E73 
 
 CAOC o 
 
 fGold 
 
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 of the El Dorado 
 
 Campbell 
 
 00 
 C\J 
 03 
 
 Souvenir Edtiion 
 
GIFT Of 
 Glass of 1387 
 
The Age of Gold 
 
 Being a collection of Northland tales, song, 
 sketch andnarrative, miner-legend and camp- 
 fire reflections, all gleaned at first hand and 
 done in doubtful metre by an eager listener. 
 
 Luther Eugene Campbell 
 
 
 Press 
 
 OTfntaker anb &aj> - TOtgstn Co. 
 
 San Francisco 
 
COPYRIGHT, 1909 
 
 BY 
 LUTHER EUGENE CAMPBELL 
 
INSCRIPTION AND ACKNOWLEDGMENT 
 
 To that loyal comrade and friend whose 
 kindly sympathy and companionship brightened 
 the long years of our mutual endeavor in the 
 Yukon-Northwest : 
 
 To my mining partner, 
 
 Heabentoortf) Hersrtjato, 
 
 this little volume is addressed by its author, in 
 grateful and affectionate remembrance. 
 
 I also desire to acknowledge the valued service 
 of a friend and classmate of college days: 
 
 (Ebgar $aul Hearp 
 
 to whose able and scholarly criticism I am indebted 
 in the score of euphony and clearness, for the cor 
 rection of many faulty passages. 
 
 L. E. C. 
 
 740016 
 
INTRODUCTION 
 
 If needed. 
 
 The author of this small sprig of poesy made 
 one of the many thousands who sought the gold- 
 fields of Alaska following the discovery of placer 
 deposits in the upper Yukon basin in 1896-1897. 
 
 The long trail whose drama stretched from the 
 shores of Puget Sound to the Arctic Ocean, was his 
 salutation to the North. He found there a land of 
 mystery and fabled wealth, the lure of which drew 
 the multitude ever on and on, in rainbow promise, 
 to the uttermost recesses of its wilderness and 
 desolation. 
 
 The story of this hardy band of Argonauts who 
 adventured to our last frontier is worthy of a Mil 
 ton s pen; a Titian s brush, but it can never be 
 fully told by picture, prose or poem. One dominant 
 note, at first in buoyant major and later in minor 
 cadence as hope failed of fruition, rang through the 
 years while the panoramic play was lived in pro 
 gression. The memory of that Pan-played chord is 
 graven deep in the hearts of the tens of thousands 
 who gave, and still are giving, of their best years to 
 
 [v] 
 
INTRODUCTION 
 
 a struggle which has no parallel in the annals of 
 human history. 
 
 He who would truly depict the scenes of 
 Northern life; who would give to the world the 
 moving tale of that far pilgrimage from civilization 
 to the frozen solitudes of the Alaskan-Northwest, 
 must have lived in its action; have shared a miner s 
 privations, toil and disappointment; have known 
 and felt his hopes and aspirations, and joyed with 
 him in the hour of his success. The theme is not for 
 the mere and casual spectator, for pen and brush 
 must draw from the heart ere they can portray with 
 fidelity the scene and setting of that strange journey, 
 which, marked with the life-blood of men whose 
 shallow graves dot the bleak hillsides of many a 
 mountain pass, called for the dauntless courage and 
 resolution with which our Pilgrim fathers set forth 
 for the New World s shore. 
 
 Realizing his limitations; his unfitness for the 
 production of classic song, and that destiny denied 
 him an early opportunity for the attainment of that 
 ripe scholarship and profound erudition, which is 
 deemed necessary if one who writes would be 
 immune from the attacks of the literary jackals who 
 
 [Of] 
 
INTRODUCTION 
 
 consider themselves critics, the author yet would 
 give his song to the world in the hope that its 
 untutored melody may gladden the hearts of those 
 rough and simple men of action, whom even the 
 unlettered muse may joy. To his miner-brothers, 
 to those who dared, and paid the cost, he looks for a 
 lasting appreciation of his work an appreciation 
 which their common kinship must surely give. The 
 immortal bards have sung all songs but his, and if 
 a lesser lyric fail to attain the high mark set by their 
 measures, it becomes a sure prey to the gaunt ghouls 
 of criticism. 
 
 With no thought of palliating a noble rage at 
 his presumption, in thus daring to invade with these 
 miner-tropes the sacred realm of song, he yet desires 
 to forestall an unnecessary labor on the part of these 
 Herculean janitors of literature, by hastening to add 
 that he entertains no higher opinion of his fitness 
 for the task of metrical composition, than do the 
 gentle critics whose stricture of his verse and creative 
 capacity is appended to this volume. He cannot but 
 believe that those who speak so authoritatively of its 
 merit have enriched the literature of the world by 
 splendid and dazzling song of absolute metrical per 
 fection, surpassing at least the humbler poets. 
 
INTRODUCTION 
 
 Yet, whatever may be the reception or recog 
 nition accorded this work by those who tenant the 
 tall canyoned walls of city streets ; they whose hearts 
 turn in longing to green glades which border lake and 
 stream; those to whom vale and mountain call in 
 homing welcome; those who too have lived and 
 labored in miner-haunts beneath Northern skies, will 
 find in it some re-echoed thought of life s better 
 moments, which they, each one, have felt and known 
 and treasured. 
 
 The Age of Gold was written by many camp- 
 fires; along wintry trails; in the blessed after 
 math of rest from wearying toil, and amid the 
 scenic pageantry and motion of that Eldorado-land 
 of which it speaks; and the pure pleasure of giving 
 expression, even in halting metre, to an epic which 
 would portray in part the ideal of that heroic North 
 ward migration, has been a reward which no scathe 
 of critic can taint or lessen. 
 
 L. E. C. 
 Goldfield, Nev., Oct. 10, 1908. 
 
 [ vm ] 
 
IN PREFACE 
 
 We bid you welcome to our band, 
 Who yet may chance to read 
 This song of Eldorado-land, 
 Its peril, pilgrimage and deed. 
 
 Good friends and true would proffer here 
 A comrade s hearty greeting, 
 Invite you each to share their cheer 
 And pleasure at the meeting. 
 
 Happy our concourse mid such scenes 
 Of mutual mirth and pleasure, 
 From boon companionship Hope gleans 
 Her golden harvest s measure. 
 
 Come, gather to the fire and sup 
 Of Nature s plenty here displayed, 
 Come taste our fare and quaff the cup 
 While gently falls the twilight shade. 
 
 Here in fellowship heart- royal 
 All are brothers to the free, 
 
THE AGE OF GOLD 
 
 Here assembled comrades loyal 
 Make a blithesome company. 
 
 Distant is the crowded city, 
 vFar removed the busy mart, 
 Yet be ours the part to pity 
 Here we dwell near Nature s heart. 
 
 These are they who voyage ever 
 On the stormy seas of life, 
 Making each his best endeavor 
 To win fortune in the strife. 
 
 Youth s impetuous footstep hastens 
 Hope-sped, eager for the race, 
 Soon unkind experience chastens 
 To sedater measured pace. 
 
 Next a man of high ambition 
 Who would scale the height of fame, 
 Late he learns man s true condition 
 Is content with honored name. 
 
IN PREFACE 
 
 Still another has been banished 
 By stern destiny s decree; 
 Life s illusions long have vanished, 
 True philosopher is he. 
 
 Fourth is he of sturdy figure 
 Who has been misfortune s mate, 
 Hardship, toil, privation s rigor, 
 Taught him patiently to wait. 
 
 Last comes one who listened eager 
 While the journey sped along, 
 His has been the effort meagre 
 To repeat its storied song. 
 
 So once again a welcome hearty 
 Each one here to you extends, 
 Come, join us in the revel-party 
 Where the evergreen bough bends. 
 
THE ELDORADO SEEKING 
 
 Deep down mid primordial vastness 
 
 Where falls no bright sun-ray, 
 
 Close locked within icy fastness 
 
 In age long seons passed away 
 
 The North s alluvial beds would hold 
 
 Their hoarded treasure of shining gold 
 
 Ever, and forever, and a day. 
 
 But the miner came with his pick and pan, 
 
 With his thews of sturdy strength, 
 
 And wrought to learn the primal plan 
 
 Till the gold was found at length, 
 
 Till stream and hill and ocean shore 
 
 Gave back their wealth to his toil-learned lore 
 
 And the elemental might of a man. 
 
 He had wandered far from his native heath 
 To this Northland s frost-ribbed vales, 
 He had digged down to the rock beneath 
 And more, he had hearkened to the tales 
 When, gathered about the fire at night, 
 Some trapper told of the pebbles bright 
 Once found, entombed in their icy sheath. 
 
 [4] 
 
<fHE ELDORADO SEEKING 
 
 There, toiling in faith, from friends exiled 
 Far from loved ones he dwelt apart, 
 Yet visions of home, of the wife and child 
 Distant, but dear to his lonely heart 
 Would oft times come, to urge him seek 
 For the trapper s golden-graveled creek, 
 And once again was his hope beguiled. 
 
 They nestle by each lone mountain-side 
 The cabin homes of them who tried 
 To wrest from the eternal hills, 
 From rivulet channel, rift and rills, 
 From where age-buried centuries left 
 In seam and crevice, clay and cleft, 
 The gold Dame Nature strives to hide. 
 
 "Ye hearts of men, born to unrest 
 
 Hope on, tis heritage of the race, 
 
 And wide though be thy search and quest 
 
 At last thou comes t to the place 
 
 Where Earth s true riches do abide, 
 
 Yet if thou seekest alone, in pride, 
 
 Ne er South, nor North, nor East, nor West. 3 
 
 [5] 
 
THE FINDING 
 
 Prologue in recitavo 
 
 The sad-tinted Autumn had come to the land, 
 The song of the Summer was stilled by its hand, 
 The blight of the Arctic had spread o er the earth 
 To harvest in death what the Spring gave in birth, 
 When two hunter-comrades their quarry gave chase 
 On the flank of a mountain, and close in its trace 
 Reached the course of a stream which, cleared at a 
 
 bound 
 
 By the moose in its flight, in its footprints they found 
 A dull gleaming pebble, and gave the stream name 
 Of Bonanza^ all hail to its glory and fame. 
 
 The news of the find was a herald of hope 
 And rumor ran relay to tell of its scope, 
 Prospectors stampeded from near and from far, 
 From Circle, from Rampart, from Forty-Mile bar 
 They flocked to the Klondyke, for promise allured 
 And richer and greater reward was assured. 
 With the first bullion shipment its story was told, 
 The Portland brought down a half million in gold 
 And an Argonaut pilgrimage northward began 
 Such as ne er had been seen in the era of man. 
 
THE TIDINGS 
 
 tfime Autumn, 1897 
 
 "Attention, friend, tis said that past 
 Alaska s rugged barrier chain 
 Where sweeps the bitter wintry blast 
 Along its mountain and its plain, 
 There lies a land whose streams abound 
 With yellow gold which, lately found, 
 To them who but make haste and reach 
 Their golden strands, to all and each 
 A fortune waits, that here would be 
 Beyond a lifetime s hope to see. 
 
