wine remain, Its chaste lip wears no crimson stain. No footprint by the water s edge Betrays to whom she drank the pledge ; Only this empty cup whose lip Speaks naught of its companionship. Who knows but for this chalice white A star was stolen from the night, From whose clear jewel-grape was drawn The dew of some Parnassian dawn ; And as the precious wine distilled, One drop into the water spilled, Pervading all the purple deep Wherein this naiad lay asleep ! Such potency that flavor knew, Her dream told where this lily grew ; One taste, and she awoke, and then Her eyes saw Arcady again ! [ 128] ETERNITY LANE The East was reddening ; the West Was shepherding the stars to rest ; But ere Apollo s reign began She pledged this loving cup with Pan ! ETERNITY LANE THE fence on either side is down, Or buried under vines and bushes, Save where, determined not to drown, A picket through the tangle pushes. On its gray peak the birds alight And trill their carols brief and tender ; All day a beacon, golden bright, It shines in solitary splendor. But through the creepers leafy wall No gleam of sunlight ever passes To break the night that shadows all The cobwebbed growth of groping grasses. The rain that rattles on the leaves Outside with such a happy laughter, Once captive in this prison, grieves For light and liberty long after. No traveler for years has set His foot upon the pathway hidden ; Nor through the weeds forever wet For years has any horseman ridden. [ 129 1 LYRICS FOR A LUTE No rut remains of wagon-road ; The gateway has no gate to span it ; Only the bat and bulging toad Dare venture past the posts of granite. One dreams, so silent is the place With all its life and light departed, That Time has finished here the race, And now Eternity has started ! STORM THE sun sank red in the dull gray west Like a glowing coal in a bed of ashes ; The river writhed in a mad unrest As it felt the scourge of the wind s keen lashes ; No star outshone on the Night s dark breast Scarred with livid lines of the lightning s flashes ; And he came with a voice of thunder O er the mountains that trembled under, And a sudden thrill Ran from hill to hill, And the valley was dumb with wonder. Then all night long on the tangled strings Of the tempest s lute did the wind awaken Discordant notes from their slumberings, And the forest cried like a soul forsaken. The storm-bird fluttered his dismal wings And the rain-wrapt land like a leaf was shaken ! 1 130] IN THE CLOVER And he called in a voice of thunder O er the mountains that rumbled under, And the hosts of flame From the heavens came, And the valley was filled with wonder. But, lo, dawn smiles, and the misty world Like a pearl is plucked from its ocean dreaming; The storm s dark pinions at last are furled In the fragrant hush of the sun s bright gleaming, And where the arrows of fire were hurled, Lo, the face of Heaven with gladness beaming ! God has silenced the voice of thunder O er the mountains that echoed under, And the bird s sweet song In the air grows strong, And the valley is hushed with wonder ! IN THE CLOVER IN the pasture s clover deep There I love to lie and sleep, Over me the placid sky, Blue save where his golden eye Out of Heaven s window looks In the mirrors of the brooks, That Apollo may behold How like me he too grows old ; [ 131 3 LYRICS FOR A LUTE All about me billows blown, Emerald as Ocean s own, By the drowsy dales that blow, Catching fragrance as they go. Crusoe of that clover isle, There I come to dream awhile, Far from worry, strife, or din, Shut my island home within. Deep-drawn breaths of winy air Are the nectar I drink there ; Hebe ne er her draughts served up Brimming such a sapphire cup ! Thessaly ne er grew a vine Yielding such a sparkling wine, Drinking which t is mine to feel Blissful languor o er me steal ! Give me then that clover bed With its blue roof overhead, There to lie and dream away All the tedious hours of day. Pan shall cheer me with his reed, Fauns shall dance across the mead, Daphnis tend his snowy herds, And Theocritus make words Mingle in soft melody In my slumber-Sicily Set the clover sea amid, As in olden days he did ! WINTER STARLIGHT WINTER STARLIGHT THE air is keen, the sky is clear ; The wind has gone in whispers down ; And, gleaming in the atmosphere, A jewel, lies the lighted town. The winter s mantle stretches white Upon the roofs and streets below ; All hushed the noises of the night Against the bosom of the snow. The Moon from her blue dwelling-place Smiles over all, so pale, so fair, It seems the Earth s wan, winter face Reflected in a mirror there. Far off the lonely trees uplift Their naked branches like the spars Of some deserted ship adrift Under a canopy of stars. It is the darkened world that rides The sea of space, forever drawn By secret winds and mighty tides Unto the harbor of the Dawn ! [ 133 1 LYRICS FOR A LUTE DAYBREAK UNTO his parching lips a cup Brimming with wine the hills hold up, Fresh with the breath of bud and bloom, Cooled in the caves of purple gloom. One long, deep draught he takes, and then Into his saddle leaps again, Scatters the gold coins left and right, And speeds beyond the gates of night : The Years are at his heels, away ! The Sun still leads them by a day. ASPIRATION ^ ; BOOKS :,, -..- ASPIRATION T T TITHIN the meadow of Time s book VV Let my song be the laughing brook That sings along its silver way As t were a dryad gone astray, Seeking by music s balm to bless The hunger of its loneliness. Let all my lines like ripples run Forever mirroring the sun ; Gay as the light lisp of a leaf, Unmarred by any gust of grief ; Sweet as the soft south wind that blows Its tender love-song to the rose. So, later, if my rhymes be read By maid or youth, it may be said : No melancholy strain he knew ; His skies were always bright and blue. Life seemed for him to slip along As smoothly as his limpid song. Which, in its grace and simple art, Echoes the gladness in his heart. LYRICS FOR A LUTE THE FLY-LEAF TO THE READER FRIEND, stay your steps awhile before You pass within the open door ; Bethink you in what manner you Shall greet the host ; consider, too, How to a feast of all his best The author here invites his guest, To taste his meat and drink his wine, On every dish to freely dine. And, mind you, when you come to sit > Before the board whereon his wit And wisdom are all spread to make A meal for your mind s stomach s sake, To bear yourself with dignity And treat your host with courtesy. If any dish before you placed By any chance offend your taste, Or if the food seem wanting aught Of proper seasoning, say naught. Eat quietly, and when you go Forget not gratitude to show ; And, being gone, if you repent The precious time that you have spent, Or think that you have poorly fared Upon the food and drink prepared, Curse not this book the wine and meat So kindly offered you to eat. [ 136] THE LIBRARY The author, too, spare from your curse, And do not go from bad to worse ; You were his guest, this recollect, And treat him only with respect. Keep your opinions to yourself, And put the book back on the shelf. Think this : what one may eat, and die, Another s taste may satisfy. THE LIBRARY GIVE me the room whose every nook Is dedicated to a book : Two windows will suffice for air And grant the light admission there ; One looking to the south, and one To speed the red, departing sun. The eastern wall from frieze to plinth Shall be the Poet s labyrinth, Where one may find the lords of rhyme From Homer s down to Dobson s time : And at the northern side a space Shall show an open chimney-place, Set round with ancient tiles that tell Some legend old, and weave a spell About the firedog-guarded seat, Where, musing, one may taste the heat : Above, the mantel should not lack For curios and bric-a-brac, LYRICS FOR A LUTE Not much, but just enough to light The room up when the fire is bright. The volumes on this wall should be All prose and all philosophy, From Plato down to those who are The dim reflections of that star ; And these tomes all should serve to show How much we write how little know; For since the problem first was set No one has ever solved it yet. Upon the shelves along the west The scientific books shall rest ; Beside them, History ; above, Religion, hope, and faith, and love: Lastly, the southern wall should hold The story-tellers, new and old ; Haroun al Raschid, who was truth And happiness to all my youth, Shall have the honored place of all That dwell upon the sunny wall ; And with him there shall stand a throng Of those who help mankind along More by their fascinating lies Than all the learning of the wise. Such be the library ; and take This motto of a Latin make To grace the door through which I pass : Hie habitat Felicitas! [ 138] FORGOTTEN BOOKS FORGOTTEN BOOKS OF books I sing, but not of those Which any book-collector knows, The priceless, rare editions, not, But volumes which the World forgot And with them those who wrote, as well, Before they had a chance to sell : Ephemerals that find themselves With the Immortals on my shelves. I name no names, for if I should None would recall them now, nor could A word of mine bring any one Out of its long Oblivion. The ink on many fly-leaves still Looks quite as fresh as when the quill On each inscribed an author s name, And signed his title there to Fame Without one solitary fear About its being proven clear. One has its pages still uncut, Clean, kept ironically shut By him whose name therein is penned Above : From his devoted Friend. But not infrequently I come Across the imprint of a thumb, Or in the paragraphs I find A pleasing sentence underlined, LYRICS FOR A LUTE Or neatly on the margin set A compliment in epithet : Each one of these, I m satisfied, Was read before its author died. And there is one among them all, Morocco-bound, gilt-edged, and small, Filled with the amatory rhymes Of ante-Tennysonian times, Stiff in their phraseology And rather rough in melody. T is Dedicated unto Her By Her Unworthy Worshipper. And just below is written, " These Many and pleasing Melodies, Dear Win. writ in 98, & tmto Me did Dedicate" This one was read and read again, And annotated by her pen : And this fulfilled the Author s hopes, Repaid the toil of all his tropes, And had, at least his span of life, One constant reader in his wife. TO HIS BOOKS GO, little book with heart of rhyme, This is our last leave-taking time : For you the journey stretches long, With naught to cheer you save a song ; [ 140! TO HIS BOOKS For me, alas ! when you depart, A doubtful, desolated heart. I have but slender hope to give To gladden such a fugitive. The world may greet you well or ill, Seeing your way lies all up hill : But o er that summit dim and far I catch a glimpse of one sure star Which shines to guide you and to bring You ever closer there to sing. Little I care for praise or blame Unless it whispers of her name : Her praise is inspiration s breath ; Her scorn were aspiration s death ! Go, then, and if she welcome you I care not what the world may do ! LITTLE-FOLK LYRICS LITTLE-FOLK LYRICS TO THE LITTLE READERS \ T 7HEN I was young, and long before V V The Muse came tapping at my door, What curious things I used to dream ! How very true they all did seem ! And when I went to bed at night I begged my mother to recite The Tales of Oiue-upon-a-Time, All written down in simple rhyme. How eagerly I listened, and How far I went in Fairy-land ! And these same songs she sang to me Still murmur in my memory. For me she made the world anew, A jewel of each drop of dew ; The autumn leaves of golden tint Were coins come freshly from the mint ; The birds were poets all, who sang ; The flowers were bells the fairies rang ; And everything I saw became Another, with another name. So, little folk, these verses from The rosary of childhood come [ 145] LITTLE-FOLK LYRICS For you to string on Fancy s line, To be your joy as they were mine, To be your joy, and so to bless Your hearts with song and happiness! BLOSSOMS OUT of my window I could see But yesterday, upon the tree, The blossoms white, like tufts of snow That had forgotten when to go. And while I looked out at them, they Seemed like small butterflies at play, For in the breeze their flutterings Made me imagine them with wings. I must have fancied well, for now There s not a blossom on the bough, And out of doors t is raining fast, And gusts of wind are whistling past. With butterflies t is etiquette To keep their wings from getting wet, So, when they knew the storm was near, They thought it best to disappear. [ 146] DAISIES ANEMONE A SCULPTOR is the Sun, I know, Whose shining marble is the snow : All through the winter, day by day, He with his golden chisel-ray Toils patiently that he may bring A statue forth to honor Spring ; And when she comes, behold it there, A blossom in the gentle air, A form of gracious symmetry, A fragile white anemone ! DAISIES AT evening when I go to bed I see the stars shine overhead ; They are the little daisies white That dot the meadow of the Night. And often while I m dreaming so, Across the sky the Moon will go ; It is a lady, sweet and fair, Who comes to gather daisies there. For, when at morning I arise, There s not a star left in the skies ; She s picked them all and dropped them down Into the meadows of the town. 1 147] LITTLE-FOLK LYRICS SPRING S COMING THE woodland brooks that murmur as they go In silver ripples through the fringing grass Are harp-strings touched by God : the winds that blow Are Spring s gay children, singing as they pass. And where the sod is trodden by their feet, The Earth, all gladdened by youth s warmer blood, Puts forth her fragile urns of odors sweet The violet and fragrant crocus bud. GOLDEN-ROD SPRING is the morning of the year, And summer is the noontide bright ; The autumn is the evening clear That comes before the winter s night. And in the evening, everywhere Along the roadside, up and down, I see the golden torches flare Like lighted street-lamps in the town. I think the butterfly and bee, From distant meadows coming back, Are quite contented when they see These lamps along the homeward track. [ 148 ] JANUARY But those who stay too late get lost; For when the darkness falls about, Down every lighted street the Frost Will go and put the torches out. JANUARY JANUARY, bleak and drear, First arrival of the year, Named for Janus, Janus who, Fable says, has faces two ; Pray, is that the reason why Yours is such a fickle sky ? First you smile, and to us bring Dreams of the returning spring ; Then, without a sign, you frown, And the snowflakes hurry down, Making all the landscape white, Just as if it blanched with fright, You obey no word or law ; Now you freeze, and then you thaw, Teasing all the brooks that run With the hope of constant sun, Chaining all their feet at last Firm in icy fetters fast. Month of all months most contrary, Sweet and bitter January ! [ 149 ] LITTLE-FOLK LYRICS FEBRUARY FEBRUARY, fortnights two, Briefest of the months are you, Of the winter s children last. Why do you go by so fast ? Is it not a little strange Once in four years you should change, That the sun should shine and give You another day to live ? May be this is only done Since you are the smallest one ; So I make the shortest rhyme For you, as befits your time : You re the baby of the year, And to me you re very dear, Just because you bring the line, " Will you be my Valentine? " MARCH MARCH ! and all the winds cry, March As they sweep the heavens arch, Polishing the stars that gem Earth s resplendent diadem, Setting all the waters free From the winter s chancery, Sending down an avalanche From the tree s snow-covered branch. 