 That tis no idle tale is proven 
 For ships arrive with treasure laden 
 And tidings bring that, as they sailed 
 From out the port, a steamer hailed, 
 But then arriving down the river, 
 To say each day new fields discover, 
 And virgin ground of vast extent 
 Awaits the coming and advent 
 Of men, whose venturous hardihood 
 Bids them to share in amplitude. 
 
 [7] 
 
<?HE AGE OF GOLD 
 
 So vast its wealth tis said that they 
 Who ventured there in earlier day 
 And found the Eldorado s treasure, 
 Now fling its gold about for pleasure, 
 Or seeking what no gold can buy, 
 A wanton s greed must gratify, 
 And nightly dance-house dissipation 
 Vies shameless orgies of libation; 
 What say st thou, neighbor, go we there 
 Where honest toil may win its share?" 
 
 Sped the message far and wide, 
 
 Press, pulpit, people voiced the tale 
 
 How fortune beamed on those who plied 
 
 The pick, along the Klondyke s vale. 
 
 What wonder then from every land, 
 
 Of all conditions, high and low, 
 
 Came fifty thousand men, a band 
 
 Undaunted by that waste of snow 
 
 Which crowned the pass and mountain height ; 
 
 Soldiers of Fortune, theirs the fight. 
 
 Embarking with the hurrying throng 
 Whose pulse throbs with expectancy, 
 
<fHE TIDINGS 
 
 Are those whose hearts affection strong 
 
 Wrings there to deepest misery. 
 
 They part from all that life holds dear; 
 
 Let others join the gusty cheer 
 
 And turn with jest and laughter light 
 
 To view the harbor fade from sight. 
 
 "Dwell here, Dear Heart, near to my side," 
 
 To them the loved one s parting cried. 
 
 They voyage on, a week glides past 
 Ere Chilcoot s peaks are seen at last, 
 But soon they stand upon the beach 
 Below the summit they must reach. 
 The scene is one past power of pen 
 Its throngs of eager-busied men; 
 Bags, boxes, bales, strange cargoed freight 
 Scattered in all disordered state, 
 While here and there the comers new 
 Discuss the problem, "What to do." 
 
 Resolved, at length they take the trail 
 Upward and onward through the snow; 
 As beasts of burden they must scale 
 The glaciered cliffs toward which they go, 
 
 [9] 
 
tfHJE AGE OF GOLD 
 
 For each, supplies in ample store 
 Has landed at the Inlet s shore, 
 And to the Yukon s upper course 
 Must each transport a year s resource. 
 No weakling task this, strength will need 
 A heart courageous for the deed. 
 
 Thus pass the weeks, their toil each day 
 Is surceased by the thought that they 
 Are nearing that famed river s slope 
 Which fancy limns in golden hope. 
 Sheeps Camp the Scales at last tis won, 
 Before them glittering in the sun 
 The phalanxed mountain ranges show; 
 Achievement thrills with generous glow 
 And with their sleds they haste to make 
 A camping spot beside the lake. 
 
 Springtime has v come, the month is May, 
 A boat is built, they sail away 
 Adown Lake Bennett s snow-peaked shore, 
 Eager to learn what lies before. 
 Safely they crest Mile s Canyon s swirl, 
 Surge safely through White Horse s curl, 
 [to] 
 
TIDINGS 
 
 Where maddened waters rush to gloat 
 Exultant o er the laden boat, 
 And all the hardy helmsman s skill 
 Avails for naught, if fates be ill. 
 
 Their craft sweeps on, the river s brink 
 Is dotted now with camp and tent; 
 Storm-swept LaBerge, Five Fingers, Rink, 
 Pass in their turn and soon are blent 
 In memory with some newer scene 
 As mount and meadowed island green, 
 Each curve of the broad current shows ; 
 They reach the place at last where flows 
 The aural Klondyke, whose bright sand 
 Has lured them from their native land. 
 
 This pilgrim-journal shall not pause 
 
 Until one thing of truth is told, 
 
 Of wrong there wrought to them, its cause 
 
 Rapacious greed of men who hold 
 
 A public trust but means for plunder, 
 
 And, scorning right, rend laws asunder. 
 
 Officials high in public state 
 
 Their henchmen placed there to create 
 
<fHE AGE OF GOLD 
 
 A petty, pilfering, knavish crew 
 To thieve away the miner s due. 
 
 Dishonesty sat throned in grace, 
 Corruption held high power and place 
 And so exempt, the officialed few 
 More arrogant, for booty grew. 
 Did HEARDMAN heed that men had fought 
 Long weeks and months to make advance, 
 Or FAWCETT care that now they sought 
 In simple right, a miner s chance*? 
 From SIF TON S gang, appeal were vain 
 For spoil and plunder held the rein. 
 
 No sum could recompense the men 
 Whose wrongs are writ on every page 
 Of records, where, had they but been 
 As was their right and heritage, 
 Inscribed as owners and in fee, 
 Success, not failure, now would be 
 Their lot, and part, and where now stand 
 Deserted cabins through the land, 
 A thriving populace would dwell 
 Whose days would Plenty s blessing tell. 
 
RAFTSMAN S CHANTEY 
 
 "Heave ho, my bully boys, away heave ho," 
 
 Calls the doughty captain and the raftsmen know 
 
 There is work ahead to do, 
 
 They must scape each shoal and slough, 
 
 Ere they reach the landing-eddy they must row. 
 
 Heave ho, my bully boys, away heave ho, 
 
 Let each stalwart son of toil his mettle show, 
 
 As along the turbid stream 
 
 To the rippling waters gleam, 
 
 We float onward with the flood s majestic flow. 
 
 Heave ho, my bully boys, again heave ho, 
 
 On adown the current of the river now we go, 
 
 We have labored long and hard, 
 
 For our journey s-end reward, 
 
 Now we venture to the market far below. 
 
 Heave hard, my bully boys, walk her away, 
 Bring the force of all your mighty sweeps in play, 
 In that draw the shallows lurk, 
 
<fHE AGE OF GOLD 
 
 Work back to the channel, work, 
 
 Or our boom will bleach on bars for many a day. 
 
 Ease her now, my bullies, the danger is by, 
 
 Fill your pipes and watch the graceful swallows fly, 
 
 With such men to man the craft, 
 
 We could ride a bubble-raft, 
 
 Slough and shallow, bar and breaker we defy. 
 
 Heigh-ho, my bullies, the landing s in sight, 
 
 And we ll join the mad carousal there tonight, 
 
 There ll be fiddling, frolic, fun, 
 
 There ll be bright gold lost and won, 
 
 Though the raftsman s toil is hard, his heart is light. 
 
THE GOOD HOPE MINE 
 
 Oh, be this the spot where the gold is secreted, 
 We have delved oft before in the fulness of hope, 
 And again have essayed till our search be completed, 
 To compass the task which the miner must cope. 
 
 Afar we have sought it the place of our vision, 
 By moorland and mountain continued the quest 
 Though ever has issue disheartened decision 
 To seek it anew with first ardor and zest. 
 
 We hear of old comrades whose rich acquisition 
 Has brought them the plenty they hoped to com 
 mand, 
 
 Let us now to the shaft and from bed-rock s position, 
 Disclose if reward for our toil shall be bann d. 
 
 Draw near as the bucket ascends to the surface, 
 Our comrade beneath in the dim candle glow 
 Bespeaks a belief that this gravel will preface 
 The golden deposit the channel should show. 
 
<?HE AGE OF GOLD 
 
 It topples the platform, a moment suspended 
 The windlass-drum creaks at its sudden release, 
 And safe on the landing is quickly up-ended; 
 Eureka! tis part of the famed golden fleece. 
 
 "Ahoy there below, we have struck a bonanza, 
 The bright metal gleams in the earth at our feet;" 
 We christened our mine the "Good Esperanza," 
 For hope beckoned on to a fortune replete. 
 
 [16] 
 
THE TALE OF THE MIDAS MINE 
 
 A Prospector s Story 
 Epilogue 
 
 Gold, gold, thing of potency and power 
 
 With gift to cheat and charm, 
 
 Alway in an evil hour 
 
 Thou comest to hurt and harm 
 
 And in thy death-alluring train 
 
 Bring st gross-devouring lust of gain, 
 
 Bring st curse of suffering and pain. 
 
 In strange, mysterious fateful ways 
 
 Mankind behest of thine obeys, 
 
 E en though thy form s enchantment shows 
 
 Afar mid wastes of polar snows. 
 
 Gold, jest thou art of unkind fate, 
 
 Composed of hope and hell and hate 
 
 Which, for our footstep lies in wait. 
 
THE AGE OF GOLD 
 The Rumored Tale 
 
 Long years ago a vessel passed 
 
 Through Behring s polar gate, 
 
 Imprisoned in an ice-pack fast 
 
 It drave north-eastward from the strait, 
 
 Then far to the East the current bore, 
 
 When, driven to an unknown shore, 
 
 By wide floe fields encircled round, 
 
 She sank within an islet sound, 
 
 And all her crew, save one, were drowned. 
 
 That sole survivor made his way 
 Across MacKenzie s berg-strewn bay, 
 Across the vapor-curtained field 
 Whose danger ever it half concealed, 
 Along moraine and glacial pass, 
 O er rugged ridge and deep crevasse, 
 And, starving, reached a whaling post 
 Maintained upon the Arctic coast; 
 This is the story of his host : 
 
 "When, in delirium, fever toss d 
 The tale of suffering he told, 
 
<fHE ^ALE OF <?HE MIDAS MINE 
 
 Ever in wandering, he crossed 
 A river, paved with gold; 
 Deep in a gorge, and near its head, 
 A stream by glitt ring glaciers fed 
 Ran rippling o er its golden bed." 
 
 The Scene 
 
 An Autumn night, aurorae bright 
 Illumining the northern sky, 
 The Yukon swiftly sweeping by 
 Where lofty mountains rise in rank, 
 Frost-haloed thickets on each flank, 
 And friendly forests stretch before 
 Fringing the mighty river s shore. 
 Reflected from this sylvan screen 
 Of bough and branch, the glow and sheen 
 Of a camp-fire s ruddy flame is seen. 
 
 The fitful-gleaming shadows fall 
 Upon a man, broad, sinewy, tall, 
 One well within his median prime 
 But whom the silver touch of time 
 
 1*9] 
 
?HE AGE OF GOLD 
 
 Has penciled with no sparing hand; 
 Grouped about yet others stand, 
 Though none in vigor can compare 
 To him of the half-whited hair 
 Whom Nature marks, their leader there. 
 
 An humble repast has been spread 
 Beneath the canopying trees, 
 Whose tops, high arching overhead, 
 Sway gently in the evening s breeze. 
 Soon the simple meal is done 
 And, gath ring round the fire, each one 
 In turn discourses venturous deed, 
 Whilst incense sweet the wanderer s meed- 
 Wafts from solacing pipe and weed. 
 
 Companions these of many a trail, 
 Now from a bootless quest returning, 
 They urge Grey-beard recount the tale 
 Awhile the cheery blaze is burning, 
 How once he sought a wondrous mine 
 Beyond the Arctic Porcupine. 
 Each knew his charm, for true and well 
 
 [20] 
 
<fHE <fALE OF <?HE MIDAS MINE 
 
 A stirring story he could tell, 
 Listen, and learn what there befell. 
 
 <f he Story 
 
 His strange recital thus began 
 "We were there in search of the gold 
 Which the miser earth doth hold, 
 In gluttonous and greedy grasp, 
 With cold benumbing icy clasp, 
 Hidden with craft and cunning plan 
 Away from the sight of selfish man. 
 
 Through weary weeks of stubborn toil 
 With fire we fought the frozen soil, 
 Striving by finite force to know 
 Where ancient channels once did flow, 
 Leaving their tawny-gleaming hoard 
 In subterranean recess stored, 
 And glacial fastness, unexplored. 
 
 There we wrought the Summer through 
 Until the snows of Autumn came, 
 When, driven by need, at last we drew 
 [21} 
 
?HE AGE OF GOLD 
 
 Across the hills in search of game, 
 Heavy were the hearts we bore, 
 And meagre, was the golden store 
 Wrested from the river s floor. 
 
 Four days we sledged in northward jaunt 
 
 Through winding lanes of birch and spruce, 
 
 To reach at length the native haunt 
 
 Of musk ox, caribou, and moose. 
 
 There, mid frozen swamp-land bogs 
 
 We built a cabin-hut of logs, 
 
 A shelter rude, for men and dogs. 
 
 What hunter has not known the thrill 
 
 Of a noble quarry s chase, 
 
 To win our sustenance by kill 
 
 Is instinct to the human race. 
 
 We sought successfully to slay, 
 
 Success augmented day by day 
 
 As near or far, we found our prey. 
 
 Winter had spread upon the ground 
 
 Its pallid, drifting sheet 
 
 When, on a foray bent, we found 
 
 [22] 
 
<fHE 3ALE OF THE MIDAS MINE 
 
 The late imprint of human feet; 
 Following on to where it led, 
 Within a sheltering brushwood shed, 
 A man lay dying on its bed. 
 
 As bending close to where he lay 
 His longing gaze upon us fell, 
 In whisper hoarse we heard him say 
 He could to us a secret tell, 
 Should we by solemn oath declare 
 That, to a distant wife and child 
 In part the treasure we would bear, 
 Which, in that dread and wintry wild, 
 After hardship, toil and strife 
 He now had purchased with his life. 
 We gave the promise in assent, 
 And knelt to learn his strange portent 
 
 Before his feeble strength was spent. 
 
 * * * * 
 
 I shipped, he said, from Bedford town 
 As first mate of the Martha Mom, 
 And on the tasseled fields of corn 
 As we sailed out for the Southern Horn, 
 A summer s sun, in love looked down 
 
 [23] 
 
<fHE AGE OF GOLD 
 
 With never a passing cloud to frown 
 Upon the harvest s stubble brown. 
 
 The stormy Cape was in springtime mood 
 As we weathered its point and our course pursued 
 To the northern ocean, whose fettered plain 
 Gave richer promise of common gain. 
 Through Unimak s narrow cloud-cloaked lane 
 We threaded the dread Aleutian chain, 
 To follow the drift, to the Arctic main. 
 
 Two summers we cruised that fretful sea, 
 
 Hunting, for bone, the bow-head whale, 
 
 And ever escaped disaster-free 
 
 Until one Spring a furious gale 
 
 Drove us hard upon a floe, 
 
 When quick, to her reckoning below 
 
 The good ship Martha Morn did go. 
 
 Of all her crew but I escaped, 
 
 And to the west a course I shaped, 
 
 Thankful indeed to be afloat, 
 
 With a harpoon lance and a whaling boat. 
 
 Slender though the chance they gave, 
 
 [*] 
 
<fHE <f4LE OF <?HE MIDAS MINE 
 
 To Barrow s Point far o er the wave 
 I hoped to win, and cheat the grave. 
 
 Anon through rift of parting cloud 
 I saw the green-hued glacial wall, 
 Anon the lifted curtain showed 
 Cliff-buttressed mountain tall, 
 Yet ever from the north was flung 
 That misty mantle, in seeming hung 
 To hide the jutting reef and rock, 
 To screen the treacherous icy block, 
 And with its menace, hope to mock. 
 
 Long days and weeks with desperate might 
 
 I fought that grim, despairing fight, 
 
 My daily food the flesh of seal 
 
 Won with the ready harpoon s steel. 
 
 Then one day as I lay and slept, 
 
 Into the pack my boat was swept, 
 
 And, gaining a nearby summit s mound 
 
 I wept for joy, for there I found 
 
 The mainland shore, and the ice aground. 
 
<?HE AGE OF GOLD 
 
 Onward I struggled day by day 
 
 To that westward goal where succor lay, 
 
 Remembering little of all between 
 
 But that gnawing hunger, fierce and keen, 
 
 As I climbed the rugged mountain-side, 
 
 Was sapping fast life s vital tide, 
 
 And that once, in skirting a defile bold 
 
 To ford a torrent-rivulet cold, 
 
 Its bed shone bright with grains of gold. 
 
 That was years ago, but predestined lot 
 
 Drew me again to the cursed spot, 
 
 And with trusted friends I sought to find 
 
 That aural stream I had left behind. 
 
 Though in many a deep-indentured cove 
 
 We anchored the sloop and eager strove, 
 
 It ever escaped our search and quest; 
 
 Disheartened at last, they turned to the west, 
 
 And alone, I watched them sail away, 
 
 For I, had elected still to stay 
 
 On that lonely shore so grim and gray. 
 
 Once more I stood beside that sea, 
 Whose peril all was known to me, 
 
?HE 3 ALE OF <fHE MIDAS MINE 
 
 Once more I labored at the oar 
 
 Along that ice-embattled shore. 
 
 For weeks unceasingly I sought 
 
 But vain the search howe er I wrought, 
 
 My task each night was done for naught. 
 
 Then at last, as I rounded a frowning cape 
 The scene before took familiar shape 
 And soon I had come again to the place 
 Which fancy ever had loved to trace. 
 Beaching the boat at the broad moraine 
 I ascended the rocky channeled drain, 
 To behold the precious sands again. 
 
 I had killed a seal beside the shore 
 And, filling the skin with a golden store, 
 I hoisted the sheet to voyage back 
 While yet I could skirt the drifting pack, 
 For a week I held along the course 
 Ere shoreward it came with resistless force, 
 And, driven for safety to the land, 
 Encamped in a village near at hand, 
 I found a native tribal band. 
 
 [27} 
 
<fHE AGE OF GOLD 
 
 As winter came with its night and snow 
 I joined with the wandering Eskimo 
 To journey south to the valley here 
 Where they hunt the timid Northland deer. 
 A lack of woodcraft has been to my cost 
 For, roaming afar and hopelessly lost 
 I crept here, to die in the deadly frost. 
 
 At the native Igloo lies the leathern skin, 
 My hard-won gold lies buried therein, 
 With this rude chart to follow by, 
 Pass a high peak which marks the sky 
 And enter the defile close beside, 
 Twill lead to a mine by the ice-bound tide 
 Where riches untold, do thy coming abide. 
 
 Away to the north o er the crisping snow 
 The dying stranger bade us go 
 To where a mighty glacier lay 
 Fronting a land-locked ocean bay. 
 Its water course we must ascend, 
 Where, near unto its upper end, 
 Broad bedded in the shallow stream, 
 
 [28} 
 
<?HE ^ALE OF <fHE MIDAS MINE 
 
 O erflowing crevice crack and seam, 
 Lay boundless wealth ours to redeem. 
 
 Closer we drew as in hushed spell 
 His fait ring murmured accents fell, 
 And each, in eagerness attent 
 Nearer to that low couch bent. 
 Silently we heard the tale, 
 In silence saw his life-light fail 
 And death bedew his countenance pale. 
 
 Like one who listens, he paused and sighed 
 Ere he passed the bounds of life s divide; 
 Then, reverently and in breathless awe 
 We sought the enfolding robe to draw 
 About his corse in shrouding fold; 
 There, clasped within his stiffening hold 
 He held a nugget of virgin gold. 
 
 We had heard in doubt, now as we gazed 
 On the narrative s proof, we stood amazed 
 Till, surging sudden to our sense 
 Came the desire to hasten hence, 
 And, heedless of the unburied dead 
 
<fHE AGE OF GOLD 
 
 We rushed forth to the waiting sled, 
 Nor gave a thought of turning back 
 As we lashed the cringing wolf-dog pack 
 Swiftly forward along his track. 
 
 Quick coursing by the forest s edge, 
 
 Following fast the swaying sledge, 
 
 We sped along in frenzied haste, 
 
 To reach at length a sparse-grown waste, 
 
 By freezing Arctic storm winds fann d, 
 
 That desolate reach and barren band 
 
 Which girds the Continent s northmost land. 
 
 Throughout the dim light of that day 
 No living creature crossed our way, 
 Nor sound the slumbering stillness stirred, 
 Save that at even afar we heard, 
 Faint falling from the frosty sky 
 Or croaking raucously nearer by, 
 The raven s weird, ill-omened cry. 
 
 Around about dark lowering night, 
 Glooming in keen and frigid blight, 
 Spread over all the white expanse 
 
 is?] 
 
<fHE <fALE OF <fHE MIDAS MINE 
 
 Before we checked our swift advance, 
 Nor paused until then to prepare 
 The hunter s frugal, homely fare. 
 Soon a camp-fire s gleaming crest 
 Rose before a bough-made nest 
 And each, in furry robe, sought rest. 
 
 Long hours before a roseate dawn 
 
 The curtaining cowl of night had drawn 
 
 We breakfasted and were away, 
 
 Hoping before the close of day 
 
 To gain the pass which there before, 
 
 Close guarded by its sentinel hoar, 
 
 Led to that hidden Midas store. 
 
 A sullen silence seemed to brood 
 O er all the voiceless solitude; 
 The north hare held her snowy form, 
 The fox sought out its earthing warm, 
 The ravening wolf to shelter stayed 
 Deep within the willow glade 
 Nor dared to venture forth to find 
 Its prey among the lesser kind, 
 For, pitilessly that polar breath 
 
THE AGE OF GOLD 
 
 Swept southward o er the congealed earth, 
 And only man, would brave its death. 
 
 Again the sombre shadows throng 
 To blot the cheerless scene; 
 With laggard step we creep along, 
 With weary and dejected mien. 
 We made our halt, the fire soon lit, 
 Unlashed our robes and camping kit, 
 Cut shrub and brush and spread below 
 To fend our covering from the snow; 
 Thus made the bed that hunter s know. 
 
 The day was breaking as we left 
 Our camp, and entered the deep cleft 
 Whose drifted slopes to left and right 
 Stretched upward to the frowning height. 
 My two companions forged ahead 
 To break trail for the weighted sled, 
 While up their narrow snow-shoe road 
 The team came panting with the load 
 Urged on by me with lash and goad. 
 
<fHE fALE OF <?HE MIDAS MINE 
 
 Mid-day a half mile lay between 
 Though they could yet be plainly seen, 
 When from high up the mountain side 
 The field of snow began to slide; 
 With swift momentum reached the steep 
 And with one furious awful leap, 
 Entombed beneath its mighty mass 
 The men before me in the pass. 
 Appalled, I gazed; in dumb affright 
 I viewed that high-heaped tomb of white, 
 Then turned the team, and hid the sight. 
 