1 150] APRIL March makes clear the frosty track That the birds may hasten back On their northward flight and bring Jocund carols for the Spring. March is merry, March is mad, March is gay, and March is sad ; Every humor we may know If we list the winds that blow. Have you heard the bugle-call Gathering the soldiers all ? March is Spring s own trumpeter, Hailing us to welcome her. APRIL OUTDOORS the white rain coming down Made rivers of the streets in town, And where the snow in patches lay It washed the Winter s signs away. How fast it fell ! How warm it felt ! The icicles began to melt : A silver needle seemed each one Thrust in the furnace of the Sun The Vulcan Sun who forged them all, In raindrops, crystals round and small. The air was filled with tiny ropes On which were strung these April hopes, White water-beads that searched the ground Until the thirsty seeds were found. [ 151 1 LITTLE-FOLK LYRICS Then came blue sky; the streets were clean, And in the garden spots of green Were glistening in golden light, The grass and Spring almost in sight ! A bluebird sang its song near by ; Oh, happy Spring is come, thought I : When all at once the air grew chill, Again the snow-flakes fell until The ground was covered, and the trees Stood in the drifts up to their knees. I think this bird who dared to sing Was premature about the Spring, Or else he joked in manner cool, And caroled lightly, "April Fool!" MAY MAY shall make the world anew ; Golden sun and silver dew, Money minted in the sky, Shall the earth s new garments buy. May shall make the orchards bloom ; And the blossoms fine perfume Shall set all the honey-bees Murmuring among the trees. May shall make the bud appear Like a jewel, crystal clear, Mid the leaves upon the limb Where the robin lilts his hymn. [ 152] JUNE May shall make the wild-flowers tell Where the shining snowflakes fell, Just as though each snowflake s heart, By some secret, magic art, Were transmuted to a flower In the sunlight and the shower. Is there such another, pray, Wonder-making month as May ? JUNE OJUNE ! delicious month of June, When winds and birds all sing in tune ; When in the meadows swarm the bees And hum their drowsy melodies ; O June ! the month of bluest skies, Dear to the pilgrim butterflies, Who seem gay-colored leaves astray, Blown down the amber tides of day ; O June ! the month of merry song, Of shadow brief, of sunshine long ; All things on earth love you the best, The bird who carols near his nest ; The wind that wakes, and, singing, blows The spicy perfume of the rose ; And bee, who sounds his muffled horn To celebrate the dewy morn : And even all the stars above At night are happier for love, [ 153 1 LITTLE-FOLK LYRICS As if the mellow notes of mirth Were wafted to them from the earth. O June ! such music haunts your name, With you the summer s chorus came. JULY JULY, for you the songs are sung By birds the leafy trees among ; With merry carolings they wake The meadows at the morning s break, And through the day the lisping breeze Is woven with their tree-top glees : For you the prattling, pebbly brooks Are full of tales like story-books : For you a fragrant incense burns Within the garden s blossom urns, Which tempts the bees to hasten home With honey for their honeycomb. The river, like a looking-glass, Reflects the fleecy clouds that pass, Until it makes us almost doubt If earth and sky are n t changed about. July, for you, in silence deep, The world seems fallen fast asleep, Save on one glorious holiday, When all our books we put away, And every little maid and man Is proud to be American. [ i54l SEPTEMBER AUGUST AUGUST, month when summer lies Sleeping under sapphire skies. Open all the windows wide, Drink the orchard s fragrant tide, Breath of grass at morning mown Through the leafy vistas blown ; Hear the swishing of the scythe, Sound mellifluent and blithe : August, month when everywhere Music floats upon the air From the harp of minstrel gales, Playing down the hills and dales : August, month when sleepy cows Seek the shade of spreading boughs, Where the birds alight to sing And the fruit hangs ripening: August, month of twilights, when Day half goes, and comes again ; August days are guards who keep Watch while Summer lies asleep. SEPTEMBER HERE S a lyric for September, Best of all months to remember ; Month when summer breezes tell What has happened wood and dell, [ 155 1 LITTLE-FOLK LYRICS Of the joy the year has brought, And the changes she has wrought. She has turned the verdure red ; In the blue sky overhead, She the harvest moon has hung, Like a silver boat among Shoals of stars, bright jewels set In the earth s blue coronet ; She has brought the orchard s fruit To repay the robin s flute Which has gladdened half the year With a music, liquid clear ; And she makes the meadow grass Catch the sunbeams as they pass, Till the autumn s floor is rolled With a fragrant cloth of gold. OCTOBER OCTOBER is the month that seems All woven with midsummer dreams ; She brings for us the golden days That fill the air with smoky haze ; She brings for us the lisping breeze, And wakes the gossips in the trees, Who whisper near the vacant nest Forsaken by its feathered guest. Now half the birds forget to sing, And half of them have taken wing, [ 156! NOVEMBER Before their pathway shall be lost Beneath the gossamer of frost. Now one by one the gay leaves fly Zigzag across the yellow sky ; They rustle here and flutter there ; Until the bough hangs chill and bare. What joy for us what happiness Shall cheer the day, the night shall bless ? T is Hallowe en, the very last Shall keep for us remembrance fast, When every child shall duck the head To find the precious pippin red. NOVEMBER T T 7HO shall sing to bleak November, Y V Month of frost and glowing ember ? Is there nothing then to praise In these thirty chilly days ? Ah, but who shall lack for song When the nights are still and long ; When beside the logwood fire We may hear the wood-elves choir, Making dainty music float Up the big, brick chimney s throat ; When within the flames and smoke We may see the fairy folk, Coming hither, going thither, Vanishing, we know not whither, [ 157 1 LITTLE-FOLK LYRICS Or, perhaps they all depart To the forest s frozen heart, There to tell the barren trees Of the fireside s mysteries, How they saw some other elves Just as funny as themselves ! DECEMBER DECEMBER S come, and with her brought A world in whitest marble wrought ; The trees and fence and all the posts Stand motionless and white as ghosts, And all the paths we used to know Are hidden in the drifts of snow. December brings the longest night, And cheats the day of half its light. No song-bird breaks the perfect hush ; No meadow-brook with liquid gush Runs telling tales in babbling rhyme Of liberty and summer time, But frozen in its icy cell Awaits the sun to break the spell. Breathe once upon the window glass, And see the mimic mists that pass, Fantastic shapes that go and come Forever silvery and dumb. December Santa Claus shall bring, Of happy children happy king, [ 158] KING BELL Who with his sleigh and reindeer stops At all good people s chimney tops. Then let the holly red be hung, And all the sweetest carols sung, While we with joy remember them The journeyers to Bethlehem, Who followed, trusting from afar The guidance of that happy star Which marked the spot where Christ was born Long years ago, one Christmas morn ! KING BELL LONG years ago there lived a King, A mighty man and bold, Who had two sons, named Dong and Ding, Of whom this tale is told. Prince Ding was clear of voice, and tall, A Prince in every line ; Prince Dong, his voice was very small, And he but four feet nine. Now both these sons were very dear To Bell, the mighty King. They always hastened to appear When he for them would ring. [ 159 ] LITTLE-FOLK LYRICS Ding never failed the first to be, But Dong, he followed well, And at the second summons he Responded to King Bell. This promptness of each royal Prince Is all of them we know, Except that all their kindred since Have done exactly so. And if you chance to know a King Like this one of the song, Just listen once and there is Ding ; Again and there is Dong. IN THE MEADOW THE meadow is a battle-field Where Summer s army comes, Each soldier with a clover shield, The honey-bees with drums. Boom, rat-ta ! they march, and pass The captain tree who stands Saluting with a sword of grass And giving them commands. T is only when the breezes blow Across the woody hills, They shoulder arms, and, to and fro, March in their full-dress drills. [ 160] FAIRY JEWELS Boom, rat-ta ! they wheel in line And wave their gleaming spears ; " Charge ! " cries the captain, giving sign, And every soldier cheers. But when the day is growing dim They gather in their camps And sing a good thanksgiving hymn Around the firefly lamps. Rat-tat-ta ! the bugle-notes Call "good-night" to the sky: I hope they all have overcoats To keep them warm and dry. FAIRY JEWELS O WHITE moon sailing down the sky, I watch you when in bed I lie ; I watch you on the calm, blue deep, And dream of you when fast asleep. I fancy as I see you float That you are some good fairy s boat, And winds that in my windows blow Are the same winds that make you go ; Each star that shines for me so bright For you is just a beacon light. I half believe that it is you Who bring to us the morning dew, LITTLE-FOLK LYRICS Each drop is so much like a gem/ I think the fairy gathers them, And leaning over as you pass Lets millions fall upon the grass. THE FOUR WINDS IN winter, when the wind I hear I know the clouds will disappear ; For t is the wind who sweeps the sky And piles the snow in ridges high. In spring, when stirs the wind, I know That soon the crocus buds will show ; For t is the wind who bids them wake And into pretty blossoms break. In summer when it softly blows, Soon red I know will be the rose, For t is the wind to her who speaks, And brings the blushes to her cheeks. In autumn, when the wind is up, I know the acorn s out its cup ; For t is the wind who takes it out, And plants an oak somewhere about. HUMMING-BIRD SONG HUMMING-BIRD SONG HUMMING-BIRD, Not a word Do you say ; Has your throat No sweet note To repay Honest debts It begets When you go On the wing Pilfering To and fro ? May be you Whisper to Bloom and leaf On the vine Secrets fine In your brief Calls on them, Winged gem. Not a word You reply ! Off you fly, Humming-bird ! [ 163! LITTLE-FOLK LYRICS PEBBLES OUT of a pellucid brook Pebbles round and smooth I took Like a jewel, every one Caught a color from the sun, Ruby red and sapphire blue, Emerald and onyx too, Diamond and amethyst, Not a precious stone I missed : Gems I held from every land In the hollow of my hand. Workman Water these had made ; Patiently through sun and shade, With the ripples of the rill He had polished them until, Smooth, symmetrical and bright, Each one sparkling in the light Showed within its burning heart All the lapidary s art ; And the brook seemed thus to sing : Patience conquers everything ! IN THE ORCHARD O ROBIN in the cherry-tree, I hear you caroling your glee. The platform where you lightly tread Is lighted up with cherries red, I 164 1 A REAL SANTA CLAUS And there you sing among the boughs, Like Patti at the opera-house. Who is the hero in your play To whom you sing in such a way ? And why are you so gayly dressed, With scarlet ribbons on your breast ? And is your lover good and true ? And does he always sing to you ? Your orchestra are winds that blow Their blossom notes to me below, And all the trembling leaves are throngs Of people clapping for your songs. I wonder if you like it when I clap for you to sing again. A REAL SANTA CLAUS SANTA CLAUS, I hang for you, By the mantel, stockings two : One for me and one to go To another boy I know. There s a chimney in the town You have never traveled down. Should you chance to enter there You would find a room all bare : Not a stocking could you spy, Matters not how you might try ; LITTLE-FOLK LYRICS And the shoes, you d find are such As no boy would care for much. In a broken bed you d see Some one just about like me, Dreaming of the pretty toys Which you bring to other boys, And to him a Christmas seems Merry only in his dreams. All he dreams then, Santa Claus, Stuff the stocking with, because When it s filled up to the brim I 11 be Santa Claus to him ! CHERRIES APRIL brought the blossoms out, May winds scattered them about, Till the grassy floor below Whitened with their fragrant snow ; Then came June with golden sun, Of all months the fairest one, Smiling on the trees and brooks Like a child with picture-books. In the green leaves overhead Little lights were burning red ; Looking up, it seemed that I Saw the stars in fairy sky [ 166] CHERRIES Glistening the leaves among, Lanterns by the pixies hung ; But I heard a song-bird pipe " Cherry ripe ! " and " Cherry ripe t " He who sings of cherries best Wears their colors on his breast ; He their poet is, and he Makes his dwelling in their tree. T is not strange his song is sweet ; Think the cherries he can eat ! Busy with his feathered wits He makes bare the cherry pits. Bring the basket, little maid ; Let us lend Sir Robin aid. I will climb among the boughs Where he has his tiny house, And if I can find him there I will ask him please to spare Of his tempting cherry feast One small basketful at least. I will tell him how in spring When you first had heard him sing, All upon the garden ground You the bread-crumbs threw around Then, if he s the bird I think, He will answer in a wink, " Certainly : I d help you pick, If their stems were not so thick ! " 1 1671 LITTLE-FOLK LYRICS FLYING KITE I OFTEN sit and wish that I Could be a kite up in the sky, And ride upon the breeze, and go Whatever way it chanced to blow. Then I could look beyond the town, And see the river winding down, And follow all the ships that sail Like me before the merry gale, Until at last with them I came To some place with a foreign name. KRISS KRINGLE AWAY with melancholy ! This day is for delight ; When mistletoe and holly In wreaths and garlands bright Are hung above the ingle, And joyous voices mingle To welcome in Kriss Kringle, Who comes clad all in white ! Green spray and crimson berry A crown for him shall be ; Gay catch and carol merry Shall fill his heart with glee, [ 168 ] WIZARD FROST Shall match his sleigh-bells jingle And warm his ears a-tingle, A greeting to Kriss Kringle, The Christmas Fairy he ! Within his sleigh he carries The presents high up-piled ; Not long with us he tarries, By leaf and song beguiled. God-speed, down dale and dingle, May there not be a single Forgotten one, Kriss Kringle ; But gifts for every child ! WIZARD FROST WONDROUS things have come to pass On my square of window-glass. Looking in it I have seen Grass no longer painted green, Trees whose branches never stir, Skies without a cloud to blur, Birds below them sailing high, Church-spires pointing to the sky, And a funny little town Where the people, up and down Streets of silver, to me seem Like the people in a dream, [ 169] LITTLE-FOLK LYRICS Dressed in finest kinds of lace : T is a picture, on a space Scarcely larger than the hand, Of a tiny Switzerland, Which the wizard Frost has drawn Twixt the nightfall and the dawn. Quick ! and see what he has done Ere t is stolen by the Sun. THE JUGGLER FROM these downy flakes of snow Winter scatters everywhere, Fragrant violets shall grow In the springtime s balmy air. Every snowdrop on the numb Branches of the barren tree Shall a ruby bud become When the warm sun sets it free. And the icicles that shine Dagger-like and crystal-clear In the fingers of the vine, Trembling leaves shall then appear. We shall know when comes this strange Juggler April, who shall bring Out of snow-drifts, " Presto, change ! " Birds and blossoms of the spring ! [ 170] A FAIRY STORY A FAIRY STORY THIS is what a fairy heard; Listening beside a stream, Water talking in its dream. That is what I call absurd. This is what the water said : When I grow up big, I 7/ be Like the river or the sea. And the fairy shook her head. Then she went upon her way Far across the hills and vales And she heard so many tales She forgot the dream one day. But, at last, spread out to view, Lay the ocean : then, once more, She heard water on the shore Whisper : / remember you. Once I was a tiny drop Dreaming in a meadow-brook. T was little then ; but look, Now I ve grown enough to stop ! LITTLE-FOLK LYRICS THE SHADOWS ALL up and down in shadow-town The shadow children go ; In every street you re sure to meet Them running to and fro. They move around without a sound, They play at hide-and-seek, But no one yet that I have met Has ever heard them speak. Beneath the tree you often see Them dancing in and out, And in the sun there s always one To follow you about. Go where you will, he follows still, Or sometimes runs before, And, home at last, you 11 find him fast Beside you at the door. A faithful friend is he to lend His presence everywhere ; Blow out the light to bed at night Your shadow-mate is there ! Then he will call the shadows all Into your room to leap, And such a pack ! they make it black, And fill your eyes with sleep ! [ 172 ] HIDE-AND-SEEK HIDE-AND-SEEK NOW hide the flowers beneath the snow, And Winter shall not find them ; Their safety nooks he cannot know : They left no tracks behind them. The little brooks keep very still, Safe in their ice-homes lying; Let Winter seek them where he will, There s no chance for his spying. Gone are the birds : they re hiding where The Winter never searches ; Safe