 Alone, alone, alone; if one above 
 There be who looketh down in love, 
 Who marketh e en the sparrow s fall 
 And can direct the course of all, 
 Thy love displays this hour a mood 
 As would distrust engendered good. 
 Faith falters of Thine infinite care; 
 In mine own strength lies hope to fare, 
 Hence to that lowly cabin there. 
 
 That night I slept within the rest 
 From whence at morning we had prest, 
 
 [33] 
 
<?HE AGE OF GOLD 
 
 And backward o er the dim-lit waste 
 Ere dawn of day I sped in haste. 
 What Crusoe learned upon his isle 
 Came home to me each weary mile ; 
 My dogs made company ; dumb friends 
 Such solace to affliction lends, 
 That unto them I spake my thought 
 As down the drifting track we fought. 
 My Captain dog so fleet and true, 
 No nobler beast e er breathed than you, 
 By right of worth, you lead the crew. 
 
 Turk, Buster, Ben, faithful and strong 
 And tireless though the trail be long, 
 Sturdy old Warrior, Socks, your mate, 
 Whose courage makes his might as great, 
 Though sired by rangers fierce and free 
 Your mothers whelped their broods to be 
 Of service in my hour of plight, 
 To save from death a hapless wight, 
 Entrapped in this dread barren s blight. 
 
 Thus meditating, half in shame 
 At past unkindnesses, I came 
 
 [34} 
 
fHE 3 ALE OF VHE MIDAS MINE 
 
 Again at dusk within the wood 
 
 By which our first encampment stood. 
 
 Pausing, I heard from back the trail 
 
 A sound once more a wolfish wail 
 
 Answered in chorus now more near, 
 
 Quickly I loosed the harness clear 
 
 That, in the near approaching strife, 
 
 Each brute might make his fight for life. 
 
 Too well I knew that lean horde s way, 
 
 Their rush, their rage, their fangs keen play; 
 
 The North s gaunt cruel demons, they. 
 
 The shadows thicken thro the glades, 
 Dark stealthy forms move mid the shades, 
 My dogs stand bristling in the fore 
 Growling defiance at two score 
 Of their wild enemies, whose cry, 
 As now they circle closer by, 
 Invites to onset, and to die. 
 
 My rifle spake, a wounded brute 
 Sprang forward, and in near pursuit 
 His fellows close still closer round, 
 Though oft my aim its victim found 
 
 [35} 
 
THE AGE OF GOLD 
 
 Ere they in furious raging might 
 
 Came to engage the dogs in fight. 
 
 The leaden messengers sped fast 
 
 And, when the conflict s height had passed, 
 
 When I had stemmed the fierce attack, 
 
 Refilled my rifle and forced them back, 
 
 I came to learn the havoc done; 
 
 But one survived my favored one 
 
 Borne down by numbers, yet at bay 
 
 Where he had met their fanged array, 
 
 The noble Captain wounded lay. 
 
 With nerveless touch I sought to quench 
 His gory wounds fast flowing drench 
 And ministered with trembling hand 
 The crude surgery at my command. 
 Then lifting him up I bore him back 
 To where I had left the sled and pack, 
 To kindle a blaze and soon prepare 
 The fleshy viands of our fare. 
 All through the night the prowlers ire 
 Would rouse me up to feed the fire 
 And watch, lest its bright flame expire. 
 
 [36] 
 
<fHE <fALE OF <fHE MIDAS MINE 
 
 At length the breaking light of day 
 Disclosed the scene of bloody fray, 
 Then, with disheartened creeping pace, 
 I turned, reluctant, to retrace 
 My way to that far distant door 
 Beyond the barren s wind-swept floor. 
 My wounded dog I needs must bind 
 Upon the sledge and drag behind, 
 For he, my friend in time of need 
 I felt deserved such kindly deed, 
 And if, at length through days of pain 
 I won across that frosty plain, 
 One loyal friend, should share my gain. 
 
 How I yearned then those of manly worth 
 Who were left behind in that cleft of earth, 
 For night brought dark foreboding s brood, 
 Soon there would be a dearth of food, 
 And Death s numb lethargy would steal 
 When lack of food my fate could seal. 
 Though all my hunter-craft was plied, 
 In vain I scoured the moorland wide, 
 In vain its every art was tried. 
 
 [37} 
 
<fHE AGE OF GOLD 
 
 How I staggered on with feeble strength 
 
 To find that cabin door at length, 
 
 I ne er shall know; an age it seems 
 
 I groped through weird phantastic dreams. 
 
 Processions strange stalked through my mind, 
 
 For oft the dead comrades left behind, 
 
 With the stranger from his pallet low, 
 
 Hovered where e er I turned to go, 
 
 Or lurked at night with cautious stealth 
 
 To filch my dream-amassed wealth. 
 
 There in the cabin, my dog and I 
 Dwelt till the winter passed us by, 
 Then in the Spring one day we passed 
 Southward over the hills at last 
 To where the Porcupine s current free 
 Bore us on toward the Behring Sea. 
 At the Yukon s side we met the throng 
 Who sang of the Klondyke s siren-song; 
 And here we wait but the time is long." 
 
 [3*1 
 
<fHE <?ALE OF <fHE MIDAS MINE 
 
 The tale is told, each listener goes 
 To seek a welcome night s repose; 
 The dying flames expiring shed 
 A softened glow and halo red 
 Upon the forms recumbent round, 
 Faint far and sweet, each nature-sound 
 With slumbrous melodies abound; 
 The white owl s cadent, plaintive note 
 Sounds soft and low in copse remote ; 
 From the river s distant moon-lit shore 
 The lone loon s voice comes trembling o er; 
 South passaging wild fowl clamorous fly, 
 A wolf gives long drawn, mournful cry, 
 The young moon sinks behind the hill, 
 The embers die then all, is still. 
 
 [39} 
 
SONGS OF THE ELDORADO 
 
 Dramatis Personse, Argonauts 
 Scene, Camp Fire; Place, Pelly Lakes 
 
 What rhymester, ho, 
 
 Attune thy harp, 
 
 Let melody o erflow, 
 
 Display thy skill in rhythmic trill, 
 
 And once begun the gamut run 
 
 Through flat and sharp, 
 
 Nor need to fear among those here 
 
 A critic s carp 
 
 In censurous ruth" ; thus heard the youth 
 
 To whom addressed; 
 
 To drive away with simple lay 
 
 Their souls unrest, 
 
 He sang forsooth a song of truth 
 
 And gave his best; 
 
 A ballad old, one oft retold 
 
 To maiden prest 
 
 In raptured thrill and mutual will 
 
 To lover s breast, twas thus expressed: 
 
ODE TO THE KING 
 
 Pay thou thy tribute feal to Love, the King, 
 Whose minions fan the passioned heart aglow 
 And bid us quaff existence from that spring 
 Whence gushing forth, the soul s deep currents flow. 
 
 In glorious golden sunshine from above, 
 With every clinging atom neath the sun, 
 Affinity proclaims the reign of Love 
 Existent ere our mortal round begun. 
 
 Obedient to great Nature s high behest, 
 Primeval man s first instinct was to mate, 
 And all the peopled earth doth now attest 
 How near that sacred law fits his estate. 
 
 Then live thy day to Life s in tenser swing, 
 Scorn not Emotion s quickened pulse and thrill, 
 Unselfish tribute ever pay to Love, the King, 
 
 Till death at last thy beating heart shall still. 
 
 * * * * 
 
 All give acclaim, one asks him name 
 An he could mention, 
 
<fHE AGE OF GOLD 
 
 Maids who d believed to be deceived 
 
 By his intention. 
 
 The jest he heard but gave word 
 
 Of his displeasure, 
 
 When Grey-beard spoke, "But fools do joke 
 
 To such a measure. 
 Of loftiest blend, my youthful friend, 
 Twas well conceived, 
 And shows thy leisure 
 To be but spent with right intent 
 To garner treasure. 
 It is our joy to such employ 
 Thy talents tend, 
 All here were grieved, be it believed, 
 
 To hear its end. 
 We would, my boy, of such alloy 
 Have yet another, 
 And homage rend ; let all attend 
 Our minstrel brother." 
 He told of dream, of fond esteem 
 By all partaken 
 Of mother- word when mem ry stirred 
 
 Hearts to awaken. 
 
I DREAMED A DREAM 
 
 I dreamed a dream in Sleepyland 
 Of a time in the long ago, 
 When I knew a Mother s loving hand 
 As she rocked me to and fro. 
 
 Again I felt her fondly press 
 My childish form close to her heart, 
 And the soft touch of her lips caress 
 Bade the tears of Dreamland start. 
 
 I heard once more the lullaby 
 As she soothed my troubled rest, 
 I heard her sad and gentle sigh 
 As I nestled to her breast. 
 
 Softly and low, came once again 
 The age-old and harmonious strain 
 Of that nurture-melody of men, 
 Our childhood s first divine refrain. 
 
 [43} 
 
<?HE AGE OF GOLD 
 
 Song 
 
 "Hush, my precious, Mother holds thee, 
 Evil cannot reach thee here, 
 Slumber sweet one, she enfolds thee, 
 Naught can harm while she is near. 
 
 Mother s care will ever yield thee 
 Safe protection through the night, 
 Mother s love will ever shield thee, 
 Ever guide thee toward the right. 
 
 Rest, my child, thine eyelids cumber, 
 All my love and life is thine, 
 Rest my babe, in peaceful slumber 
 While thy Mother s arms entwine." 
 
 Happier, golden other days 
 Ere worldly lesson we were taught, 
 Life seemed then a hymn of praise 
 Each hour with a pleasure fraught. 
 
 [44] 
 
/ DREAMED A DREAM 
 
 Time can ne er efface nor sever 
 Treasured memories which lie 
 Near the place of Sleepland, ever 
 Sounding Childhood s lullaby. 
 
 * * * * 
 
 All quiet was the company 
 
 When he had done; 
 
 Twas well approved, for near removed 
 
 As if in revery, 
 
 Stood more than one 
 
 Who sought to hide from gaze aside 
 
 And there shed furtively, 
 
 The tears it won. 
 
 At length spake he to whom age gave priority, 
 " Tis true my son, 
 And he who hears it not 
 In youth s first hour 
 Nor learns its dear precept 
 Within Affection s bower, 
 Knows lonelier, sadder lot 
 Than he who there has slept and blossoming has kept, 
 
 Life s garden spot. 
 
 [45} 
 
<?HE AGE OF GOLD 
 
 How e er Age dull the ear that melody rings clear, 
 Its music Memory quickens, as round us trouble 
 
 thickens, 
 And he has ne er forgot, though sorrows fain would 
 
 blot 
 
 That song, to childhood dear." 
 Thus glides along with feast of song, 
 
 The night s rehearsal, 
 Their plaudits rang when next he sang 
 
 Of Wrong s reversal. 
 
 [46} 
 
THE LAY OF THE HANGMAN 
 
 Hark to the plaint a hangman sang 
 
 As he went his fellow man to hang, 
 
 As he passed the fresh grave yawning nigh 
 
 And mounted the steps to the scaffold high. 
 
 "This retribution does custom ordain, 
 Vengeance is Mine, runs the old refrain, 
 A life for a life must right the wrong 
 And sate the souls of a morbid throng. 
 
 . . V . ; . 
 