in the balmy Southern air, They sing on sunlit perches. But comes the Spring at last to look For all her playmates hidden, And one by one flower, bird, and brook Shall from its place be bidden. Then shall the world be glad and gay, The birds begin their chorus, The brooks sing, too, along their way, And flowers spring up before us ! [173] LITTLE-FOLK LYRICS THE ARCHER HIS home is yonder in the sky ; There, when the chase is o er, He hangs his gorgeous bow on high Above the open door. And sitting down he looks around The green fields wide and far, Where prostrate lying on the ground His many victims are. Strong is his arm, he knows it well, And sure his steady aim ; For him the missing arrows tell The number of the game. Come out, come out ! the hunt is done ; No danger shall we know ; For yonder see beneath the sun His promise and his bow ! A FUNNY FELLOW is a funny fellow JL Who goes by every day : When sad his voice is mellow, But shrill when he is gay. Despite of my endeavor To see him, though we r _ . i Ve met [i74l SPINNING TOP I must confess I never Have seen his features yet. I know he pulls the thistles That grow along the lane, And pricks himself, and whistles To drive away the pain. And when the snow is falling So fast I may not see, I often hear him calling Across the fields to me. He certainly is funny, For, when I can go out, If it is warm and sunny He seldom is about. He sings to me, and makes me A sleepy child at night ; He sings again, and wakes me, At early morning bright. SPINNING TOP \\ THEN I spin round without a stop VY And keep my balance like the top, I find that soon the floor will swim Before my eyes ; and then, like him, I lie all dizzy on the floor Until I feel like spinning more. [ i75l LITTLE-FOLK LYRICS SMILES AND TEARS I SMILE, and then the Sun comes out; He hides away whene er I pout ; He seems a very funny sun To do whatever he sees done. And when it rains he disappears ; Like me, he can t see through the tears. Now is n t that the reason why I ought to smile and never cry ? In more than this is he like me ; For every evening after tea He closes up his eyelids tight, And opens them at morning s light. THE CANARY UP in your cage of gold, Singing us all awake, What, if it might be told, What is the wish you d make? Is it, " I d like to be Out in the open air, Out of this cage, and free, Free to go anywhere? " [ 176] CLOUDS You re such a happy bird, Caroling all day long, Nobody ever heard You sing a solemn song. So I have come to think This is your carol sweet : " Plenty have I to drink, Plenty have I to eat ; " So I m content to stay , Here in my golden ring, ^ Nothing to do all day, Only to eat and sing." CLOUDS THE sky is full of clouds to-day, And idly, to and fro, Like sheep across the pasture, they Across the heavens go. I hear the wind with merry noise Around the housetops sweep, And dream it is the shepherd boys, They re driving home their sheep. The clouds move faster now ; and see ! The west is red and gold. Each sheep seems hastening to be The first within the fold. [177 1 LITTLE-FOLK LYRICS I watch them hurry on until The blue is clear and deep, And dream that far beyond the hill The shepherds fold their sheep. Then in the sky the trembling stars Like little flowers shine out, While Night puts up the shadow bars, And darkness falls about. I hear the shepherd wind s good-night - " Good-night, and happy sleep 1 " And dream that in the east, all white, Slumber the clouds, the sheep. LEAVES AT PLAY SCAMPER, little leaves, about In the autumn sun ; I can hear the old Wind shout, Laughing as you run, And I have n t any doubt That he likes the fun. When you ve run a month or so, Very tired you 11 get ; But the same old Wind, I know, Will be laughing yet When he tucks you in your snow- Downy coverlet. I 178 1 SHADOW PICTURES So, run on and have your play, Romp with all your might ; Dance across the autumn day, While the sun is bright. Soon you 11 hear the old Wind say, " Little leaves, Good-night ! " SHADOW PICTURES IN the day or night, When the lamps are bright, Far up in the sky s blue dome, Every kind of tree Is a child like me, Amusing himself at home. On the ground below In the brilliant glow Of stars, or of moon or sun, There the shadows fall On the grassy wall, And over the garden run. There are cats and kings, There are birds with wings, And curious kinds of men ; And they dance and play In a funny way, And vanish, and come again. [ 179 1 LITTLE-FOLK LYRICS Oh, I wish I knew How their fingers do Such tricks with the shadows dark ; Then I d make the birds And the leasts in herds, To go in a shadow ark. And the flood should come, As it once did, from The lamp on the parlor shelf ; And my shadow boat On the wall should float, And Noah should be myself. GHOST FAIRIES WHEN the open fire is lit, In the evening after tea, Then I like to come and sit Where the fire can talk to me. Fairy stories it can tell, Tales of a forgotten race, Of the fairy ghosts that dwell In the ancient chimney place. They are quite the strangest folk Anybody ever knew, Shapes of shadow and of smoke Living in the chimney flue. [ 180 ] SONG FOR WINTER " Once," the fire said, " long ago, With the wind they used to rove, Gipsy fairies, to and fro, Camping in the field and grove. " Hither with the trees they came, Hidden in the logs; and here, Hovering above the flame, Often some of them appear." So I watch, and, sure enough, I can see the fairies ! Then, Suddenly there comes a puff Whish ! and they are gone again SONG FOR WINTER NOW winter fills the world with snow, Wild winds across the country blow, And all the trees, with branches bare, Like beggars shiver in the air. Oh, now hurrah for sleds and skates ! A polar expedition waits When school is done each day for me Off for the ice-bound arctic sea. The ice is strong upon the creek, The wind has roses for the cheek, The snow is knee-deep all around, And earth with clear blue sky is crowned. [ 181 ] LITTLE-FOLK LYRICS Then come, and we may find the hut Wherein the Esquimau is shut, Or see the polar bear whose fur Makes fun of the thermometer. Let us who want our muscles tough orsake the tippet and the muff. The keen fresh wind will do no harm, The leaping blood shall keep us warm, A spin upon our arctic main Shall drive the clouds from out the brain, And for our studies we at night Shall have a better appetite. A DEWDROP LITTLE drop of dew, Like a gem you are ; I believe that you Must have been a star. When the day is bright, On the grass you lie ; Tell me then, at night Are you in the sky ? [ 182 ] JESTER BEE JESTER BEE THE garden is a royal court Whose jester is the bee, And with his wit and merry sport He fills the place with glee. He sings love ditties to the Rose Who is the queen of all ; To princess Lily up he goes And whispers she is tall ; He pulls prince Pansy by the ear ; He does all sorts of things That are ridiculous and queer But all the while he sings. He does not seem to think it wrong Such liberties to take ; And they who love his happy song Forgive him for its sake. And when at last the royal clown Takes off his jester s mask, He seriously sits him down Before his honey task. Then to himself he sings away, And here s the burden true : " Oh, sweet are all my hours of play, And sweet my honey, too ! " [ 183 1 LITTLE-FOLK LYRICS SNOWFLAKES OUT of the sky they come Wandering down the air, - Some to the roofs and some Whiten the branches bare ; Some in the empty nest, Some on the ground below, Until the world is dressed All in a gown of snow. Dressed in a fleecy gown Out of the snowflakes spun ; Wearing a golden crown, Over her head the sun Out of the sky again Ghosts of the flowers that died Visit the earth, and then Under the white drifts hide. DREAMS \ 1 7"HO can tell us whence they come, V V What mysterious region from ? , In what fairy country lies That strange city of surprise, [ 184 1 DREAMS Whither we in slumber go By a path we do not know ? Is it near or far away ? And the people, who are they ? Once when I was there, the town Seemed entirely upside down : 1 Roofs of barns and houses stood Where the stone foundations should, And the streets all seemed to run Straight as arrows to the sun Where, like ribbons, they were wound Its great, golden spool around. All the men and horses there, Topsy-turvy in the air, Walked and trotted on the blue Pavements of the avenue. But at morning when I woke, I discovered t was a joke, For the first thing I found out Was that I had turned about. How to go there, who can tell, Where these fairy people dwell ? Strange it is that morning s light Cannot show the path of night ; Stranger yet that we can keep It so surely in our sleep ; But the very strangest seems Being wide-awake in dreams. [ 185 1 LITTLE-FOLK LYRICS MAY-CHILDREN CAPTIVES to winter s cruel king, In gloomy dungeons cast The merry children of the spring Lay bound in fetters fast. They heard the wind, their surly guard, His angry summons roar, And trembled when the sleet fell hard Against their prison door. The wild flower whispered to the grass, " What hope have we to live ? " But answer none made he. Alas 1 He had no hope to give. So in the darkness sad they wept, Nor any comfort won, Save when into their sleep there crept Dreams of the gentle sun. But once while they were dreaming so, Came April s soldier rains, Who burst their prison bars of snow, And freed them of their chains. Then forth they went into the world, Spring s children bright and gay, And to the fragrant breeze unfurled Their banner blooms of May. [ 186] SOLDIERS OF THE SUN ROBIN S APOLOGY ONE morning in the garden I heard the robin s song : " I really beg your pardon For tarrying so long ; " And this is just the reason, Whatever way I flew, I met a backward season, Which kept me backward too." SOLDIERS OF THE SUN ALONG the margin of the world They march with their bright banners furled, Until, in line of battle drawn, They reach the boundaries of dawn. They cross the seas and rivers deep, They climb the mountains high and steep, And hurry on until in sight Of their black enemy, the Night ; Then madly rush into the fray The armies of the Night and Day. Swiftly the shining arrows go ; The bugling winds their warnings blow. Strive as he will, the Night is pressed Farther and farther down the west. [ 187 ] LITTLE-FOLK LYRICS With golden spear and gleaming lance The cohorts of the Day advance, Until the victory is won By his brave Soldiers of the Sun. SNOW SONG OVER valley, over hill, Hark, the shepherd piping shrill ! Driving all the white flocks forth From the far folds of the North. Blow, Wind, blow ; Weird melodies you play, Following your flocks that go Across the world to-day. How they hurry, how they crowd When they hear the music loud I Grove and lane and meadow full Sparkle with their shining wool. Blow, Wind, blow Until the forests ring: Teach the eaves the tunes you know, And make the chimney sing! Hither, thither, up and down Every highway of the town, Huddling close, the white flocks all Gather at the shepherd s call. [ 188 ] THE RAIN-HARP Blow, Wind, blow Upon your pipes of joy ; All your sheep the flakes of snow And you their shepherd boy ! THE RAIN-HARP WHEN out-of-doors is full of rain, I look out through the window-pane And see the branches of the trees Like people dancing to the breeze. They bow politely, cross, and meet, Salute their partners, and retreat, And never stop to rest until They reach the end of the quadrille. I listen, and I hear the sound Of music floating all around, And fancy t is the Breeze who plays Upon his harp on stormy days. The strings are made of rain, and when The branches wish to dance again, They whisper to the Breeze, and he Begins another melody. I Ve heard him play the pretty things Upon those slender, shining strings ; And when he s done he s very sharp He always hides away the harp. [ 189 1 LITTLE-FOLK LYRICS ELFIN LAMPS WHY all the stars in the sky are so bright, I am sure no one knows but themselves up there. Are they the lamps which are hung out at night For the fays and the gnomes and the elves up there ? BIRDS MUSIC THE little leaves upon the trees Are written o er with notes and words, The pretty madrigals and glees Sung by the merry minstrel birds. Their teacher is the Wind, I know ; For while they re busy at their song, He turns the music quickly so The tune may smoothly move along. So all through summer-time they sing, And make the woods and meadows sweet, And teach the brooks, soft murmuring, Their dainty carols to repeat. And when, at last, their lessons done, The winter brings a frosty day, Their teacher takes them, one by one, Their music, too, and goes away. [ 190 ] SHADOW CHILDREN SHADOW CHILDREN " T THEN the sun shines, then I see VV Shadows underneath the tree Gliding merrily around, Never making any sound, Playing at their games, no doubt, Games I do not know about. All day long together so Lightly o er the ground they go, Meet and separate and meet, Scamper down the shadow street, For an instant here, and then Just as quickly gone again. When with clouds the skies are gray, In their house the shadows stay, With their picture-books and toys, Like all other girls and boys ; But as soon as shines the sun Out of doors they gladly run. So for hours they play, until Sinks the sun behind the hill ; Then, like me, they go to bed, In the tree-house overhead, And the winds their cradles swing To the lullabies they sing. [191 1 LITTLE-FOLK LYRICS FAIRY SHIPWRECK ONE morning when the rain was done, And all the trees adrip, I found, all shining in the sun, A storm-wrecked fairy ship. Its hull was fashioned of a leaf, A tiny twig its mast, And high upon a green-branch reef By winds it had been cast. A spider s web, the fragile sail, Now flying loose and torn, Once spread itself to catch the gale By which the ship was borne. Its voyages at last were o er, And gone were all the crew ; And did they safely get ashore ? Alas, I wish I knew! BEES BEES don t care about the snow ; I can tell you why that s so : Once I caught a little bee Who was much too warm for me I [ 192 ] LULLABY THE WATERFALL TINKLE, tinkle ! Listen well 1 Like a fairy silver bell In the distance ringing, Lightly swinging In the air ; T is the water in the dell Where the elfin minstrels dwell, Falling in a rainbow sprinkle, Dropping stars that brightly twinkle Bright and fair, On the darkling pool below, Making music so ; T is the water elves who play On their lutes of spray. Tinkle, tinkle ! Like a fairy silver bell ; Like a pebble in a shell ; Tinkle, tinkle ! Listen well ! LULLABY SLUMBER, slumber, little one, now The bird is asleep in his nest on the bough ; The bird is asleep, he has folded his wings, And over him softly the dream-fairy sings : [ 193] LITTLE-FOLK LYRICS Lullaby, lullaby lullaby ! Pearls in the deep Stars in the sky, Dreams in our sleep ; So lullaby ! Slumber, slumber, little one, soon The fairy will come in the ship of the moon : The fairy will come with the pearls and the stars, And dreams will come singing through shadowy bars Lullaby, lullaby lullaby ! Pearls in the deep Stars in the sky, Dreams in our sleep ; So lullaby ! Slumber, slumber, little one, so; The stars are the pearls that the dream-fairies know, The stars are the pearls, and the bird in the nest, A dear little fellow the fairies love best : Lullaby, lullaby lullaby I Pearls in the deep Stars in the sky, Dreams in our sleep ; So lullaby ! B WINTER S ACROBATS Y night he spread his white rugs down Upon the highways of the town ; [ 194 1 WINTER S ACROBATS His posters on the fences told Of games and pleasures manifold, And promised every girl and boy A day of undivided joy, Of merry sport and healthy fun, In case there were not any sun. The gray sky was his spacious tent, And nearly all the children went. Some took their sleds, some took their skates, Some took themselves, and some their mates. Then all day long, on pond and hill, They slid and coasted with a will, And built snow images and forts, And played at all their jolly sports. And when at last t was time to end The happy games and homeward wend, They cried, while tossing high their hats, " Three cheers for Winter s Acrobats 1 " [i95l LITTLE-FOLK LYRICS VACATION SONG WHEN study and school are over, How jolly it is to be free, Away in the fields of clover, The honey-sweet haunts of the bee! Away in the woods to ramble, Where, merrily all day long, The birds in the bush and bramble Are filling the summer with song. Away in the dewy valley To follow the murmuring brook, Or sit on its bank and dally Awhile with a line and a hook. Away from the stir and bustle, The noise of the town left behind: Vacation for sport and muscle, The winter for study and mind. There s never a need to worry, There s never a lesson to learn, There s never a bell to hurry, There s never a duty to spurn. So play till the face grows ruddy And muscles grow bigger, and then Go back to the books and study ; We 11 find it as pleasant again. 