 To erring humanity, pity is dead, 
 Hate and hypocrisy here are wed, 
 Here Justice sanctions a cruel deed 
 In the plea of conserving social need. 
 
 Who gives the right to the many to slay 
 Which if one may do he shall forfeit pay 4 ? 
 Ah, tis cheaper to hang than imprison removed, 
 And thus is the shameful deed approved. 
 
 But is murder more murder when done by stealth 
 Than when done by the jackals of Commonwealth; 
 
 [47} 
 
<?HE AGE OF GOLD 
 
 Has the Law done aught to cleanse the stain 
 When dust unto dust has returned again? 
 
 The weak fall prey unto the strong, 
 Perverted from Right they stray to Wrong, 
 Nor stretches a friendly hand to save 
 Ere doomsday dawns at the gallows-grave. 
 
 Of a morbid malice springs the lust 
 For life of one who betrays his trust, 
 And destroying life they do but feed 
 A demon of vengeful Passion s breed. 
 
 Will time ne er come when man must know 
 That deeds like this will future show 
 To mortal minds a savage crime 
 Born of a dark and savage time? 
 
 Too long has this fell phantasmal blight, 
 This creed that two wrongs will make one right, 
 This brute-survival of darker age, 
 Sullied a world s enlightened page. 
 
<?HE LAT OF <?HE HANGMAN 
 
 Hate and Revenge, not social need, 
 These are the motives base which speed 
 Misguided mortality to the noose 
 To cheapen life with a gross abuse." 
 
 This was the plaint the hangman sang, 
 As he went his fellow man to hang, 
 His creature-kind, who slew a friend 
 And thus came there to untimely end. 
 
 Soliloquy 
 
 Let him invoke, who dares, 
 The fickle mob s rebuff, 
 The shackle Custom wears 
 Galls yet not enough. 
 
 Untold centuries has mankind 
 Worn this brutal fetter, 
 Tradition pictures Justice blind; 
 Grows she yet the better? 
 
 Has our vaunted learning brought 
 Creed of peace sublime, 
 
 [49} 
 
<?HE AGE OF GOLD 
 
 Has wisdom of all ages taught 
 What leads men to crime? 
 
 Hear the pious Christian chant 
 Of Mercy, Love and Charity; 
 How act they who sound its cant ; 
 Deeds show a disparity. 
 
 "May ours be the nobler action 
 To bequeath the coming race 
 With this kindly benefaction: 
 Not to know a hangman s face." 
 
 Note 
 
 On January 20, 1903, two men were executed in the prison 
 yard at Dawson, Y. Ty., in the presence of two hundred and 
 fifty invited guests. Both of these men were present at Dawson 
 less than a twelvemonth before at the time of the execution of 
 another murderer, the circumstances of the crimes in both cases 
 being analagous. 
 
 In the conviction that capital punishment does not deter 
 crime, I have endeavored to voice, in the "Lay of the Hang 
 man and his "Soliloquy" something of the underlying motive 
 which I believe sends human beings to the gallows. 
 
 Author. 
 
 [50] 
 
<fHE LAX OF <?HE HANGMAN 
 Discussion 
 
 This legal sin, long, long has been 
 
 Law s dear reproof, 
 
 Whilst Custom strong protects the wrong, 
 
 Beneath her roof. 
 
 Who would decry or earnest try 
 
 To combat Error, 
 
 Will hear the shout of thoughtless lout 
 
 Whose mental mirror 
 
 Reflects a mind to reason blind; 
 
 Says the indifferent hearer: 
 
 "Why be alarmed, tis another s harmed, 
 
 The need s not vital, 
 
 Until the law our necks can draw 
 
 In such requital. 
 
 True lives were wrung and some have swung 
 
 Who knew no guilt, 
 
 But all must die; what need to cry 
 
 For milk that s spilt, 
 
 Or thus point out and seek to flout 
 
 With useless chatter, 
 
 The sacred right of Strength and Might; 
 
 So ends the matter." 
 
THE AGE OF GOLD 
 
 The songster sang anew 
 At their discussion s end, 
 And their attention drew 
 To this symphonic blend. 
 
 [52} 
 
WONDER SONG 
 
 I sometimes wonder why, 
 
 As time goes fleeting by, 
 
 We suffer Disappointment s pain, 
 
 Through lingering years toil on in vain 
 
 And failing, rise to hope again; 
 
 Hope does not die, 
 
 I wonder why. 
 
 I wonder sometimes where 
 Mid poignant pain and care, 
 The buoyant souls of womankind 
 Their wealth of love and wisdom find 
 The laurel wreaths they bring and bind, 
 And blossoms fair, where, 
 I wonder where. 
 
 Sometimes I wonder when, 
 
 In peace united, men 
 
 The seeds of fellowship will sow 
 
 Along the pathway each must go; 
 
 Joyous the flowers of Love will glow 
 
 In fields Fraternal then; 
 
 Ah when, I wonder when. 
 
 [53] 
 
<?HE AGE OF GOLD 
 
 Refrain 
 
 Human hearts to passion strung 
 Eternal songs of hope have sung, 
 Eternal must their forces play 
 Till human hearts to dust decay. 
 
 Again a silence at its close 
 As if perchance each hearer knows 
 Some soul-deep truth lies under, 
 As if responsive hearts had heard 
 An echo to its every word; 
 Unheeded oft midst storm and stress, 
 Timed to their pulsing eagerness, 
 Yet now they hear and wonder. 
 
 "Arouse the firelog, lads, the light 
 Will lend its cheer as I recite 
 To you a song I one time learned 
 When Fancy s mood in Autumn turned 
 To a secluded woodland dell 
 Wherein, belated song-birds tell 
 Of happier hours, when fields were green 
 And now are loth to leave the scene." 
 
 is*} 
 
SONG OF A FOREST BIRD IN AUTUMN 
 
 A WOOD-RAMBLER S FANCY 
 
 I strolled one day through forest aisle 
 When Autumn leaves were falling, 
 When chickadees, with artless guile 
 Their cheery chant were calling. 
 
 I saw the thrifty squirrel hoard 
 The beech nut in the hollow tree, 
 I found the bole wherein was stored 
 The summer s labor of the bee. 
 
 I lay among the drifted leaves 
 Deep in a shadowy thicket s gloom, 
 And learned there how the spider weaves 
 At faery, gossameric loom. 
 
 Then from an elm branch mid the wood 
 I spied a bird-nest s pendent bow, 
 Nearby a ruffled songster stood 
 As though distraught with woe. 
 
 [55] 
 
<?HE AGE OF GOLD 
 
 To fancy lulled, a chirping note, 
 Half dreaming, half awake, I heard, 
 Thus ran the lay of feathered throat 
 Autumnal song of forest bird. 
 
 SONG 
 Key C Minor 
 
 "Oh now must we go ere the winds of winter blow, 
 Ere the frost s cold breath grows cutting, sere and 
 
 keen, 
 Soon the boughs we used to know will lie buried in 
 
 snow, 
 
 Ah me ! they once were leafy, fair and green. 
 My fledglings have flown the home nest is lone, 
 All the earth seems drear and desolate and gray, 
 Ere a thistledown had blown ere an autumn leaf 
 
 had shown 
 They were eager to take wing and fly away. 
 
 "There were, flowers in the springtime and fields of 
 
 fragrant hay, 
 There were buttercups and daisies in the June, 
 
 [56] 
 
SONG OF A FORES? BIRD IN AUTUMN 
 
 And my mate at break of day sang each morn his 
 
 carol-lay, 
 
 Sang the songs of love, rehearsed at honeymoon, 
 Here we reared our nestling-brood, happy mid the 
 
 solitude, 
 
 Naught of grief e er came to break upon our rest, 
 But, alas, tis nature s way life is not alone of 
 
 May, 
 Chill November s frost has found an empty nest. 
 
 In Major Key 
 
 "Hark, an answering note I hear, tis my mate-bird 
 hov ring near, 
 
 He will come to me ere evening shadows fall, 
 
 Bid my heart to be of cheer, whisper, that another 
 year, 
 
 We shall nest once more upon the elm tree tall. 
 
 On the morrow s morn we ll fly, far to sunny south 
 ern sky, 
 
 There to warble forth idyllic life s refrain, 
 
 Peaceful Summer now is by, Autumn comes, and 
 with a sigh, 
 
 We must flit away, till Spring shall come again." 
 
 [57] 
 
<fHE AGE OF GOLD 
 Argument 
 
 Tis true of man, no less than these 
 Poor feathered creatures of the trees. 
 Youth hastens ever from the fold 
 Whose shelter safe from storm would hold. 
 As, in the evening of her days 
 She marks them go their several ways, 
 The mother-heart in longing cries 
 For those once held by tend rest ties. 
 They, too, were eager for the flight, 
 And now, when shadows of the night 
 Come stealing down the lane of life, 
 Weary and worn with care and strife, 
 She calls to mind the fairer Spring 
 When cradle songs she loved to sing 
 And budding hope bade hearts be gay 
 Sighs, are of Autumn, song, of May. 
 * * * * 
 
 "So ye would learn of men who swing 
 A miner s pick against the breast 
 Which hides the secret of their quest; 
 Learn of their ways, the hopes that spring 
 
SONG OF A FORES? BIRD IN AUTUMN 
 
 As forth the treasured gold they bring 
 From where twas held in Nature s chest. 
 
 "Is it but greed, to grasp, to hold; 
 What joys their task, and do they sing 
 Nor reck of that grim reaping Thing 
 Which garners Mankind to its fold^ " 
 In reverence was bowed each head, 
 He spake in tribute to the dead. 
 
 [59] 
 
THE PARTING 
 
 A MINER S REQUIEM 
 
 Gather around, ye comrade-friends 
 Who knew this form in life, 
 For thus, each earthly journey ends, 
 Thus Peace o ertaketh Strife. 
 
 Ye knew him well who sleepeth there, 
 To each, he was a brother, 
 And gave with generous hand, his share, 
 To help sustain another. 
 
 In nobler truth his loyal heart 
 
 To Honor gave devotion, 
 
 Nor deemed it less than Manhood s part 
 
 To yield that heart s emotion. 
 
 To fellow men in hour of need, 
 His roof-tree gave protection, 
 And every kindly thought and deed 
 Found purpose and direction. 
 
 [do] 
 
THE PARKING 
 
 This parting hour cements the bond 
 Life s fellowship attending, 
 For none may know, if bourne beyond 
 Or be this grave, the ending. 
 
 Sleep, Thou who were the salt of earth, 
 Too soon converge our ways, 
 And we who honor now thy worth, 
 Shall no more sound thy praise." 
 
ANTHEM 
 
 LAST HOPE 
 
 Pilgrim, thou journeyest soon o er the plain, 
 Brief is the hour of thy joy and thy pain, 
 Thou meetest at Morn whom Noontide shall part, 
 And alone, at the Even, must sorrow thy heart. 
 
 Eternal the hope whose abode is thy breast, 
 Its breath is thy prayer as thou turnest to rest, 
 And the Shore of the Shadow illumined shall be, 
 One star shineth ever, across the dark sea. 
 
 Refrain 
 
 Flower of a soul burdened with care, 
 Near to the Goal riseth thy prayer, 
 J Tis all thy part onward to guide, 
 Deep in the heart alway abide. 
 
 [62} 
 
SOLACE 
 
 Still Hope remains within the primal jar 
 Though other good gifts wing their way afar; 
 The noblest one clung to Pandora s urn, 
 Endowed in trust to womankind in turn 
 And sung of hearts whose simple lay to learn, 
 Made loyal love endure through all the years, 
 To smooth our path adown this vale of tears. 
 
 Oft comes the hour in every human life 
 When, weary or despondent of its ceaseless strife, 
 Man in endeavor seems the burrowing mole, 
 Of tangled threads the fabric of the whole, 
 And soul must seek its solace of a kindred soul, 
 Where hearth and home and all the sheltered throng, 
 Woo to forgetfulness with gladdening Hope s heart 
 song. 
 
 Life s tempest-troubled voyager finds there the friend 
 To cheer, encourage, comfort, and to lend 
 Affection s bright benign transfiguring light, 
 
<fHE AGE OF GOLD 
 
 A beacon-ray athwart its shadowy night 
 To guide him safe when darkness dims the sight. 
 Drear, drear the journey to that vague Beyond, 
 Uncheered by some dear haven s radiance fond. 
 
 Th J ambrosial nectared dew of childhood s kiss, 
 The place of joy serene and purest bliss, 
 Where prattling innocence and artless baby mirth 
 The heart refreshens, and bids us be its worth, 
 Gives of Elysian hour, all, all, of earth. 
 Who knows it not upon this mortal round 
 Escheated lives, and dying, longs the sound. 
 
 And though one once held close within the bower, 
 Whose presence made the song of evening hour, 
 Sleeps now beneath a grassy, dew-kissed mound 
 Where blossoms fair bend o er the hallowed ground, 
 Divinely tender echoing memories still resound, 
 Like sacred song through dim cathedral aisle; 
 And we are better for that life the while. 
 
 {64} 
 
SOLACE 
 
 Be then our day whate er of joy bereft, 
 
 Though from our side the treasured one be cleft, 
 
 Though Fate conspire to wrest all we hold dear, 
 
 The night will pass, the day fall fair and clear 
 
 If there but be one fellow creature near, 
 
 To sound the song, from heart of simple grace, 
 
 Of eld, in trust bequeathed, to women of the race. 
 
 [65} 
 
THE WRECK OF THE ISLANDER 
 
 The harbor lights in twinkling sport 
 
 Dance gaily on each wavelet s crest, 
 
 As the staunch ship Islander leaves port, 
 
 Beneath the mountain s lea 
 
 Which nevermore will see 
 
 The ripples from her breast. 
 
 Mirth and Music, Youth and Song, 
 
 Assemble in her social hall, 
 
 For Hope has promised that ere long 
 
 Each one again will stand 
 
 On that dear native strand 
 
 From which their loved ones call. 
 
 Long separate, to toil enured, 
 They braved the Northern night, 
 And from the womb of earth secured 
 Treasure they had sought, 
 To turn in home-land thought 
 Where welcome would delight. 
 
 [66] 
 
<fHE WRECK OF ^HE ISLANDER 
 
 Straight on her charted course 
 
 She skims the narrow strait, 
 
 As by her engines pressured force, 
 
 Propelling swift ahead, 
 
 On through the dark she sped 
 
 For the channel s southern gate. 
 
 Dank fogs descend, an icy breath 
 Enwraps the inland sound, 
 To shelter in its shadow Death, 
 For glacial offspring lay 
 Thick-strewn about the bay, 
 And ragged reefs abound. 
 
 The far-spent night in slumber holds 
 
 The gallant and the fair, 
 
 More dense seem now the vapor-folds 
 
 Beyond the vessel s prow, 
 
 Yet onward still they plow, 
 
 Nor marked Death biding there. 
 
 A crash an awful moment s lull, 
 And, starting from their midnight sleep 
 
THE AGE OF GOLD 
 
 They seethe about the settling hull 
 In terror and despair, 
 Confusion s panic everywhere, 
 The black mist s pall across the deep. 
 
 An hundred souls their slumber keep, 
 An hundred noble hearts found rest; 
 On distant strands there watch and weep 
 Expectant ones, that ne er will see 
 The Islander, in the harbor lea, 
 Nor the ripples from her breast. 
 
 [68} 
 
AURORA COMES 
 
 Latitude 65 North. Spectator, a Miner. 
 
 Time : Night. 
 Above 
 
 Mark now yon rising glow, like moonbeam pale, 
 Unfolding from the zenith s northward height; 
 Sweeping in queenly splendor thro the vale 
 Come marshalled minions from the realm of light. 
 
 Forth from the vast abyss unkenned of man, 
 Their mystic motion mounts the mazy slope, 
 Glimpsing alembic alchemy of Nature s plan 
 To awe our finite sense of cosmic scope. 
 
 Below 
 
 . s 
 
 Vain foolish mortals creep from hill to hill, 
 Ant-like Ambition bids them plan and ply 
 From golden granary to store a larder-till, 
 As yawns the deep-digged grave wherein they lie. 
 
 "Must mean employ thus round this span of life, 
 Tired children hastening to a mould ring bed, 
 Why waste thy precious hour in gainful strife, 
 Forgotten myriads of thy kind, rest with the dead." 
 
 {69} 
 
<fHE AGE OF GOLD 
 Pageant 
 
 Heralds a tremulous blush, the Northern light, 
 In mantling, faint, swift-mounting upward flight; 
 As o er the starry meadow glides the beam 
 High heaven s hollows pulsate with its gleam; 
 Lambent and waving draperies band the upper night, 
 Dim, ray-evolving shapes grow spectral bright, 
 Through lofty regions glowing banners stream, 
 In luminous arch the blended colors teem, 
 Splendors dissolve into ethereal space 
 And shining legions speed to fill their place, 
 Weaving fantastic garlands high in air 
 As forth and back the restless currents fare. 
 
 Now lost beneath the horizon s obscuring plane, 
 Commingling now with others of the train, 
 Forming, reforming, elusive, changeful ever, 
 Shifting in bright and beauteous endeavor, 
 Across the vaulted, starlit void it goes, 
 Nor dwells a single moment in repose, 
 Until at length, as wearied of the rout, 
 The glow and glory is diffused about 
 
 [70] 
 
AURORA COMES 
 
 To fade, in pale refulgence, to the Northern sky, 
 As far the iridescent phantom-creatures fly 
 Who pay attendant homage on that scene, 
 Where flits the fair Aurora Northland Queen. 
 
 And now, their entertainment done, 
 All hie to rest, till rising sun, 
 In gilded glint and ruffled wake, 
 Touches the bosom of the lake ; 
 Till daybreak s gentle breezes clasp 
 The palpitating quaken-asp, 
 And carol-chants awake a world 
 Which night in silent shadow furl d. 
 
JOURNEYING 
 
 Hour and Place 
 
 Declines the day, and once again the west 
 
 In purpling panoply of cloud, deep crimson drest, 
 
 Blends with its dying glory, high horizon line 
 
 In profile of bold mountain scarp, and the dark pine. 
 
 Where swift sibilant eddies of the river lave 
 A pebbly beach and bank, where tall forest gave 
 Back to the stream its tinted outline in the light, 
 Again our voyagers have paused for night. 
 
 Freed from their craft s confine, ease-postured each, 
 Outstretched they lie, their couch the mossy green, 
 Save comrade-three, who from the nearby reach, 
 In raptured contemplation, view the scene. 
 
 Whom of mankind, nor once again has heard 
 That loud primeval nature-cry within his breast, 
 Which some untrod and virgin wilderness has stirred 
 To ancient heritage of longing and unrest. 
 
JQUKffBTING 
 
 Far from the social trammel of convention s 
 
 screed, 
 
 Far from the sodden course of urban strife, 
 The souls of men return, like bondsmen freed, 
 To joy in first unfettered ways of life. 
 
 Boundless the sea Ambition s prow would cleave, 
 Before, an Empire s hoarded wealth awaits the hand 
 That in its strength the savage wilds may reave, 
 And richly recompense their Argonautic band. 
 
 Soon o er the verdured vale deep shadows fall, 
 The forest s image now has sunk from sight, 
 And from the fire log friendly voices call 
 The three, to join the circle by its light. 
 
 Now as they list, a theme of love unfolds 
 Which centuried Summer s eve heard oft repeat, 
 As youth s enfolding clasp to its mood moulds 
 A maiden heart, mid ecstasies complete. 
 
 [73] 
 
Song 
 
 HEARTSEASE 
 
 Heart of my heart, my star-eyed lass 
 
 Dear maid, 
 Love came and bade us love confess, 
 
 All unafraid. 
 
 Thine was the trusting soul I sought 
 
 Afar and wide, 
 Predestined fate at last has brought 
 
 Me to thy side. 
 
 To touch thy lip, to clasp thy form, 
 
 Were bliss sublime, 
 Mine arms shall shelter thee from storm 
 
 For all life s time. 
 
 Come thou to claim protection there 
 
 Whate er befall, 
 Twill bring forgetfulness from care 
 
 Which troubleth all. 
 
 [74} 
 
HEARTSEASE 
 
 Be fortune kind or be our state 
 
 The humbler poor, 
 Love s rose shall blossom by our gate, 
 
 And aye endure. 
 
 Soul of my soul, my queenly lass, 
 
 Dear maid, 
 Cling alway close in tenderness, 
 
 And unafraid. 
 
 Laudation sped its echo and again he gave 
 Of re very 5 s solicitude for absent wife, 
 Nor knew they she returned but to the grave, 
 Whose sombre depth hid all his joy in life. 
 
 {75} 
 
Song 
 
 THE SILENT HOUSE 
 
 The toiler turns from round of cares 
 
 At evening hour, 
 And to the shrine of love repairs; 
 
 His cottage bower. 
 
 But solitude has claimed the place 
 
 Of joy and peace, 
 He greets no radiant, love-lit face 
 
 Of heart s surcease. 
 
 No voice of tend rest resonance 
 Bespeaks his name, 
 
 Nor lips in loving consonance 
 Endearments frame. 
 
 A brooding quietude pervades 
 
 Each silent room, 
 As sunset s glow to shadow fades 
 
 And twilight gloom. 
 
 [76} 
 
<fHE SI LENT HOUSE 
 
 The soulful harpsichord stands mute 
 Whose memories tell, 
 
 Melodious theme of harp and lute, 
 And raptured spell. 
 
 The cluster d petals she arrayed 
 
 Within their urn, 
 Now in repinement droop and fade 
 
 For her return. 
 
 "Ye morrows, hasten on thy way, 
 
 My soul hath fear 
 Some ill may aye prolong her stay, 
 
 Would she were here." 
 
 "Good friends," the speaker sat apart, 
 That he might there aloof, 
 Be not discerned, for tears did start 
 And pathos of the song gave proof. 
 
 [77] 
 
<?HE AGE OF GOLD 
 
 "An hour in bygone time I mind, 
 When to my father s door there came 
 A beggar, bent and aged and blind, 
 And wasted was his form, and lame. 
 
 Tis such as he whose suppliant cry 
 You each have heard mayhap have spurned, 
 But I, since then, have ne er passed by, 
 Forbearance from his life, I learned." 
 