1 196] THE FAIRIES DANCE THE SNOW-BIRD WHEN all the ground with snow is white, The merry snow-bird comes, And hops about with great delight To find the scattered crumbs. How glad he seems to get to eat A piece of cake or bread ! He wears no shoes upon his feet, Nor hat upon his head. But happiest is he, I know, Because no cage with bars Keeps him from walking on the snow And printing it with stars. THE FAIRIES DANCE ONCE in the morning when the breeze Set all the leaves astir, And music floated from the trees As from a dulcimer, I saw the roses, one by one, Bow gracefully, as though A fairy dance were just begun Upon the ground below. The lilies white, beside the walk, Like ladies fair and tall, [ 197 1 LITTLE-FOLK LYRICS Together joined in whispered talk About the fairies ball ; The slender grasses waved along The garden path, and I Could almost hear the fairies song When blew the light wind by. I waited there till noon to hear The elfin music sweet ; I saw the servant bees appear In golden jackets neat ; And though I wished just once to see The happy little elves, They were so much afraid of me They never showed themselves ! THE ROSE S CUP DOWN in a garden olden, Just where, I do not know, A buttercup all golden Chanced near a rose to grow ; And every morning early, Before the birds were up, A tiny dewdrop pearly Fell in this little cup. This was the drink of water The rose had every day ; [ 198 ] THE SNOW-WEAVER But no one yet has caught her While drinking in this way. Surely, it is no treason To say she drinks so yet, For that may be the reason Her lips with dew are wet. THE SNOW-WEAVER BACK and forth the shuttles go Fashioning the cloth of snow, And the weaver you may hear At the wind-loom singing clear : " Slumber, little flowers, and dream Of the silver-throated stream, Shining through the April day As it were a music ray Bearing melody along From the mellow sun of song. Slumber, little fragrant faces, Dreaming in your quiet places ; Soon the dreams shall pass and then You and Spring shall wake again ! " Thus the weaver at his loom Sings away the winter s gloom, While he weaves the coverlet For the dreamers who forget : [ 199 1 LITTLE-FOLK LYRICS " Slumber, little flowers, and dream Of the April s golden beam Which shall come and fill your eyes With the sunlight of surprise ; Waking, you shall hear once more Song-birds at the daybreak s door. Slumber, little fragrant faces, Dreaming in your quiet places. Soon the dreams shall pass and then You and Spring shall wake again ! " THE STORY-TELLER L HEY gather round him, one and all, A group of happy children small ; Their mouths are open wide ; their eyes Seem almost twice their normal size ; Some stand, some sit, and not a word From any one of them is heard. Now all is ready quite, for now The story-teller rubs his brow, And questions them : "What shall it be ? A fairy-tale from memory ? " Or shall I tell it in a song, And make up as I go along ? [ 200 ] THE STORY-TELLER " Which shall it be, in prose or rhyme, This tale of once upon a time ? "Or will you have a story true ? Choose anything that pleases you." A busy hum goes round, and then The voices quickly hush again ; For this small audience knows well That any story he may tell, Or any song that he may sing, Will be a most delightful thing. "We 11 let you choose," they cry, and so He tells a tale of long ago. There s something told about a gem Set in a Sultan s diadem, Which shone in such a brilliant way It changed the darkness into day. And there s a robber and a lot Of other people in the plot, A prince, a princess, and a page, A parrot in a golden cage. [201 ] LITTLE-FOLK LYRICS And there s the palace court-yard where The Sultan walks when it is fair ; And there s a funny dwarf he had To cheer him up when he was sad. Of course the robber comes to grief; The gem was in his handkerchief : The parrot t is who picked it up And dropped it in his water cup ; And then the prince the parrot bought, And found the gem the Sultan sought. So runs for one long hour the tale, And finds the robber safe in jail. The parrot has become quite tame, And calls the princess by her name ; The page has had his pay increased, Which he deserved, to say the least; The dwarf the Sultan s merry dwarf Has been presented with a scarf, Whose colors made the Sultan vext, And that s Continued in the next. [202] THE RAINBOW THE RAINBOW A TER the rain goes by, Curving across the sky Behold the bow of light, God s promise shining bright ! Under this glowing arch The myriad mist-folk march, And yonder lo, the Sun ! Glistens the grass once more, The birds sing at the door, Blue the sky as before, And the rain is done ! Slowly the meadow mist Melts into amethyst ; Slowly the rainbow fair Fades in the amber air ; Wakes in the west a breeze Whispering through the trees The secrets of the Sun. Gleams like a gem the rose, Open its red door blows, Thither the glad bee goes, And the rain is done ! [203] LITTLE-FOLK LYRICS THE STORY OF OMAR LONG centuries ago, three Persian boys, Thinking upon their hopes of future joys, Between them Omar, Abdul, and Hassan A lasting compact made, and thus it ran : Abdul and Omar and Hassan. These three, School-mates and friends -, do solemnly agree That to whichever one success may come, Honor or Wealth, the hand of Allah from t This one to each companion dear shall make Some worthy offering for Friendship s sake. The years slipped by, and when good fortune came, It brought to Abdul honor, wealth, and fame : Vizier the Sultan made him, and t was then He thought of Omar and Hassan again. And they, t is said, remembering the old Agreement, came, their wishes to unfold. First spoke Hassan : " Of thee, O Friend, my heart Would crave of power to have some goodly part ! " But Omar said to Abdul : " It were well With me, O Friend, if I might ever dwell Within the shadow of thy happiness, And from Life s grape the wine of Wisdom press ! " To each was granted that for which he prayed ; The vow fulfilled, the promised debt was paid. I 204 ] THE CHRISTMAS CAT But soon Hassan, grown greedier, forgot His love for Abdul, and began to plot Against the Sultan and the kind Vizier Whose hand had helped him to his high career ; And at his bidding did a rascal s knife Undo the thread of gracious Abdul s life. Now Omar, he in peace and comfort sought Wisdom, a school-boy still, by Allah taught ; Studied the course of planet and of star, And for his Sultan made the Calendar ; But most he loved, at the propitious time, His gathered wisdom to record in rhyme. To-day, of all these three t is he alone Whose name is honored and whose work is known. Modest he was, and being modest, wise ! Therein the moral of his story lies. THE CHRISTMAS CAT IT was the middle of the night When Santa Claus, clad all in white, Without a sign of any noise Came down the chimney with his toys. A host of pretty gifts he had To make a little fellow glad Playthings of every kind and make To please him when he should awake. [205 1 LITTLE-FOLK LYRICS Among them, and the last of all, A woolly kitten, fat and small, He placed upon the moonlit floor Close by the chamber s open door. Then up the chimney quick he sped And jumped into his snowy sled, And hurried back with jingling bells Unto the kingdom where he dwells. No sooner had he gone away When in came Mouser, grave and gray, A sort of cat-folk Santa Claws, Soft stepping on his velvet paws. And there before his very eyes The woolly kitten, half his size ! He bowed politely to his friend : " A cat," thought he, " let that amend ! " Then pausing, with a puzzled look, A survey of the stranger took, Saw that his eyes were open wide, His tail curled neatly at his side, His whiskers brushed, all smooth his fur, But could not catch his gentle purr. So Mouser deemed it wise and best To speak, and thus his friend addressed : " Friend of my kindred Catfolk, here Accept my welcome and good cheer. I ve been a long time in this house The sole destroyer of the mouse ; [206 ] THE CHRISTMAS CAT Yet of the mice enough there be To satisfy both you and me, And you are welcome to your share So long as there are mice to spare." The woolly kitten silent sat, Which much surprised the elder cat. Then Mouser bade him tell his name, How old he was and whence he came ; And getting no response at all, His hopes began to faint and fall ; Yet once again he spoke, his pride Too great to let him be denied Of courtesy and proper grace By any member of his race. " Are you," quoth Mouser, " such a cat As would be thought aristocrat, Too proud and prim to be polite ? To meet a fellow-cat at night Halfway is what I wish to do, But not an inch will venture you. Know, sir, my lineage can tell On mother s side, a Tortoise-shell, And on my father s, if you please, That ancient family Maltese ! Our coat-of-arms is of the best ; A cat-o -nine-tails is my crest ! Speak then, if you can boast of more, I stand here ready to adore." [207] LITTLE-FOLK LYRICS But never once the stranger stirred, Nor answered Mouser with a word. So all his friendship spurned at last, Old Mouser from the chamber passed ; With bosom filled with discontent, And mood unhappy, out he went. " I Ve see all sorts of cats," said he, " And cats of every pedigree, But until now I Ve never come Across a kitten deaf and dumb ! I pity him in this old house, He 11 never hear a single mouse ! " But when the Christmas morning broke, The little boy from dreams awoke, And first of all his gifts was this Strange cat who could n t purr or siss ; He loved the woolly cat because It did n t scratch him with its claws. LYRICS OF JOY FANCY LYRICS OF JOY CONFESSION WHEN I was young I made a vow To keep youth in my heart as long As there were birds upon the bough To gladden me with song : To learn what lessons Life might give, To do my duty as I saw, To love my friends, to laugh and live Not holding Death in awe. So all my lyrics sing of joy, And shall until my lips are mute ; In old age happy as the boy To whom God gave the lute. WITCHERY OUT of the purple drifts, From the shadow sea of night, On tides of musk a moth uplifts Its weary wings of white. [ 211 1 LYRICS OF JOY Is it a dream or ghost Of a dream that comes to me, Here in the twilight on the coast, Blue cinctured by the sea ? Fashioned of foam and froth And the dream is ended soon, And, lo, whence came the moon-white moth Comes now the moth-white moon 1 DIES ULTIMA WHITE in her woven shroud, Silent she lies, Deaf to the trumpets loud Blown through the skies ; Never a sound can mar Her slumber long : She is a faded star, A finished song ! Over her hangs the sun, A golden glow ; Round her the planets run, She does not know; For neither gloom nor gleam Can reach her sight : She is a broken dream, A dead delight ! [212] fr a Sfi /?cr> fottcS? frer* r&Ac for rjr A TEAR BOTTLE No voice can waken her Again to sing; She nevermore will stir To feel the spring ; Through the dim ether hurled Till Time shall tire, She is a wasted world, A frozen fire ! A TEAR BOTTLE GLASS, wherein a Greek girl s tears Once were gathered as they fell, After these two thousand years Is there still no tale to tell ? Buried with her, in her mound She is dust long since, but you Only yesterday were found Iridescent as the dew, Fashioned faultlessly, a form Graceful as was hers whose cheek Once against you made you warm While you heard her sorrow speak. At your lips I listen long For some whispered word of her, For some ghostly strain of song In your haunted heart to stir : LYRICS OF JOY But your crystal lips are dumb, Hushed the music in your heart : Ah, if she could only come Back again and bid it start ! Long is Art, but Life how brief ! And the end seems so unjust : This companion of her grief Here to-day, while she is dust ! THE DAY S SHROUD FROM sunrise to the set of sun The Winds went to and fro, Singing the while they deftly spun A garment white like snow. And in the dusk, unto the west They bore the robe of cloud, And for the grave the dead Day dressed Within this snowy shroud. Then, slowly vanishing from sight, I heard them softly sing, And saw above the grave at night The stars all blossoming. A BIRD S ELEGY A SEA GHOST ALL night I heard along the coast The sea her grief outpour ; And with the dawn arose a ghost To haunt the furrowed shore. And when from out the gray mist rolled The sun above the town, A shipwrecked sailor came and told Of how the ship went down. Then did I sudden understand The sobbing of the sea, And of that white ghost on the sand I knew the mystery. A BIRD S ELEGY HE was the first to welcome Spring ; Adventurous, he came To wake the dreaming buds and sing The crocus into flame. He loved the morning and the dew ; He loved the sun and rain ; He fashioned lyrics as he flew With love for their refrain. [215 ] LYRICS OF JOY Poet of vines and blossoms, he, Beloved of them all ; The timid leaves upon the tree Grew bold at his glad call. He sang the rapture of the hills, And from the starry height He brought the melody that fills The meadows with delight. And now, behold him dead, alas ! Where he made joy so long : A bit of blue amid the grass, A tiny, broken song. SECRET SOFTLY the little wind goes by, A whisper, nothing more ; Some message from the azure sky Brought down to earth s green door. Fragrant and fresh the wonder-word, But what it means, who knows ? Only the butterfly, the bird, The leaf, the grass and rose. Theirs the divine felicity, The gift of wisdom rare, The melody, the mystery, The secret of the air. [216] THE CHARM THE POET VOICE of the wind, of singing brook and bird, Dawn s message white and midnight s word, These secrets all belong Unto his song. For Nature to the poet s heart alone Makes her mysterious meanings known : He is her voice and her Interpreter ! THE CHARM SLIGHT is the thing it needs to wake The embers that have slumbered long Within the poet s heart, and make Them burn again with song. A rose, a star, a voice, a glance, Echo or glimpse, it is the same : Some mystery of time or chance That finds the hidden flame. Embers of song and song s desire, Hushed in the singer s heart they lie, And softly kindle into fire If but a dream go by. [217] LYRICS OF JOY And none may say, since none can know, Whence comes the vivifying spark That sends a transitory glow Of song across the dark. It is a secret summons, such As comes unto the spray when spring Wakens the blossoms with a touch, That bids the poet, Sing ! HIS DESIRE OF all the threads of rhyme Which I have spun, I shall be glad if Time Save only one. And I would have each word To joy belong A lyric like a bird Whose soul is song. There is enough of grief To mar the years ; Be mine a sunny leaf, Untouched by tears, To bring unto the heart Delight, and make All sorrows to depart, And joy to wake. [218] THE MUSE No sermon mine to preach, Save happiness ; No lesson mine to teach, Save joy to bless. Joy, t is the one best thing Below, above: The lute s divinest string, Whose note is love. THE MUSE r I "*HE songs I make, they are not mine, JL They all belong to her Whose words in some strange way combine To set my heart astir. If but her eyes look down on me The while I pause to write, By some swift touch of sorcery The sombre lines grow bright. Her voice upon me lays a spell Of music soft and sweet ; Imperfectly, what she may tell, My lyrics but repeat. I am as one who hears the thrush In some leaf-covert dim, And in the intermittent hush Ponders the dew-fresh hymn : [ 219! LYRICS OF JOY Or one who in a shadowed place Watches the stars agleam, And knows their beauty on his face Illumining his dream : Or one who catches from the rose A fragrant message sent From crimson lips, and straightway knows All of the Orient. Like these am I, and all my rhymes Are but the records clear That write themselves at magic times When she, the Muse, is near. For could I make my own her song, Unto the world I d give A lyric which should live as long As song itself shall live ! THE INTERPRETER NOT his alone the gift divine Who understands how, line by line, To re-create the dream with all Its wonder-world ethereal : Something of that same gift has he Who, reading, through the lines can see The dream itself, the secret thing That stirred the poet s heart to sing. [220] HARRO HARRO THIS is brave Harris story y Harro who watched the sea : To his renown I set it down As it was told