THE VAGABOND 
 
 Prologue 
 
 Good friend, and critic too, who would the moral 
 
 ask, 
 The tale is old, the theme no merit and a thankless 
 
 task, 
 Were chronicler presumptuous of such boon mere to 
 
 relate 
 An outcast s sordid lot, his vagrant course, his fate. 
 
 Tis but one hapless fellow creature broken on the 
 
 wheel, 
 An ill-starred starveling wretch ground neath the 
 
 social heel, 
 Who, in his misery, turned at length to forage on 
 
 the mass 
 Whose greed for place and power reduced him to the 
 
 pass. 
 
 [79] 
 
<?HE AGE OF GOLD 
 
 Shunned by the hurrying crowd, despised, bereft and 
 
 lone, 
 
 In lieu of bread he asked, life gave to him, a stone, 
 Nor how he fell, nor all the cause, his weakness or his 
 
 need, 
 Conspired what social force, what laws, few passing 
 
 note or heed. 
 
 "On, on with pride s parade, removed in cold aloof 
 ness far, 
 
 Dinning the senseless rabble-shout, drag on the Jug- 
 gernautic car 
 
 Whose mangling course, careening down the line, 
 
 Crushes the drugged devotee who worships at its 
 shrine." 
 
 theme 
 
 A knock sounds at the farmhouse door 
 As night shades veil the moor; 
 Aged the man who stands before, 
 Asking the shelter of the poor. 
 
 [So] 
 
<fHE VAGABOND 
 
 The housewife hastes to lift the latch 
 And bids the stranger enter there, 
 Invites him rest beneath their thatch, 
 And of their provender to share. 
 
 "What dost thou here," his host began 
 When their repast was o er, 
 "What fate compels thee beg, good man, 
 When thou art past three score." 
 
 A sigh, in seeming from the soul, 
 Came, ere to them he did unfold 
 His story, nor paused ere the whole 
 Of his sad history had told. 
 
 "An hour agone I craved a crust, 
 Craved shelter for the night, 
 My need was great, and hunger must 
 Th unbidden guest invite. 
 
 Some men there be whose course is run 
 To measured pulse and play, 
 Yet others, ere the goal be won 
 Grow wearied of its way. 
 
<fHE AGE OF GOLD 
 
 In youth I dwelt mid luxuried ease 
 In wealth s attire arrayed, 
 Nor knew want s breath or bitter breeze, 
 As pleasured paths I strayed. 
 
 Fair was the world and filled with song, 
 Friends came from far and near, 
 And gay and happy was the throng, 
 That gathered round my cheer. 
 
 But brief the season of that state 
 For, as adversity drew round, 
 My one-time friends forsook the gate, 
 That they, in opulence, had found. 
 
 The thoroughfare where once I met 
 Extended hands in greeting, 
 Held now no welcome, but regret 
 That chance had caused the meeting. 
 
 Sadly I roamed the city s streets, 
 To find in labor s mart 
 The menial task that soon escheats 
 Life s joy, to penured part. 
 
 [82} 
 
THE VAGABOND 
 
 Mine was the lot of millions more 
 Whose labor can but gain 
 A pittance, that a day before 
 Will scarce serve to sustain. 
 
 Unfitted by that earlier life 
 To battle, with success, 
 I was unequal to a strife 
 Waged with such earnestness. 
 
 Dwelling in a tall tenement, 
 Sickness soon brought despair, 
 And starving, thence away I went 
 To the great city s care. 
 
 Broken in spirit, health impaired, 
 Feeble and wan and spent, 
 I crept from charity, nor cared 
 Whither my steps were bent. 
 
 But that debasement left its mark, 
 For when the friendly sun had set, 
 Shamefacedly I sought the park 
 Where nightly vagabondage met. 
 
 [83} 
 
<?HE AGE OF GOLD 
 
 From this to crime was but a pace, 
 For many there told of the way, 
 The downward track few can retrace, 
 Who once seek social prey. 
 
 I learned twas easier far to find 
 Support from deeds of shame, 
 And soon my furtive fellowkind 
 Spake whisperingly my name. 
 
 A felon s dock then weary years 
 The walls of prison held me in, 
 And in the silent cell, my tears 
 Made their atonement for my sin. 
 
 Across the world a ten-years cloud 
 Hung like a dark abysmal night, 
 Ere freed at last I was allowed 
 To feel the felon s blight. 
 
 My prison life had left its stamp, 
 Deep seamed the lines of care, 
 I looked, I was, a nomad tramp 
 With early whited hair. 
 
fHE VAGABOND 
 
 Decrep t pre-ag d, a beggar s cot 
 Answered each night my need, 
 And morning took me from the spot 
 Where kindness cried God speed. 
 
 Thenceforward on I ceaseless strayed 
 To hear men s curses hurl d, 
 For tell-tale prison gait betrayed 
 My secret to the world. 
 
 But once, was one who loved me well, 
 A queen in woman s grace, 
 Nor yet to what far depth I fell 
 Was banished quite, her face. 
 
 When first I came to man s estate 
 She had worn my circlet-band, 
 And well I knew her grief was great, 
 That I, resigned her hand. 
 
 I knew not then, she nobly sought 
 To bid me near her stay, 
 And all her worldly wealth had brought, 
 But I had fled away. 
 
<fHE AGE OF GOLD 
 
 I thought it kindness, chivalry 
 Forbade me let her share 
 My changed estate s dull misery 
 And coarse and meanly fare. 
 
 Yet through the years that hopeless sped, 
 Oft to my thought she came, 
 To bow in bitter grief, my head, 
 And emphasize my shame. 
 
 I saw her once mid fashion s press, 
 A sweet child by her side, 
 In quest of alms I touched her dress; 
 Ah, could I then have died. 
 
 She knew me not, nor turned away 
 Ere granting my request, 
 The coin she gave till death will stay 
 Close-treasured at my breast. 
 
 I found her home, I lingered near, 
 And learned to love the child, 
 And in that presence fond and dear, 
 To fate, was reconciled. 
 196] 
 
<fHE VAGABOND 
 
 Oh, touch divine, a child s caress, 
 To yearning hearts thy want is pain, 
 Soul s plummet-sound of bitterness 
 Who cries for thee in vain. 
 
 Mistrusting they my good intent, 
 She roamed no more at play, 
 And soon in sadness, on I went 
 Along that weary way. 
 
 Restless, I ve wandered here and there, 
 And each succeeding year, 
 I hail, in hope twill bring me where 
 Peace bides upon the bier. 
 
 Good people, show me now the bed 
 Where I may win repose " 
 At morn the sleeper s soul had fled, 
 His faring found its close. 
 
 {87} 
 
LETTERS FROM HOME 
 
 Reverie 
 
 A miner sits at his cabin door 
 
 In the twilight of the day, 
 
 His thought of that hour but a year before 
 
 In a quiet village far away 
 
 When the maid he loved stood by his side 
 
 And his heart was glad, for, his promised bride, 
 
 She would linger there for aye and for aye. 
 
 Theirs was the old sweet story, told 
 
 In the tender and olden way, 
 
 They met and loved, would have and hold 
 
 And yield to love s own ardent sway, 
 
 To voyage down the stream of life 
 
 In hand together, man and wife, 
 
 To the shore of its Stygian bay. 
 
 [88] 
 
LEXERS FROM HOME 
 
 A pledge of their plighted faith she wears, 
 His token of troth and trust, 
 The guerdon of her love he bears, 
 Dearer far than the precious dust 
 Which his toil may win him there; 
 He dreams of the day when she will share 
 His well-earned wealth, and just. 
 
 Oft, oft in the time gone by since then 
 Has her sweet soft-murmured "Yes," 
 Brought fleeting hope to his heart again 
 When the gloom of the night would press, 
 And dark despair, there ever near 
 Found banishment in memory dear, 
 And the thoughts of her caress. 
 
 He came, not in quest of gold alone 
 Pelf was to him life s lesser part, 
 And love that lack would soon atone 
 In wealth of one fond heart, 
 But duty called, and so to win 
 Bounty and blessing for those of kin, 
 Had he sought the miner s mart. 
 
<fHE AGE OF GOLD 
 
 A letter falls from his listless hand 
 And flutters unto the ground; 
 Thus read the message he had scanned : 
 "Your former sweetheart now has found 
 Solacement for her loneliness, 
 Tomorrow in hymeneal dress, 
 
 She hears her nuptial chant resound." 
 * * * * 
 
 The mist of midnight creeps along 
 The mountain, and hangs o er the vale 
 Whose tinkling echoes tell the song 
 Of pack-trains, toiling up the trail ; 
 The tranquil beauty of the night 
 Recalls her face, with love alight, 
 Recounts, in minor chord, the tale. 
 
 [90] 
 
THE QUICKENING 
 
 Memory whispered in the gloaming, 
 
 "Nomad, cease thy roaming, 
 
 Turn unto thy homing; 
 
 Still thy warm heart quickens to the thought. 
 
 Need thou hast abated, 
 
 Thirst for gold hast sated, 
 
 Toil hath plenty mated; 
 Seek thou they for whom here thou hast wrought. 
 
 "Sweet the joys that first thou tasted 
 
 Ere on wayward way thou hasted 
 
 To a wanton world, and wasted, 
 
 Thy first hour of manhood, careless, free, 
 Twas thy lesson; learn another, 
 Afar waits thy sad-faced mother, 
 Kindred name an absent brother, 
 
 Thy ancestral hearthstone s voices call to thee. 
 
 [9 } 
 
<?HE AGE OF GOLD 
 
 "Long thy fortune thou hast ventured 
 Unto fickle chance indentured, 
 And tho oft thy mistress censured, 
 None, of thee hath heard complaining; 
 Go, thy heart turns yonder, 
 Time thy ties make fonder 
 Wheresoe er that thou dost wander, 
 Find again thy lov d ones, life is waning. 3 
 
 [92] 
 
VOICE OF PROMISE 
 
 "They will welcome where at parting, 
 Tear dimmed eyes saw thee depart, 
 Where, like fount of youth upstarting, 
 Welled affection from each heart. 
 
 "They will gather there to meet thee, 
 Father, mother, kindred, all, 
 They will come again to greet thee 
 From thy childhood s festal hall. 
 
 "They will list each one, nor weary, 
 Grow of thine adventured tale, 
 And attentive to thy query, 
 Of their simpler way, regale. 
 
 "Vanished years that hour has plighted, 
 For they spared with kindly hand, 
 Thee, as o er the earth benighted, 
 Strayed thy feet on foreign strand." 
 
 [93} 
 
AU REVOIR 
 
 I leave thee, comrades, for a time, 
 
 To journey there once more, 
 
 Where home-spun hearts with simple chime, 
 
 Bring back the days of yore. 
 
 Our pact of fellowship well tried 
 Has proved thee loyal friends, 
 Whose merit, that with honor vied, 
 For hardship made amends. 
 
 The Winter s frost, the Summer s sun, 
 But closer knit our ties, 
 As we together toiled and won 
 Beneath these Arctic skies. 
 
 Yet first in thought will ever be 
 That scene of curlier youth, 
 The kindly and parental tree 
 Which sheltered Love and Truth. 
 
 [94} 
 
AU RENOIR 
 
 Kind friends, adieu, and as we part 
 The tribute of my tears, 
 Must, from the fount of friendship start 
 In memory of these years. 
 