to me. Back from the reef-caught vessel Came Harro s comrades four, And with them ten half-perished men, Safe landed on the shore. " And are these all ? " asked Harro. Answered the sailors brave : " Nay. One lashed high we left to die, And find an ocean grave." Cried Harro : " Who goes with me To rescue him, the last, Alive or dead ? Shall it be said We left one on the mast ? " Spoke up his gray-haired mother : " Oh, Harro boy, my son, Go not, I pray ! T is death they say, And there is only one ! " Father and brother Uwe The cruel sea hath slain. My last art thou. Good Harro, now Let me not plead in vain ! " [221 ] LYRICS OF JOY Answered brave Harro : " Mother, Who knows, perchance for him Under the skies a mother s eyes To-day with tears grow dim. " Farewell ! God watches over The fields of flying foam, And He shall keep us on the deep, And safely bring us home." Wild was the storm-swept ocean, And like a fragile leaf The lifeboat tossed long ere it crossed Unto the distant reef. Wild was the sea, and madly Ever the tempest blew, While down the track came Harro back With one beside the crew. Hard to the oars his comrades Bent in the shrieking gale ; And Harro cried, when land he spied, " Thank God, we shall not fail 1 " And when he saw his mother Pacing the shore in tears, Loud over all the storm his call Brought gladness to her ears. [ 222 ] WITH HERRICK Over and over he shouted, And high his cap he waved : God gives thee joy ! God sends thy boy I T is Uwe we have saved I " Such is brave Harris story y Harro who watched the sea : To his renown I set it down As it was told to me. WITH HERRICK IN the green woods is the brook, Like a lyric in his book, Singing as it slips along Tender strains of sylvan song. Carol of the thrush s throat Echoes in its liquid note ; Murmur of the woodland bee Haunts its drowsy melody ; And its music, soft and low, Mimics all the gales that go Whispering in boughs of green Spread above it like a screen. O er its brink the lily, white As the risen moon at night, Leans in rapture, listening To the song it has to sing. Like a maiden who for love From her lattice leans above, [223 ] LYRICS OF JOY Drinking in the song that slips Through the shadows from the lips Of her lover in the gloom, So above the brook this bloom Leans to hear the message sweet That her lover may repeat. Loitering beside the stream, Is it strange that I should dream Dream of Herrick, and of Her For whose eyes his lyrics were ? Julia, she this lily is, And the brook s songs all are his ! CANOE SONG GRACEFULEST of buoyant things, Wanting but the snowy wings Of your kin, the swan, to be Queen of both the sky and sea ; Softly down the tranquil stream, As through slumber glides a dream, With the current let us go Where the slim reeds, row on row, Make sweet music all day long, And the air is full of song. Silent as the red man, who Out of birch-bark fashioned you, Steal along and come upon Hosts of water-lilies wan [224] A GARLAND Suddenly, and bring surprise To their wonder-waking eyes ; Then be off again once more, Shadow-like, and haunt the shore, Gathering from bending grass Water secrets as you pass. On and on and on we drift Till the stars begin to sift Through the twilight and, on high, At her window in the sky Comes the Night s pale bride to hark For his message through the dark ; Till at last the silver sand Reaches down and bids us land, Then till dawn, farewell to you Sister of the Swan Canoe ! A GARLAND LET me a garland twine For poets nine, Whose verse I love best to rehearse. For each a laurel leaf, One stanza brief, I make memory s sweet sake. I 225 1 LYRICS OF JOY First, then, THEOCRITUS, Whose song for us Still yields The fragrance of the fields. Next, HORACE, singing yet Of love, regret, And flowers : This Roman rose is ours. OMAR-FITZGERALD next, Within whose text There lies A charm to win the wise. Then SHAKESPEARE, by whose light All poets write : The star, Whose satellites they are 1 HERRICK then let me name, Whose lyrics came Like birds To sing his happy words. Then KEATS, whose jewel rhyme Shines for all time, To tell Of him the gods loved well. [226] A GARLAND LONGFELLOW next I choose : For him the muse Held up Song s over-brimming cup. Next TENNYSON, whose song, Still clear and strong, Soars high, Nearing each day the sky. Then ALDRICH like a thrush In the dawn s flush, Who sings With dew upon his wings. These are the nine, above Whose leaves I love To lean, My happiness to glean. Theirs are the books that hold Joy s clearest gold For me, Wrought into melody ; Theirs are the words to start Within my heart The fire Of song and song s desire ! [227] LYRICS OF JOY A PRAYER IT is my joy in life to find At every turning of the road, The strong arm of a comrade kind To help me onward with my load. And since I have no gold to give, And love alone must make amends, My only prayer is, while I live, God make me worthy of my friends ! ARBUTUS NATURE THE YEAR S DAY AFTER the winter s night From the world is withdrawn, Out of the darkness gleams the light, Spring and the Year s fresh dawn. Blossom and leaf and bud, And the birds all in tune ; Then in a fragrant, golden flood, Summer the Year s glad noon. Crimson the roses blow, And the grove s breath is musk : Then to the Year the sunset glow, Autumn and hints of dusk. Glimmer the stars of frost, And the wind at the door Mournfully sings of something lost : Winter and night once more. ARBUTUS ALONG the woods brown edge The wind goes wandering To find the first pink pledge The hint of Spring. [229] LYRICS OF JOY The withered leaves around, She scatters every one, And gives to wintry ground A glimpse of sun. And to the woodland dumb And desolate so long She calls the birds to come With happy song. Then the arbutus ! This The pledge, the hint she sought, The blush, the breath, the kiss, Spring s very thought ! VIOLET IN this white world of wonder All wrapt in silence deep, Shut in her palace under The snow she lies asleep ; And she shall only waken When lyrics sweet and clear Out of the trees are shaken, And April s here. Glimpses of grass and gleams of The golden sunlight bring Visions of joy and dreams of The miracle of Spring : [230] APRIL She sees the shining faces Of buds and leaves appear, Lighting the shadowed spaces W\\h April s here! Then, O the nameless rapture Of that warm touch at last, When April comes to capture And hold her fragrance fast ! The dream of winter broken, Behold her, blue and dear, Shy Violet, sure token That April s here ! APRIL AFTER the silence long On valley and hill, Listen, again the song Of the silver rill ! Vanishes from the plains The prison of snow ; Broken the crystal chains, And the captives go ; Over the Winter s tomb The bird in its mirth Carols of bud and bloom To the barren earth ; [231 3 LYRICS OF JOY Tremble the vines and trees With ecstasy then, Hearing the lisping breeze Hint of Spring again. Mystery fills the air, And melody sweet Follows the pathways where Glimmer Spring s white feet. Over the meadow s floor She hastens, and see ! April is at the door With her golden key. MAY MORNING WHAT magic flutes are these that make Sweet melody at dawn, And stir the dewy leaves to shake Their silver on the lawn ? What miracle of music wrought In shadowed groves is this ? All ecstasy of sound upcaught, Song s apotheosis ! The dreaming lilies lift their heads To listen and grow wise ; The fragrant roses from their beds In sudden beauty rise : [232 ] HONEYSUCKLES Enraptured, on the eastern hill, A moment, halts the sun ! Day breaks ; and all again is still : The thrushes song is done ! HONEYSUCKLES WITHIN a belfry built of bloom, Above the garden wall they swing ; A chime of bells for winds to ring, Of mingled music and perfume. What scented syllables of song Throughout the day their tongues repeat ! They tempt with promise, honey-sweet, The listener to linger long. A bit of sunset cloud astray, The dappled butterfly floats near, Lured by the fragrant music clear, Trembles with joy, then fades away. And thither oft, from time to time, The humming-bird and golden bee List, and go mad with melody, The honey-music of the chime. y And thither when the silver gleam Of moon and stars is over all, One white moth hovers near the wall, A ghost to haunt the garden s dream I [233] LYRICS OF JOY WINTER DREAMS DEEP lies the snow on wood and field ; Gray stretches overhead the sky; The streams, their lips of laughter sealed, In silence wander slowly by. Earth slumbers, and her dreams, who knows But they may sometimes be like ours ? Lyrics of spring in winter s prose That sing of buds and leaves and flowers; Dreams of that day when from the south Comes April, as at first she came, To hold the bare twig to her mouth And blow it into fragrant flame. WHITE MAGIC WHEN Winter hushes for a time The music of the sylvan brook, And shuts its witchery of rhyme In her white book, The world is not yet dumb ; For in the snow-hung vines and trees With their cold blossoms, icy clear, Invisible the winds like bees Swarm, and I hear Their weird and wizard hum. [ 234 ] FOOTPRINTS IN THE SNOW Such is the magic wand she wields That she can shape my fancy so My dreams are all of fragrant fields The wild bees know In summer s golden noon ; And through the dull December hours Mine is the month for which I long, The barren branch grows bright with flowers Where the bees throng, White magic, winter June 1 FOOTPRINTS IN THE SNOW WORN is the winter rug of white, And in the snow-bare spots once more Glimpses of faint green grass in sight, Spring s footprints on the floor. Upon the sombre forest gates A crimson flush the mornings catch, The token of the Spring who waits With finger on the latch. Blow, bugles of the south, and win The warders from their dreams too long, And bid them let the new guest in With her glad hosts of song. She shall make bright the dismal ways With broideries of bud and bloom, [235] LYRICS OF JOY With music fill the nights and days And end the garden s gloom. Her face is lovely with the sun ; Her voice ah, listen to it now ! The silence of the year is done : The bird is on the bough 1 Spring here, by what magician s touch ? T was winter scarce an hour ago. And yet I should have guessed as much, Those footprints in the snow ! NANTUCKET DEAR old Nantucket s isle of sand An ancient exile from the Land, Free from the devastating hand Of pomp and pillage, I find it year by year with all Its white-winged fleet of cat-boats small Guarding what Fancy loves to call The violet village. The yellow cliffs, the houses white, The wind-mill with its wheel in sight, The church spire and the beacons bright, All bunched together ; [236] NANTUCKET How picturesque they are ! How fair ! And, O how fragrant is the air, With pink wild-roses everywhere, And purple heather ! Half foreign seems the little town, The narrow streets, the tumble-down And rotting wharves whose past renown Is linked with whalers, The roofs with Look-outs whence they saw In bygone days the big ships draw Homeward with oil, and watched with awe The sea-worn sailors : Half foreign, but the better half Is like the flag that from the staff Flings out its welcome, starry laugh, Native completely ; The shops, the schools, the zigzag lines Of shingled dwellings hung with vines, And gardens wrought in quaint designs And smelling sweetly. Here one may wander forth and meet Skippers of eighty years whose feet Find youth yet in the paven street ; And if one hunger For yarns of wrecks and water lore, Pass the tobacco round once more, And hear what happened long before, When he was younger. [237] LYRICS OF JOY Enchanting tales of wind and wave, Witty, pathetic, gay and grave, One listens in the merman s cave Enraptured, breathless, While from the gray, bewhiskered lips Come stories of the sea and ships ; The careful skipper never skips The legends deathless. Then out again, and let us go Where fresh and cool the breezes blow Over the dunes of Pocomo, Where bird and berry Conspire to lure us on until, Over the gently sloping hill, We see Wauwinet, white and still And peaceful very. Here is the ending of the quest ; Here, on this Island of the Blest, Is found at last the Port of Rest, Remote, romantic : A land-flower broken from the stem, And few indeed there be of them Fitted so perfectly to gem The blue Atlantic. Dreamy, delicious, drowsy, dull, A poppy-island beautiful ; And there are poppies here to cull Until the plunder [238] NANTUCKET Provokes the soul to sleep and dream Amid the glamour and the gleam, And makes the world about us seem A world of wonder ! LYRICS OF JOY LOVE TO JULIET (Cum regnat rosa) HEEDLESS how it may fare with Time, I send you here a rose of rhyme : Its fragrance, love; its color, one Caught from Hope s ever-constant sun ; Upon each leaf a lyric writ Your eyes alone may witness it ; And in its heart for you to see Another heart the heart of me. All roses are as fitly worn By you as by your sister Morn, Since you, like Morn, fail not to give New beauty to them while they live. If this against your bosom rest One brief, sweet hour its life were blest ; Then, should you chance to cast it by, It would not find it hard to die. So take this bloom of love and song, And, be its life or l>rief or long, Know that for you the petals part, Disclosing all its lyric heart ; For you its fragrant breaths are drawn ; For you its color love s glad dawn; [ 240 ] ROSE LORE And for you, too, the heart that goes Song-prisoned in this rhyme of rose 1 ROSE LORE NOW since it knows My heart so well, Would that this rose Might speak and tell ! You could not scorn Its winsome grace, The blush of morn Upon its face. Unto your own You needs must press The sweet mouth prone To tenderness ; Then, lip to lip, With rapture stirred, You might let slip The secret word, With fragrant kiss Interpreting The dream of bliss The rose would bring. [241 ] LYRICS OF JOY Then to your breast Take it to be Your own heart s best Love-augury, A welcome guest, To gladden me. THE BOWER OF CUPID WHOSO enters at this portal Shall find Love the one immortal. Green the grove that hides the grotto Over which is hung this motto ; Broidered paths of bloom and berry Lead unto the monarch merry ; Birds above on leafy branches Loosen lyric avalanches ; Bees go singing in the sunny, Blossom-builded haunts of honey ; Flutes of brooks and lutes of grasses Waken with each wind that passes ; All is fragrance, song and joy, Made for one immortal boy ! Many seek this grotto hidden ; Welcome all, and none forbidden. Soft the air and clear as amber ; Round the gate red roses clamber ; Day long, mirth and music fill it ; Night sends moon and star to thrill it. [242] THE BOWER OF CUPID Voices, visions, dreams of rapture, There await, the heart to capture ; Full it is of faultless faces All the Muses and the Graces ; Poem, picture, flower and fancy, Every form of necromancy ; Naught to worry or annoy, Save the one immortal boy I In this grotto lies the golden Guest-book, full of legends olden, Writ by lovers on its pages Since the daybreak of the ages ; Paris, Helen, Petrarch, Laura, Meleager, Heliodora, All the glorious Amante Sung of old by Tuscan Dante, Names that shine in song and story Crowd this volume with their glory, - Tokens left by all the lovers In the world, between the covers ; Yet the record cannot cloy Love, the one immortal boy. Eve in Eden, fresh and pearly, Found on Earth this grotto early ; So, it came forever after To be haunted by her laughter. What a countless throng have tasted Love therein ere life was wasted ! [243] LYRICS OF JOY Blind they call the boy, in kindness, Yet is theirs the only blindness. He is sure of ear and vision,; Hearts he matches with precision ; That is Cupid s only duty In this bower of bliss and beauty That the end of all employ Is for one immortal boy ! MOONLIGHT AND MUSIC DEAR Heart, do you remember That summer by the sea, One blue night in September When you were here with me, How like a pearl uplifted The full moon rose and drifted, And how the shadows shifted Until the stars were free ? Along the beach the breakers Brought in their lavish store, Gathered from ocean acres, And strewed the curving shore ; Grasses that gleamed and glistened, Flowers that the sea had christened, Shells at whose lips you listened To learn their wonder-lore. [ 244 1 MOONLIGHT AND MUSIC Softly the breeze blew over From groves and gardens fair, Spilling a scent of clover Into the balmy air; The breath of pines around us, Fragrant it came and found us Just as the moonlight crowned us And Love at last came there. What music hailed our rapture ! What singers on the sand Were they whose hearts could capture Our joy and understand ? O Wind and Wave, they guessed it, They sang it and confessed it, Their love and ours, and blessed it There on the moonlit strand I Dear Heart, still sweet the story, For all the years gone by : Still floods the moon with glory The land, the sea, the sky ; And still the night-moth hovers Around us and discovers The same devoted lovers, Wind, Wave, and You and I. [245] LYRICS OF JOY IN ABSENCE n matters not how far I fare, Or in what land I bide, Your voice sings ever on the air, Your face shines at my side. For me each crimson flower that slips Its velvet sheath of green Yields the remembrance of your lips With all their sweets between. Your hair is in the dusk that lies Around me when I rest ; ; My only stars are your dear eyes, Love s own and loveliest. Happy am I, though far apart From all that makes life dear : Love dwells contented in my heart, Exiled yet always near. Then take my message, Sweet, and know How far your love has flown To cheer and bless your lover, so Lonely, but not alone : I send it from the drowsy South, A dream of my delight, A message to your rosebud mouth A kiss, and a good-night ! TO HER FOR MUSIC LOVE S SPRINGTIDE MY heart was winter-bound until I heard you sing : O voice of Love , hush not, but fill My life with Spring ! My hopes were homeless things before I saw your eyes : O smile of Love, close not the door To paradise ! My dreams were bitter once, and then I found them bliss : O lips of Love, give me again Your rose to kiss ! Springtide of love ! The secret sweet Is ours alone : O heart of Love, at last you beat Against my own ! TO HER MY songs are all for her Whose love I fain would win : Each to her heart, a wanderer, Goes singing : Let me in ! [247] LYRICS OF JOY Her eyes my beacons be, Her lips my rosy guides, And in her heart a melody For every word abides. Be brave, be brave, my song, Nor falter in the quest : Love in her heart has waited long To greet the singing guest. And be it yours to know The latch lift on the door ; Once in her heart Go, lyric, go ! Be hers for evermore ! MY APRIL SWEETHEART, comes laughing April now To right the Winter s wrong ; And back to the forsaken bough The bluebird comes with song: And, rivals of the stars above, Stars in the grass you see ; So, like your namesake, April, Love My April, come to me ! She brings the blossom to the vine, A token fresh and new ; She fills the crocus cup with wine, A pledge that she is true ; [ 248 J A MAY MADRIGAL She sends the sunshine after rain, A golden augury : Sweetheart, and must I plead in vain ? My April, come to me ! Oh, Winter lies upon my heart A dreariness and woe : It needs but your dear smile to start The buds of hope to blow ; It needs but your sweet lips to bring The message that shall be Like April s own, all love and Spring : My April, come to me I A MAY MADRIGAL Q^WEETHEART, the buds are on the tree, vJ The birds are back once more, And with their songs they call to me To open wide my door : So wide shall stand the door to-day Because my heart is true To bud and bird, to mirth and May, And, most of all, to You ! Sweetheart, the leaves begin to show, The grass is green again, And on the breeze sweet odors blow From wild flowers in the glen : The world is glad with voice and wing, And all the skies are blue ; [ 249 ] LYRICS OF JOY The scent, the song, the soul of Spring, I find them all in You ! Sweetheart, the snows have gone, and now It is the mating time. Hark to the lover on the bough, What melody sublime ! What ecstasy of passion, pride, And love and rapture, too ! So door and heart stand open wide To welcome May and You ! NOCTURNE ABOVE the sea in splendor The new moon hangs alone, A silver crescent slender Set in a sapphire zone ; Around me breathe the tender, Sweet zephyrs of the south : Night will not let My heart forget Her kisses and her mouth. The loose sails idly swinging, The ship lights glow and gleam, The bell-buoys muffled ringing, Drive all my thoughts to dream, - To dream of her voice singing [ 250] MEMORIES The songs I love the best : Night will not let My heart forget Where she has made her nest ! O Love, where art thou biding While hangs this moon on high ? Star in the twilight hiding, Come forth and light the sky Above the ship slow gliding Over the southern sea : Night will not let My heart forget Love s eyes that shine for me ! MEMORIES AS Love and I went walking Along the sea s gray shore, We heard the green waves talking, And love was all their lore. The purple shadows shifted, And through the twilight long From singing stars there drifted Our sweet betrothal song. But once, in days long after, We walked there, Love and I ; The waves had lost their laughter, The stars were hushed on high. [251 ] LYRICS OF JOY And each remembered only A little voice oh, years, How long they are, and lonely I Oh, heart, how full of tears ! A SONG S ECHO MY Love is like a Winter rose That sweetly blooms alone, That has of rivals none, and knows A beauty all her own. My Love is like a tender tune That wakens tender words, And fills December full of June, And brings again the birds. Her smile, my sun ; her voice, my song ; Her face, my flower of bliss ; Oh, who could find the Winter long With such a Love as this ! WITH ROSES HERE are roses red, For their fragrance love them : When you bend your head Tenderly above them, To your own lips, sweet, Lift them up and hold them [ 252 ] TWO SONGS While their lips repeat What my heart has told them. Grant them of your grace, With your beauty bless them, Fold them to your face, Kiss them, and caress them. Brief their day, and so Only gladness give them, Yours the joy to know Love that shall outlive them TWO SONGS HER greeting is a dulcet bell Love s daybreak and delight ; Her smile is noon, and her farewell Leads in the stars at night. She is the sunrise and the gleam Of dew upon the rose, The vision that evokes the dream, The song in slumber s prose.j ii Roses are the rhymes T wreathe Take them, every one ; Love the fragrance that you breathe, And your smile their sun. ; , [ 253 1 LYRICS OF JOY When the petals fall apart, Then in melody, You shall read a rose s heart, And the heart of me. SURF MUSIC SONNETS SAINT ROSE DEAR Rose, what volumes it would need to hold The songs that poets have been fain to sing In praise of you, the ruby in June s ring, Jewel of fragrance set in summer s gold 1 What tender words of worship, since of old In Eden Love first found you blossoming, Have blest your beauty, hoping so to bring A touch of warmth unto a bosom cold ! Poets and Lovers there shall ever be So long as there are gardens where the vine Builds a green temple of felicity Within whose leaves is found your fragrant shrine. O sweet Saint Rose ! Dear flower of melody, A lover s token, take this song of mine. SURF MUSIC ALL day I hear along the sandy shore The melancholy music of the Sea ; The green-robed choir of Ocean sing to me, Chanting the legends of their ancient lore. [255] LYRICS OF JOY I hear the tales of mariners of yore, Of ships gone down, of tempests blowing free ; I hear the mast, remembering the tree, Grieve for the grove and all its leaves once more. But when night comes and in the deep blue sky Gather the stars above the fields of foam, The music changes, and in fancy I Again the old familiar forests roam And hear the mast s companions as they cry: Blow, Wind, and bring our captive brother home ! TO A MOCKING BIRD THOU feathered minstrel perched in yonder tree, Thou bird-magician in a blue-gray coat, Trickster of tune, thou canst repeat by rote Thy rivals songs and win their loves to thee ! Song-sorcerer, who canst with melody Lure us to listen ; thou whose slender throat Is full of magic, bubbling note by note ; Mimic of music, sing thou on to me ! Chatter of blackbird, warble of the wren, Joy of the jay, and passion of the thrush, And every trill that ever bird has known I heard him jesting for a while ; and then, Softly upon the morning in a gush Of lyric love I heard him call his own. [256] THE SHOWER MUSIC IN vain the quest : no mortal eyes may know The secret haunt wherein by day and night She shapes her dreams of audible delight And sends them forth to wander to and fro : Spirits of Sound, invisible they go To fill the world with wonder in their flight ; Celestial voices, from whose starry height Strange hints of song steal down to earth below. Listen and hear the rhythmic echoes fall, The winds and waves and leaves and bees and birds, The blended harmony of reeds and strings, Chorus and orchestra, the voice and all The miracle of melody and words, Music herself it is who dreams and sings ! THE SHOWER HOUR after hour relentlessly the sun Shriveled the leaves and parched the meadow grass : The sky was yellow and like molten brass The heat poured down until the day was done. Red the round moon arose, and one by one Blossomed the stars and in the river s glass Beheld their beauty, but the breeze, alas ! Refused to break the web the spider spun. [257] LYRICS OF JOY But with the dawn a little cloud drew near, Leading a host forth on the azure plain. A distant rumble, then a forest cheer, And then a gust that whirled the weather-vane ; And then, at last, O melody most dear ! The soft alliteration of the rain. THE WINTER POOL DEEP in the woods, amid the giant trees It lies alone within an open space, Beloved in summer by the sylvan race Of God s best poets birds and golden bees ; Diana s mirror, full of memories Of all the nameless wonder of her face, And of the myriad jewel-stars that grace Orion s glory and the Pleiades. Behold it now, all ghostly white and still, Shut in the shadow of the ice and snow, A solitary, sad, forsaken thing ; Bereft of beauty, marred and dark until ] Diana comes again and looks to know Her luring smile the loveliness of Spring ! T BETRAYAL HERE came a day in winter when the sun Reached down and swept the world all clean of snow ; When captive streams long hushed in icy woe [258! THE SNOW S DREAMER Escaped with song again to dance and run : Between the purple hills the vales were spun With silver mist, and, dreaming in the glow, The trees and vines were tremulous as though They felt the buds unfolding one by one. Just for a day this glamour touched the dearth And dreariness of life, one vision brief Of joy that lit the sorrow of the earth, Then passed, and with it hope went and belief : So Love once came and with a voice of mirth Betrayed my heart and left it dumb with grief. THE SNOW S DREAMER A SLEEP within her marble room she lies, JL\. And dreams of days to come when she shall go Across the meadows in the morning glow, Song on her lips, and gladness in her eyes : In dreams she sees again the warm, blue skies, And breathes the fragrance which the soft gales blow From trees whose blossoms, like belated snow, Have filled the orchards with a sweet surprise. So shall she dream, and slumber on until The first faint whispers of the south wind bring The shy anemones, all white with fear, To look upon her in her chamber still ; Then, waking, hear the bluebird blithely sing To welcome in the Daybreak of the Year ! [259] LYRICS OF JOY t . THE CATHEDRAL BELLS {Old Spanish Cathedral, St. Attgustine, Florida) HIGH in the old cathedral tower they hung, Four ancient bells, the bronze arpeggio That called to prayer the gray monks long ago, And marked the hour while mass was said and sung. Over a land of fragrant flowers they flung Petals of music that were wont to blow Out of the rose of Time, whereof we know Naught save how sweet it is and ever young. Listen ! across the midnight comes their call, Twelve in succession sound the bell-notes clear : A day has gone ; another day, begun. Awake, I hear them saying as they fall : Vale, Hispania ! Day of shadows drear ! Ave, America ! Day of joy and sun ! STARLIGHT QUATRAINS DAWN OUT of the scabbard of the night, By God s hand drawn, Flashes his shining sword of light, And lo, the dawn ! STORM IN the black jungle of the sky now wakes; The Lightning s writhing brood of fiery snakes, And lion Thunder from his lair of cloud Startles the dusky world with challenge loud. DUSK UP from the underworld the shadows crowd And ply with noiseless fingers at the loom Whereon they weave the star-embroidered cloud That screens the door of Day s new-builded tomb. STARLIGHT OVER the rim, a fiery ball, God s hand the golden sun lets fall ; Then from the blue deeps of the skies The myriad white bubbles rise. [26: i LYRICS OF JOY A SEA FANCY THE bugling winds their solemn dirges blow Across a dreary waste of foam-white waves. Here is the ocean cemetery. Lo, The phantom head-stones of the myriad graves ! MASTERY STROLLING along the granite coast I caught From lips invisible this message clear : Without my strength the oceans rage were naught. And I am but the whisper in thine ear ! DERELICT FAR in the distance looms a ship s dark hull, Aimlessly tossing on an angry sea ; And, circling round, one solitary gull, White ponderer of this black mystery ! FOG IN agony of death throughout the night The frenzied monarch tossed upon his bed Whence rose at dawn, mysterious and white, A ghost, the spectre of the mighty dead. [262] KNOWLEDGE THE PENALTY IMPLACABLE and stern, the captive, Hate, In silence sits, too anger-blind to see Love s shining figure at his prison gate, Longing to hear him bid her turn the key. LIFE LAUNCHED in the darkness on an unknown sea, A plaything of the winds and waves, I drift, And ponder what the shores of Life may be What harbor welcome when the shadows lift. THE GOAL REEDS for the credulous; but as for me, I choose to keep a mind alert and free. Not Faith but Truth I set me for a goal : Toward that shining mark God speed thee, Soul KNOWLEDGE FOR all Philosophy may teach, Only so far can Knowledge reach : All that we know from breath to breath Is Life and its great question Death. [263! LYRICS OF JOY IN A GARDEN THROUGHOUT the long, enchanted summer hours, In treasuries of honey-wealth untold, Here in their bright metropolis of flowers The banker bees are busy with their gold. IVY UPON the walls the graceful Ivy climbs And wraps with green the ancient ruin gray : Romance it is, and these her leafy rhymes Writ on the granite page of yesterday. GRASS HERE is the cloth whereon the dew and sun Fashion their bright embroideries of bloom ; For dreams a pillow, and, when dreams are done, A fragrant cover for the dreamless tomb. ROSE SCREENING her face of loveliness behind The garden s leafy curtain, waits the Rose For the enamored Nightingale to find A lyric hidden in his book of prose. [264] WRIT IN WATER DAY DREAM INTO the slumber of the Day there came The vision of a spirit winged with flame, And down the fragrant air one butterfly Her golden dream sailed indolently by. FIRE FANCIES DEEP in the ashes one live ember Lingers two similes to show : June in the arms of old December, A red rose in a drift of snow. CITY SPARROWS WITHIN the stone Sahara of the Town A green oasis lies the open Square : Hark to the noisy caravans of brown, Intrepid Sparrows, Arabs of the air! WRIT IN WATER RIVER or sea, the voice is still the same, Each curving water-lip the word repeats, Forever rumoring the poet s name, And murmuring melodiously Keats. [265] LYRICS OF JOY CONTRAST AUGHT in a crevice of the marble tomb, A fragile plant uplifts its hand of bloom, And poised thereon a butterfly takes breath : Fantastic fellowship of Life and Death ! A WISH THIS be my wish : let all my lines Across the pages run like vines ; The words, their shining blossoms be ; The book, a field of melody. UNCOLLECTED POEMS UNCOLLECTED POEMS THE LOOM OF SONG CARESSED by balmy gales that gently blow O er tropic seas and fields of fragrant bloom, She sits before the quaint, ancestral loom And weaves the fabric faultlessly and slow : Amid the threads like flowers her fingers go Until she almost breathes the faint perfume Distilled in Araby in twilight s gloom In gardens where the sweetest roses grow. So, on the Loom of Song, the poet weaves New fabrics from the threads of old romance And fashions fancies into figured rhyme, And all about him scattered shreds he leaves To be another s bright inheritance : Thus, ever, Song goes hand in hand with Time ! ECHO HOMELESS is she, forever wandering Among the hills and in the solitudes Of forests where no voice of man intrudes, In whose deep stillness birds forget to sing : [ 269 ] UNCOLLECTED POEMS She haunts the waterfalls, a hidden thing That in the clouds of mist above them broods, And she it is whose dreamy interludes Murmur the secret of the woodland spring. Sister to Silence ! Shadow of a sound ! Mirage of music ! Soul of melody Escaped and ever seeking realms of rest ! Mimic of brook-songs ! Ghosts of the profound And awe-inspiring ocean harmony ! Echo 1 Alas, she mocks me in my quest ! THE BROOK ACCOMPANIMENT WHAT joy to rest beside the brook that goes Singing along through grass and tangled brush, A strain of music in the meadow s hush, A lyric gladdening the woodland s prose, A voice that burdens every breeze that blows With mellow melody or gleeful rush Of rhythmic rapture stolen from the thrush, Nymph of the woods, whose every note she knows ! Here on the moss, leaf-sheltered from the sun, Where I can breathe the fragrance of the trees, I come to sit and read my poet s book ; To read and listen to the water run, Matching the poet s words with melodies Fantastic obligates of the brook ! I 270] THE FORTRESS OF SAN MARCO MOONLIGHT A CUP of emerald, the valley, dim With purple shadows, lies between the hills ; Across the silence, from the lyric rills Is breathed the music of their vesper hymn. Slowly the moon uplifts above the rim, A snow-like lily from whose chalice spills A silver light whose soft enchantment fills The valley-cup with beauty to its brim. O mystery and wonder of the night ! O loveliness of moonlight and the gleam Of myriad stars that are the blossoms white Adrift and blown adown an azure stream ! O miracle of rapture and delight, Transforming all the world into a dream ! THE FORTRESS OF SAN MARCO GRAY as the gulls above, San Marco lies, Builded by Spain three centuries ago; A star of stone a star whose gleam and glow Are gone forever, blotted from our skies. Bastion and battlement before me rise Storied with memories of war s grim woe, But over them, in balmy gales that blow, Triumphantly the flag of freedom flies. [ 271 ] UNCOLLECTED POEMS Along the ramparts now the lizards crawl, Or lazily lie basking in the sun ; Beyond the moat the sea-tides lift and fall ; And while I dream of battles lost and won Sudden a voice ! and then I see him, small, A Yankee bugler on a Spanish gun ! THE FAMILIAR MELODY ECHOES of song, ethereal they are ; Across the stillness of the summer night Some spirit of sweet melody takes flight And brings to earth the message of a star: So faint the fairy notes, the leaf-lisps mar The whispered dream of this enamored sprite. Softly, once more, O murmur of delight ! O breathed bliss of music from afar ! In through my window comes the wanderer, And memories that have been, sleeping long In the oblivion of bygone years Awake, and I am listening to her Whose voice made all my boyhood glad with song ; Almost I see her through the welling tears. TWILIGHT THE sunset fades, and once again the hills Against the sky, majestic and supreme, Loom spectrally and half unreal seem, And mystery the misty valley fills. [272] ROMANCE Melodiously now the mountain rills, Unheard by day, take up their lyric theme Of ecstasy, like voices heard in dream, An obligato to the whippoorwills. Invisible, the spirits of the dusk Ply the swift shuttles on their shadow loom And weave the wonder-fabric of the night : The wind is but a whisper, sweet with musk Exhaled from fragrant lips of bud and bloom, A whisper and the one word is Delight ! ROMANCE IN quiet splendor fell the Southern night, And wrapt in dusk the little city lay, Drowsing, and dreaming of another day When Dawn should bring again its joy and light. Above it hung the new moon s crescent bright, And myriad stars along the sky s blue way Gathered to wonder at their rivals gay, That twinkled o er the Plaza s pavements white. Idly I sauntered in the fragrant gloom, Under the lisping palms, and found the street Where hung the balcony, cage-like, above. Behind those bars I saw a girl s face bloom, And heard another Juliet repeat To me, her Romeo, her words of love. [273] UNCOLLECTED POEMS BROADWAY AT MIDNIGHT THE theaters are out, and on Broadway Assembles now the midnight s motley show A moving panorama in the glow Of myriad lamps that make a mimic day. Here Wealth and Poverty together stray ; Here Virtue walks with Vice, and does not know ; And ever up and down the pavements go The tireless actors of an endless play. Serene above this busy whirl of life, This human comedy, this rush and roar And turmoil of interminable cars, Like mute spectators of our mortal strife, From their blue balconies forever more Look down in beauty the immortal stars I THE END OF AUTUMN T T THAT fires are kindled in the autumn s urn ! V V With leaping flames of purple, red and gold The mountains tremble, and the frost fires cold In multitudinous meadow lanterns burn. Dust is the rose s heart. The birds return Southward with song. The summer s tale is told ; And in the silence now the Year, grown old, Awaits contentedly the end to learn. THE LONELY ROOM The streams pour forth their sorrow as they go, Soft-footed, down the grove s forsaken nave ; Musician winds their solemn trumpets blow, Rustling the leaf -hung frieze and architrave ; And far away in shining fields of snow Winter is busy with the Year s white grave. THE LONELY ROOM LOVE, how I miss you in this little room ! Day were not darker by the sun unblest. The bird has flown and left an empty nest Where all is silence and unbroken gloom. It is a garden whence the light of bloom Is faded out ; a bower, the loneliest, Bereft of beauty and the happy guest Whose voice was music, and whose breath, perfume. Delay not, Sweet ; absence already long Burdens my heart with such a grievous pain Hourly it seems that it must yield or break. Beloved, hasten back and bring the song, The sunlight, blossoms, and the old refrain Of ecstasy heart-ease to end heart-ache ! [275] UNCOLLECTED POEMS ON A BRONZE MEDAL OF LINCOLN BY VICTOR D. BRENNER THIS bronze our Lincoln s noble head doth bear. Behold the strength and splendor of that face, So homely-beautiful, with just a trace Of humor lightening its look of care ! With bronze indeed his memory doth share, This martyr who found freedom for a Race ; Both shall endure beyond the time and place That knew them first, and brighter grow with wear. Happy must be the genius here that wrought These features of the great American Whose fame lends so much glory to our past Happy to know the inspiration caught From this most human and heroic man Lives here to honor him while Art shall last. FOR POPPIES THEY have the scarlet of her lips Who gathered them for me ; The pink of her fair finger-tips Upon their leaves I see. Within their hearts, so it is said, Is hidden that which brings The drooping lid, the drowsy head, And such somnolent things. [276] GYPSY Dear flowers of Sleep, if this be so, Grant me one joy supreme : In slumber her sweet face to know A poppy, and a dream ! GYPSY A VAGABOND, I roam at will, Where fancy leads I follow ; Now with the stars upon the hill, And now companion of the rill That murmurs in the hollow. All roads are mine, all paths I take, With staff and scrip beside me ; On the green moss my bed I make, And at the bird s first call I wake, Before the sun has spied me. The friend of sylvan folk am I ; The leaves and ferns and grasses To all my questions make reply, And there s no winged thing too shy To greet me as it passes. Sunshine or shower, I little care About the skies above me ; My gypsy mood makes all things fair; I am too gay to court despair, Since all earth s creatures love me. [277] UNCOLLECTED POEMS A vagabond, I leave the throng Of cities far behind me, Seeking the joy for which I long In haunts of happiness and song And only song can find me. EXPERIENCE T "\ THEN I set free my Golden-wing, VV Straight to the open fields he flew, But never once I heard him sing The songs which in his cage he knew. I followed him and left behind The narrow room where came to me The dreams which I was wont to bind In sheaves of song and melody. Alas ! the happy dreams no more Would turn to music on my lute : Gone was the joy I knew before, And liberty had made me mute. So now my Golden-wing and I Come gladly back to cage and den To hear the dreams go singing by And find life full of song again. [278] AUTUMN LEAVES LABOR OMNIA VINCIT OUT of a pebble from the desert sands, Found by some dusky slave in tropic lands, The skillful lapidary cuts a gem To dazzle in the Sultan s diadem. And even so the poet s pebble-thought By long and patient polishing is wrought Into the perfect symmetry of rhyme, A gem to grace the diadem of Time ! AUTUMN LEAVES FLOWER and leaf of vine and tree, Grass of meadow, weed of mire, 1 Summer gathered them to be Faggots for the Autumn s fire. Smoke-like haze on vale and hill ; Flames of gold and crimson bright Into life now leap and fill Field and forest with their light. All the glory of the year Kindled into beauty so : Soon the Winter will be here, Soon the curfew, then the snow. [279! UNCOLLECTED POEMS So these lovely leaves I lay In my book, all gold and red ; Embers for a winter s day When the Autumn s fire is dead. THE TREE TAVERN IN the Tavern of the Tree, Listen to the revelry ! Mark the merry minstrel there, Seated in his leafy chair, At his cups the whole day long, Paying toll with silvery song. Every draught he takes is drawn From the cellars of the Dawn ; Fragrant dew from flowery flasks, Amber air from fairy casks Brought from Araby, and bright With the Orient s golden light ; Spicery of buds and vines Flavors his delicious wines ; Is it strange his lyrics hold So much of the summer s gold ? Rapture of the roses caught, Into music deftly wrought ; Run and ripple of the rills All translated in his trills ; Every sweet, enchanted thing In his gladness made to sing. [ 280] NOCTURNE Ah, my mocking-bird, drink on Till the happy day is gone ; Till the pale moon rising up Drops the stars down in your cup ; Then to dreams once more, and then All the world grows still again ! NOCTURNE THE shifting shadows hide me : Love, let the curtains part, And light the stars to guide me Your eyes, Sweetheart ! She heard the music, note by note, Across the garden s fragrance float ; Faintly, at first, it came as though It were the wind s voice, soft and low A ghost of song that breathed upon The silence once, and then was gone. But soon it grew more clear and sweet ; And soon her heart began to beat With joy, and mark the measured time Of married melody and rhyme ; Then, through the curtains folds of lace, She looked and saw her lover s face. The vines have sworn to cheat me : Love, speak the word to start The rose from dreams to greet me Your lips, Sweetheart ! UNCOLLECTED POEMS She threw the lattice open wide A golden ray upon the tide Of darkness fell ; and there, all still, Moon- white above the window-sill, Like some strange flower of snow, she seemed To blossom while the garden dreamed. Far down, she saw him, rapt and mute The lover with his lyric lute ;1 Then, from her bosom, something white And fragrant dropped down through the night. Quickly, she threw the rose, and then The air grew sweet with song again. The bright star brings its token / / need no other chart. The roses lips have spoken Good night. Sweetheart ! A FIRST EDITION WHENEVER I go strolling down A bookish by-way in the town, It is my great delight to stop Within the Bookman s cosy shop, Where temptingly spread out to view Are books of all kinds, old and new, Editions curious and rare, And bindings rich beyond compare, And many of them priced so high One seldom can afford to buy. [282] A FIRST EDITION At such a time I ponder on The fate of Authors dead and gone, And think how grateful some would be To sell their books to-day to me To charge for any volume sought More than the whole edition brought Some slender sheaf of prose or rhyme Made priceless by the touch of Time. Thus I reflect, and long in vain To own a precious Tamerlane. Dear shade of Edgar Allan Poe, It is disquieting to know How much this very little thing In these degenerate days will bring, To feel that you for such a price Hell could have changed for Paradise, Balked Poverty a while and known Peace, which should be a Poet s own Exorbitant the price, and yet How small, considering the debt ! It may be maddening to find This relic of a Past unkind : A world s ingratitude and wrong Lie like a shadow on your song. Yet this must reconcile you some, To see, when to this shop you come, The dearest Poets on the shelf Are William Shakespeare and yourself [ 283 ] UNCOLLECTED POEMS Both vagabonds, both Poets Look Two Thousand Dollars for a Book I THE HOUSE OF DREAMS AROUSE not built by mortals, In summer days is mine : Wide open stand its portals All sweet with flower and vine. Complete it is, capacious Each airy hall and room, And welcome ever gracious Breathes from its walls of bloom. I Ve music made by fountains, By brooks and birds and gales ; My epics are the mountains, My lyrics are the vales. Frescos on every ceiling Painted by Morn and Night, And every niche revealing Some treasure of delight. Wine that is clear and sunny My grassy cellars hold, And jars heaped full of honey And cups of fragrant gold. [ 284] THE IMMORTAL FLOWER Many a leafy pennant Above my slumber streams : I am God s happy tenant In this dear house of dreams. LIMITATION FROM the smooth beach I took one grain of sand What countless myriads of them must be Piled up to make the islands that withstand The mighty onslaught of the surging sea ! And as I pondered came the thought to me, How this great world of water and of land To God is but a tiny grain which He Holds in the hollow of His open hand. THE IMMORTAL FLOWER LORD, in whose hands I am but dust Make Thou of me a vessel whole, Worthy to guard the precious soul Thou givest me in trust. Keep me unmarred by strife and sin Throughout my little span of years ; Let Joy s bright sun and Sorrow s tears Keep pure the flower therein. Grant if Thou wilt mine eyes to see It grow to beauty at Thy feet, To find at last the blossoms sweet Of Immortality. [285] UNCOLLECTED POEMS And when this body that is mine, This mortal shape which Thou hast made, Is dust and with the earth-dust laid, Lord, take the flower for Thine 1 THE END INDEXES INDEX OF FIRST LINES A cup of coffee, eggs, and rolls, 27. A cup of emerald, the valley, dim, 271. A girl to love, a pipe to smoke, 108. A house not built by mortals, 284. A little way below her chin, 15. A lyric is a tiny bird, 20. A rose on a spray where a brown bird sang, 88. A sculptor is the Sun, I know, 147. A tiny fire within this rose, 13. A vagabond, I roam at will, 277. Above a dome of gray; below, 8. Above the glowing embers, 86. Above the sea in splendor, 250. Across the billowy meadow grasses, 7. Across the level meadow-land, 4. After the rain goes by, 203. After the silence long, 231. After the winter s night, 229. All day I hear along the sandy shore, 255. All night I heard along the coast, 215. All the world is bright, 23. All up and down in shadow-town, 172. Alone I puff soft wreaths of blue, 36. Along the margin of the world, 187. Along the woods brown edge, 229. April ! 10. April brought the blossoms out, 166. As any child, this baby of the year s, 19. As Love and I went walking, 251. Asleep within her marble room she lies, 259. At evening when I go to bed, 147. At Naishapiir his ashes lie, 82. August, month when summer lies, 155. Awake, awake, O gracious heart, 68. Away with melancholy! 168. Back and forth the shuttles go, 199. Bees don t care about the snow, 192. [ 289 ] INDEX OF FIRST LINES Behind her fan of downy fluff, 66. Beneath the trees whose lisping brood, 126. Blooms in the east when darkness goes, 97. Blossom, little stars, and fill, 107. Blow, wind of March, and sing, 9. By day in Allah s azure urn, 98. By Dorothy in Cambridge town, 56. By night he spreads his white rays down, 194. By the fire that loves to tint her, 43. Captives to winter s cruel king, 186. Caressed by balmy gales that gently blow, 269. Caught in a crevice of the marble tomb, 266. Close by the margin tufts of grass, 12. Come, Pan, and pipe upon the reed, 64. Creeds for the credulous; but as for me, 263. Cupid, goe to Her in haste, 48. Cupid, tell me how to twine, 67. Day to my heart, 121. Dear Heart, do you remember, 244. Dear old Nantucket s isle of sand, 236. Dear Priscilla, quaint, and very, 40. Dear Rose, what volumes it would need to hold, 255. December s come and with her brought, 158. Deep in the ashes one live ember, 265. Deep in the woods, amid the giant trees, 258. Deep lies the snow on wood and field, 234. Divinely shapen cup, thy lip, 89. Down in a garden olden, 198. Echoes of song, ethereal they are, 272. Far in the distance looms a ship s dark hull, 262. February, fortnights two, 150. Flower and leaf of vine and tree, 279. For all Philosophy may teach, 263. For months I had suffered derision, 45. For you these tiny flowers are cut, 18. Friend, stay your steps awhile before, 136. From Paradise what soul with wings, 85. From sunrise to the set of sun, 214. From the marble of his thought, 93. [ 290 ] INDEX OF FIRST LINES From the minster s organ-loft, 80. From the smooth beach I took one grain of sand, 285. From the sunny climes of France, 74. From these downy flakes of snow, 170. From what mystery of space, 79. Ghosts of departed winged things, 88. Give me my happy poet s book, 83. Give me the room whose every nook, 137. Glass, wherein a Greek girl s tears, 213. Go, Heliotrope, 109. Go, little book with heart of rhyme, 140. Go, Rose, and in her golden hair, 106. Goe, little Rhyme, I greete Her, 47. Golden locks in cunning curl, 69. Good Winter, hear this wish I write, 113. Gracefulest of buoyant things, 224. Gray as the gulls above, San Marco lies, 271. Hark at the lips of this pink whorl of shell, 18. He was the first to welcome Spring, 215. Heedless how it may fare with Time, 240. Her china cup is white and thin, 66. Her greeting is a dulcet bell, 253. Her scuttle Hatt is wondrous wide, 65. Here are roses red, 252. Here is the cloth whereon the dew and sun, 264. Here s a lyric for September, 155. High in the old cathedral tower they hung, 260. His forehead he fringes and decks, 72. His home is yonder in the sky, 174. Homeless is she, forever wandering, 269. Hour after hour relentlessly the sun, 257. Humming-bird, 163. I care not that the snow lies deep, in. I heard a sweet voice singing in the night, 95. "I love you," he whispered low, 24. I often sit and wish that I, 168. I read the verses from my copy, 34. I smile, and then the Sun comes out, 176. If any grace, 21. Implacable and stern, the captive, Hate, 263. [ 2 9 I ] INDEX OF FIRST LINES In agony of death throughout the night, 262. In her dark hair a lustrous jewel gleams, 98. In Nature s open book, 99. In quiet splendor fell the Southern night, 273. In the black jungle of the sky now wakes, 261. In the day or night, 179. In the green woods is the brook, 223. In the hush of the night he heard, 91. In the pasture s clover deep, 131. In the soft wind that blows, 126. In the Tavern of the Tree, 280. In this white world of wonder, 230. In vain the quest: no mortal eyes may know, 257. In winter, when the wind I hear, 162. Into the slumber of the Day there came, 265. It is my joy in life to find, 228. It matters not how far I fare, 246. It was the middle of the night, 205. January, bleak and drear, 149. Jasmines tangled in her hair, 24. July, for you the songs are sung, 154. Lady, at your lattice I, 51. Launched in the darkness on an unknown sea, 263. Let a song be softly sung, 119. Let me a garland twine, 225. Let us go forth and meet her, 122. Lift the oars and let us go, 3. Like mimic meteors the snow, 9. Listen to the tawny thief, 19. Little drop of dew, 182. Little mimic of the sun, 15. Lonely once, my love away, 112. Long centuries ago, those Persian boys, 204. Long time she sat, yet never touched a string, 118. Long years ago there lived a King, 159. Long years within its sepulchre, 101. Lord, in whose hands I am but dust, 285. Love, at your door young Cupid stands, 1 10. Love, how I miss you in this little room! 275. Love I locked upon a time, 22. Love, throw thy lattice open to the night, 120. [ 292 ] INDEX OF FIRST LINES Love, when we parted, you and I, 115. Lying beside the margin of the deep, 98. Madrigals and catches caught, 2. March! and all the winds cry, March! 150. May shall make the world anew, 152. Meadows lost in clouds of mist, 6. Muse, grant me some new simile to sing, 61. Mute the music of the fiddle, 49. My heart was winter-bound until, 247. My Love is like a Winter rose, 252. My songs are all for her, 247. Nandc, the faithful, pausing once to pray, 95. No leaf is stirring in the tree, 125. Not his alone the gift divine, 220. Now hide the flowers beneath the snow, 173. Now since it knows, 241. Now winter fills the world with snow, 181. O June! delicious month of June, 153. O nightingale among the leaves, 43. O robin in the cherry-tree, 164. O white moon sailing down the sky, 161. October is the month that seems, 156. Of all the threads of rhyme, 218. Of books I sing, but not of those, 139. Oftentimes there come to me, 100. Once in the morning when the breeze, 197. Once, long ago, in some sweet garden s hush, 19. Once, when the doors of night were open thrown, 59. One morning in the garden, 187. One morning when the rain was done, 192. Only a whispering gale, 79. Out of a pebble from the desert sands, 279. Out of a pellucid brook, 164. Out of my window I could see, 146. Out of the purple drifts, 211. Out of the scabbard of the night, 261. Out of the sky they come, 184. Outdoors the white rain coming down, 151. Outside, the blasts of winter blow, 68. Over the convent wall, 117. [ 293 1 INDEX OF FIRST LINES Over the rim, a fiery ball, 261. Over valley, over hill, 188. River or sea, the voice is still the same, 265. Rose in the garden-close, 17. Roses are the rhymes I wreathe, 253. Santa Claus, I hang for you, 165. Scamper, little leaves, about, 178. Screening her face of loveliness behind, 264. See, yonder, the belfry tower, 85. Seraglio of the Sultan Bee! 97. She finds companionship in field and wood, 63. She wears a most bewitching bang, 71. Slender strips of crimson sky, 4. Slight is the thing it needs to wake, 217. Slumber, slumber, little one, now, 193. Softly the little wind goes by, 216. Song like a rose should be, 116. Spring is the morning of the year, 148. Still on the corner stands the school, 53. Strange how much sentiment, 38. Strolling along the granite coast I caught, 262. Sweetheart, comes laughing April now, 248. Sweetheart, the buds are on the tree, 249. Sweetheart, the year is young, 25. Sweetheart, when rhymes I make, 104. T was spring when I first found it out, 31. The air is keen, the sky is clear, 133. The bugling winds their solemn dirges blow, 262. The days come, 93. The fence on either side is down, 129. The garden is a royal court, 183. The little leaves upon the trees, 190. The meadow is a battle-field, 160. The shifting shadows hide me, 281. The sky is full of clouds to-day, 177. The soft wind whispered secrets to the apple tree, 16. The songs I make, they are not mine, 219. The sturdy wind that fills the ship s white sail, 18. The sun sank red in the dull gray west, 130. The sunset fades, and once again the hills, 272. I 294 ] INDEX OF FIRST LINES The theatres are out, and on Broadway, 274. The white stars blossom in the skies, 58. The woodland brooks that murmur as they go, 148. There came a day in winter when the sun, 258. There is a funny fellow, 174. There s a word in my heart, dare I tell it? 32. There was a time, fond girl, when you, 29. They gather round him, one and all, 200. They have the scarlet of her lips, 276. This be my wish: let all my lines, 266. This bronze our Lincoln s noble head doth bear, 276. This is a naiad s drinking cup, 128. This is brave Harro s story, 221. This is what a fairy heard, 171. Thou feathered minstrel perched in yonder tree, 256. Three giant fir- trees reach their arms, 12. Throughout the long, enchanted summer hours, 264. Tinkle, tinkle! 193. To lie beneath a cloudless sky, n. Unto his parching lips a cup, 134. Up from the underworld the shadows crowd, 261. Up in her balcony where, 103. Up in your cage of gold, 176. Up, slender vine, your love is mine, 106. Upon a mottled, tawny leopard-skin, 61. Upon a mountain-summit high, 90. Upon the walls the graceful Ivy climbs, 264. Voice of the wind, of singing brook and bird, 217. Wee, little rimless wheel of Fate, 14. What fires were kindled in the autumn s urn! 274. What joy to rest beside the brook that goes, 270. What magic flutes are these that make, 232. What time the night-bird to the rose, 28. When all the ground with snow is white, 197. When blossoms born of balmy spring, 73. When I set free my Golden- wing, 278. When I spin round without a stop, 175. When I was but a lad of eight, 52. When I was young, and long before, 145. When I was young I made a vow, 211. [ 295 1 INDEX OF FIRST LINES When in her lap you lie, 35. When out-of-doors is full of rain, 189. When pale Selene, in her crescent boat, 59. When study and school are over, 196. When Summer comes and brings the rose, 92. When the open fire is lit, 180. When the sun shines, then I see, 191. When twilight conies, and nature stills, 64. When Winter hushes for a time, 234. Whenever I go strolling down, 282. Where heedless winds around him blow, 98. White in her woven shroud, 212. Who can tell us whence they come, 184. Who shall sing to bleak November, 157. Whoso enters at this portal, 242. Why all the stars in the sky are so bright, 190. Winged wanderer from clover meadows sweet, 60. Within a belfry built of bloom, 233. Within a spot where slept the silent dead, 62. Within the meadow of Time s book, 135. Within the stone Sahara of the Town, 265. Within this silent palace of the Night, 97. Wondrous things have come to pass, 169. Worn is the winter rug of white, 235. You who at my elbow sit, 114. INDEX OF TITLES Ad Astra, 107. Allah s House, 95. Anemone, 147. Apple Blossoms, 16. April, 19. April, 151. April, 231. April Carol, An, 10. Arbutus, 229. Archer, The, 174. Aspiration, 135. At Midnight, 85. At the Door, 28. Attainment, 93. August, 155. Autumn Leaves, 279. Avowal, An, 32. "Awake, Awake," 68. Bacchus, 19. Backlog Dreams, 86. Bees, 192. Behind her Fan, 66. Betrayal, 258. Betrothal, A, 24. Bird s Elegy, A, 215. Birds Music, 190. Blossoms, 146. Book-Hunter, The, 27. Books, 135. Book, To his, 140. Bower of Cupid, The, 242. Breath of Song, 80. Breezes of Morning, 59. Broadway at Midnight, 274. Bronze Medal of Lincoln by Victor D. Brenner, On a, 276. Brook Accompaniment, The, 270. Bunch of Quatrains, A, 18. Bundle of Letters, A, 38. Buttercups, On some, 15. Butterfly in Wall Street, A, 60. Canary, The, 176. Canoe Song, 224. Catch, A, 21. Cathedral Bells, The, 260. Charm, The, 217. Cherries, 166. Christmas Cat, The, 205. Cigar, A, 36. City Sparrows, 265. Clock, On a, 112. Clouds, 177. Colonial Missive, A, 56. Come, Pan, and Pipe, 64, Confession, 211. Contentment, 108. Contrast, 98. Contrast, 266. Coquette, A, 71. Cupid, To, 67. Cupid, February 14, To, 48. Daisies, 147. Daisy, To a, 14. Dancing Gypsy, The, 6l. Dandelion, To a, 15. Dawn, 261. Dawn and Dusk, 4. Day Dream, 265. Day s Shroud, The, 214. Daybreak, 134. December, 158. Derelict, 262. Dewdrop, A, 182. Dies Ultima, 212. Dirge, 119. Dobson, Austin, To, 74. Dreams, 184. Dusk, 261. Echo, 269. Elfin Lamps, 190. End of Autumn, The, 274. [297] INDEX OF TITLES Engaged, 49. Eternity Lane, 129. Experience, 278. Fairies Dance, The, 197. Fairy Jewels, 161. Fairy Shipwreck, 192. Fairy Story, A, 171. Familiar Melody, The, 272. Fancy, 3. FANCY, 77, 209. Fancy, To, 79. February, 9. February, 150. Fire Fancies, 265. First Edition, A, 282. Fly-Leaf to the Reader, The, 136. Flying Kite, 168. Fog, 262. Footprints in the Snow, 235. For Music, 247. For Poppies, 276. For Saynte Valentyne, his Daye, 47. Forgotten Books, 139. Fortress of San Marco, The, 271. Four Winds, The, 162. French Follies, 64. Fulfilment, 91. Funny Fellow, A, 174. Garland, A, 225. Ghost Fairies, 180. Glow-Worm, A, 12. Goal, The, 263. Golden-Rod, 148. Good-Night, 58. Grass, 264. Greek Vase, On a, 89. Greeting for Spring, A, 122. Gypsy, 277. Harbor of Dreams, The, 79. Harro, 221. Heliotrope, 109. Her China Cup, 66. Her Guitar, 43. Her Smile his Sunlight, 104. Herrick, With, 223. Hide-and-Seek, 173. His Desire, 218. His Starlight, 114. Hollyhock, A, 97. Honeysuckles, 233. House of Dreams, The, 284. Humming-bird Song, 163. Ice-Prisoner, The, 8. Idyllic, ii. Immortal Flower, The, 285. In a Garden, 264. In Absence, 246. In an Old Garden, 12. In Parenthesis, 34. In the Clover, 131. In the Meadow, 160. In the Orchard, 164. Indian Summer, 7. Interpreter, The, 220. Israfel, 85. Ivy, 264. January, 149. Jester Bee, 183. Juggler, The, 170. Juliet, To, 240. July, 154- June, 153- King Bell, 159. Knowledge, 263. Kriss Kringle, 168. Labor Omnia Vincit, 279. Last Letter, The, 101. Leaves at Play, 178. Library, The, 137. Life, 263. Limitation, 285. Lincoln, On a Bronze Medal of, 276. LITTLE-FOLK LYRICS, 143. Lonely Room, The, 275. Loom of Song, The, 269. LOVE, 100, 240. Love s Seasons, 31. Love s Springtide, 247. Lullaby, 193. Lyric, A: "A lyric is a tiny bird," INDEX OF TITLES Lyric, A : "Lady, at your lattice I," 51 . Lyrics, 99. LYRICS FOR A LUTE, 77. LYRICS OF JOY, 209. Madrigal, A: "All the world is bright," 23. Madrigal, A: "Sweetheart, the year is young," 25. MADRIGALS AND CATCHES, i. March, 150. March Wind, The, 9. Mastery, 262. May, 152. May-Children, 186. May Madrigal, A, 249. May Morning, 232. Memories, 118. Memories, 251. Miss Thomas s "A New Year s Masque," 63. Mnemosyne s Mirror, 92. Mocking Bird, To a, 256. Moods, 90. Moonlight, 271. Moonlight and Music, 244. Moonrise, 97. Morning Mist, 4. Moths, 88. Muse, The, 45. Muse, The, 219. Music, 257. My April, 248. My Love, To, 68. My Message, To, 35. Naiad s Cup, The, 128. Nantucket, 236. NATURE, 122, 229. Nobility, 18. Nocturne: "Above the sea in splen dor," 250. Nocturne: "Love, throw thy lattice open to the night," 120. Nocturne: "The shifting shadows hide me," 281. Noontide, 125. November, 157. Nun s Rose, The, 117. October, 156. Of Rhyme, 73. Old Garden, In an, 12. Old Rondo, An, 65. Old Song, An, 100. Omar, The Story of, 204. Omar Khayyam, 82. On a Bronze Medal of Lincoln by Victor D. Brenner, 276. On a Clock, 112. On a Greek Vase, 89. On some Buttercups, 15. Pacific Dawn, A, 59. " Pansies for Thoughts," 18. Pebbles, 164. Penalty, The, 263. Pepita, 103. Perpetuity, 95. Persian Dancing Girl, A, 24. Persian Nocturne, A, 43. Poet, The, 217. Poppies, For, 276. Prayer, A, 228. Priscilla, A Rhyme for, 40. Quatrain, A: "Hark at the lips of this pink whorl of shell," 18. QUATRAINS, 18, 97, 261. Quatrains, A Bunch of, 18. Rain-Harp, The, 189. Rainbow, The, 203. Real Santa Claus, A, 165 Re-awakening, 62. Red Rose, A, 19. Remembrance, 121. Reminiscence, A, 29. Revery, 83. Rhyme, Of, 73. Rhyme for Priscilla, A, 40. Robin s Apology, 187. Romance, 273. Rose, 264. Rose, To a, 106. Rose, With a, 13. Rose Lore, 241. Rose Lyric, A, 17. Rose s Cup, The, 198. [299] INDEX OF TITLES Saint Rose, 255. Saynte Valentyne, his Daye, For, 47. Sea Fancy, A, 262. Sea Ghost, A, 215. Secret, 216. September, 155. Shadow Children, 191. Shadow Pictures, 179. Shadows, The, 172. Shower, The, 257. Sky-Ship, The, 126. Smiles and Tears, 176. Snare, A, 22. Snow Song, 188. Snow s Dreamer, The, 259. Snow-Bird, The, 197. Snow- Weaver, The, 199. Snowflakes, 184. Soldiers of the Sun, 187. Song, 116. Song: "Her greeting is a dulcet bell," 253- Song: "Roses are the rhymes I wreathe," 253. Song for Winter, 181. Song s Echo, A, 252. SONNETS, 59, 255. Sorcery, 88. Spinning Top, 175. Spring s Coming, 148. Starlight, 261. Storm, 130. Storm, 261. Story of Omar, The, 204. Story-Teller, The, 200. Strategy, 61. Summer, 6. Sun and Moon, 98. Sunrise, 97. Surf Music, 98. Surf Music, 255. Swell, A, 72. Tear Bottle, A, 213. Time s Song, 93. To a Daisy, 14. To a Dandelion, 15. To a Mocking Bird, 256. To a Rose, 106. To Austin Dobson, 74. To Cupid, 67. To Cupid, February 41, 48. To Fancy, 79. To Her, 247. To his Book, 140. To Juliet, 240. To my Father, 2. To my Love, 68. To my Message, 35. To the Little Readers, 145. To Winter, 113. Tree Tavern, The, 280. Twilight, 272. Two Songs, 253. UNCOLLECTED POEMS, 267. Under her Balcony, 106. Unspoken, 115. Untutored Mind, An, 52. Vacation Song, 146. Valentine to an Anonymous Miss, 69. Valentines, no. Village School, The, 53. Violet, 230. Waterfall, The, 193. When Twilight comes, 64. White Magic, 234. Winter, To, 113. Winter Dreams, 234. Winter Pool, The, 258. Winter Starlight, 133. Winter s Acrobats, 194. Winter s Beggar, 98. Wish, A, 266. Witchery, 211. With a Rose, 13. With Herrick, 223. With Roses, 252. Wizard Frost, 169. Woodland Spring, A, 126. Writ in Water, 265. Year s Day, The, 229. 14 DAY USE RETURN TO DESK FROM WHICH BORROWED LOAN DEPT. This book is due on the last date stamped below, or on the date to which renewed. Renewed books are subject to immediate recall. APR 2 5 LD 21A-50m-ll, 62 (D3279slO)476B General Library University of California Berkeley FOURTEEN DAY USE RETURN TO DESK FROM WHICH BORROWED This book is due on the last date stamped below, or on the date to which renewed. Renewed books are subject to immediate recall. 3iay 55lO LD 21-100m-2, 55 (B139s22)476 General Library University of California Berkeley ghftrm^n , f 4888G .T>. 953 1 3553 The oo eras of F.D. Sher- man* 468884 UNIVERSITY OF CALIFORNIA LIBRARY