 Answer in Echo 
 
 "Comrade, we grieve to see thee go, 
 The parting hour gives pain, 
 And oft, when comes the night and snow, 
 We ll wish thee back again. 
 
 "The cabin circle gath ring round 
 Will miss thy friendly face, 
 And as the evening songs resound 
 We ll wish thee in thy place. 
 
 "But when again thy step shall turn 
 From thine far native land, 
 Thou It know staunch hearts, in welcome yearn 
 To clasp once more, thine hand." 
 
 [95] 
 
THE RETURN 
 
 Comes a stranger to the highway 
 Whom no neighbor seeming knows, 
 Questions none of path or byway 
 And they wonder where he goes. 
 
 Pilgrim he, but now returning 
 To the scene which first he knew, 
 Where his heart came ever yearning, 
 As through time its longing grew. 
 
 He has paused within the distance 
 For, re-echoing down the years, 
 Came a melody s soft insistence 
 To suffuse his sight with tears. 
 
 Stands awhile in indecision 
 Ere he strides along the way, 
 Straining with an eager vision 
 Where the half-hid steading lay. 
 
 [96] 
 
<?HE RETURN 
 
 Ah, it shows the home ancestral 
 Where he dwelt in youthful hour, 
 And again Life s hymn orchestral 
 Sounds with rhythmic sway and power. 
 
 Fragrant were the paths with flowers 
 When his childish feet there strayed, 
 Through the fields and woodland bowers 
 Where he with a brother played. 
 
 Long those halcyon days have vanished, 
 Time has changed the wanderer s face, 
 Twenty years he has been banished 
 From that boyhood s dwelling place. 
 
 Yet in dreams he oft would wander, 
 As he did in youth s first dawn, 
 Through the spacious farmhouse yonder 
 And adown the box-hedged lawn. 
 
 Now he comes again to waken 
 Recollection s quick ning train, 
 And remembrance dear has shaken 
 Vibrant reeds to tend rest pain. 
 
 [97] 
 
<?HE AGE OF GOLD 
 
 These were once paternal acres, 
 Alien hands now till the soil, 
 Then a kinfolk were the makers 
 Yon old mansion shows their toil. 
 
 Twas a forefather first planted 
 Tree and vine which round it stand, 
 His the patience that was granted 
 Plenty from the fruitful land. 
 
 There a vigorous household flourished, 
 Sturdy stock and line were they, 
 Men and women there were nourished 
 Fashioned from a generous clay. 
 
 Where are those, the sons and daughters, 
 Scions sprung from his proud race 
 Scattered o er the world of waters 
 Strive their children for a place. 
 
 Once that ancient shelter standing 
 There on gently rising slope, 
 Echoed to a merry banding, 
 Marriage feast and song of hope. 
 
THE RETURN 
 
 Now decays the fallen rafter, 
 Ruin soon will claim its own, 
 Now no more resounds the laughter, 
 Mirth and Joy have long since flown. 
 
 Those dear days and blest condition 
 Are no more within its walls, 
 And survives but old tradition, 
 Phantom-haunting musty halls. 
 
 Thence went sons to serve the nation 
 In their country s hour of dread, 
 One, to pour a life s libation 
 When at Fredericksburg he bled. 
 
 Reads his roster, "Killed in action 
 In the forefront of the slain;" 
 Freedmen know that benefaction 
 Was not given there in vain. 
 
 Long a mother mourned the lov d one, 
 He, her fondest hope and pride, 
 And her thought was of that dear son 
 Long years after when she died. 
 
 [99] 
 
AGE OF GOLD 
 
 Soldier heroes, thee we render 
 Thy exalted manhood s crown, 
 And thy deed s undying splendor 
 Shall posterity pass down. 
 
 Honored is thy glorious doing, 
 Strong of soul thou wert, and brave, 
 Noblest aim and course pursuing, 
 Thy name lives, despite the grave. 
 
 Turns the pilgrim to the churchyard 
 Where lie they whose name he bears, 
 Venerates each mounded earth-sward, 
 Peace, they rest from earthly cares. 
 
 Sad at heart, he goes, to ponder 
 Of existence , strange- writ page, 
 Bends his course again to wander 
 Life tis but a pilgrimage. 
 
VOYAGING 
 
 fke Rhyme of a Return Journey 
 
 PROLOGUE 
 
 You brother nomads of the North 
 
 Whom search for wealth impels to roam, 
 
 Far from the hallowed place of birth, 
 
 Far from the tendril ties of home, 
 
 I crave this boon, an idle moment s time : : : ; 
 
 To hearken to my vagrant voyage-rhyme. 
 
 For brothers all are we, of common kin, 
 
 Each going forth with hopes to win 
 
 In measure great or small, some precious part 
 
 Of that elusive, witchful thing 
 
 So few unto successful wooing bring; 
 
 Fair fickle wanton Fortune s aureate heart. 
 
 How quick the years have flown away, 
 The time seems but as yesterday, 
 Since to that toilsome trail we turned 
 Where glowing camp-fires nightly burned. 
 Still on that barrier s icy steep 
 
 [for] 
 
<fHE AGE OF GOLD 
 
 The comrades of our journey sleep; 
 Beneath those rough-heaped mounds of earth 
 They rest, whose trial proved their worth. 
 In yon enclosure moulders one 
 Earth s gentlest truest bravest son, 
 Who, wearying of rude Mammon s quest, 
 Turned from the path and sought his rest. 
 There ever Hope, her magic healing brought, 
 Unto the weary work-worn Argonaut, 
 There, btil beyond, the treasure of his dream 
 Lay glinting with its glamorous golden gleam. 
 
 But as water fowl in early spring, 
 By Nature s primal instinct, wing 
 Back to some dear welcoming lake 
 Whose gentle calm and sheltering brake 
 With subtle and mysterious power 
 Recalls to them Life s natal hour, 
 So too, where e er his journey wends, 
 His course at last the wanderer bends 
 To find again the happy shore 
 He left in days long gone before; 
 Greets there once more the loyal few 
 
 [102} 
 
V OT AGING 
 
 His early youth and boyhood knew; 
 Kindles afresh the hearthstone s flame 
 And joyous, hears his childhood name 
 Breathed in a mother s passioned sigh 
 In cadence of the years gone by. 
 
THE VOYAGE 
 
 "What ho, ye pilgrims northward bound," 
 The steamship s deep diapasons sound; 
 As "All Ashore" rings loud and clear 
 The vessel swings from the crowded pier 
 And, gliding across the harbor bright, 
 Speeds away from the watchers sight. 
 Her eager passengers press the rail 
 To catch the last faint-sounding hail, 
 While flutt ring signals strive to tell 
 To distant friends, the heart s farewell. 
 On board a merry throng was there, 
 Seekers for gold, returning where 
 Success had once its wonder wrought, 
 Nor reckoned they that dear twas bought; 
 Though few of they who made that band 
 Again would view their native land. 
 
 As swift to the throb of the pulsing screw 
 The clust ring hamlets hide from view, 
 A scene of beauty rare to find 
 In dim recession, fades behind, 
 
 1*04} 
 
<fHE V OT AGE 
 
 There, snow-clad, silent, silvery, stand 
 
 Sun-kissed Ranier Olympics grand, 
 
 Towering in cold impassive might, 
 
 Bathed in the day s fast waning light, 
 
 In hoary majesty arrayed 
 
 O erlooking field and forest glade, 
 
 Watching their image in the bay; 
 
 While, smiling back from its surface there, 
 
 Radiant in their promise fair, 
 
 The mirrored countenance of cities lay. 
 
 Dim vistaed reach of varied scroll, 
 Does that voyage to the sight unroll; 
 Headlands grow dim, strange ships pass by, 
 The fisher craft to their homing ply; 
 Along the sea-girt mountain s flank, 
 Stand stately fir in serried rank; 
 Scenes each that pleasured the sense anew 
 Were daily revealed as the voyage grew 
 Steadily on past isle and strand 
 To the gateway of that distant land 
 Where, battling on amid the cold 
 The miner delves for hidden gold. 
 
<THE AGE OF GOLD 
 
 Like a benison of peace and rest 
 
 The shades of darkness fall; 
 
 The sea birds seek the ocean s breast, 
 
 The mist-shroud covers all; 
 
 Then, to the half -expect ant ear, 
 
 Sound dangers ever leaguing near, 
 
 And pregnant fancy s fearsome crew 
 
 Thrusts unseen peril to the view; 
 
 Show the glacier s calf submerged, that waits 
 
 Where swift tides rush through narrowing straits, 
 
 While the surf bell s warning toll, 
 
 Bidding us beware the shoal, 
 
 The thick fog s muffling veil, 
 
 The whistling siren s mournful wail, 
 
 All speak, in accents fraught with fear, 
 
 Of dire disaster lurking there, 
 
 And wreck s beneath, whose story each well knew. 
 
 One night, as by the rail I stood 
 
 To mark the surge of the restless flood, 
 
 In the gleaming phosphorescence s glow, 
 
 From the wrack and spume in the vessel s wake, 
 
 Methought came a sound, as of lips that spake 
 
 [sod] 
 
<fHE VOX AGE 
 
 Of the countless souls that sleep 
 
 In the dismal dungeon-keep 
 
 Of that sepulchre below; 
 
 And the sound of the surf on a distant reef 
 
 As it rose and fell in its note of grief, 
 
 Was human, in its woe. 
 
 Old ocean, what of thy myriad dead, 
 
 The one-time wanderers o er thy main, 
 
 Who have found their rest upon thy bed, 
 
 Along the waste of thy shadowy plain; 
 
 Is thy salt but the tears that were shed for men 
 
 By women that ever will watch and weep 
 
 For the ones who have vanished from mortal ken, 
 
 For those that were given thy trust to keep; 
 
 Is thy lisping wave as it curls on the shore 
 
 But their souls sad sighing evermore, 
 
 Is thy gull s shrill cry but re-echoing pain 
 
 From them who have waited and watched in vain^ 
 
 Give me the message thou hast of their doom, 
 
 Depict me a scene from their prison gloom. 
 
<?HE AGE OF GOLD 
 
 The billowed tongues of a reef-bound shore, 
 The night wind s voice from the corded mast, 
 Murmur the tale from the annals of yore, 
 Tell softly of brave deeds done in the past. 
 Tell how seamen, whose hope was a buoying plank 
 Gave place to a fellow, and freely sank, 
 Sank down to where formless monsters creep, 
 Where the tribes of sea at their banquets keep, 
 And there, in the grewsome Kraken s wold 
 Dissolved in its all-embracing fold. 
 
 Tell of storm that raged and of tempest s breath 
 That encompassed round with its threat of death, 
 While far abeam flamed the beacon light 
 And the surf bell boom d through the dark ning 
 
 night. 
 
 Although strong and brave and true was each, 
 Their hour had come a wreck on the beach 
 Was all that remained to tell the tale 
 Of the ship that perished in the gale, 
 Wrap t about with its winding sheet 
 Of spindrift spray and snow and sleet. 
 
 * * * * 
 
 [ro8} 
 
fHE V OT AGE 
 
 With a fav ring tide the harbor side 
 
 At last is safely won, 
 
 And our noble ship lies at her slip 
 
 Peaceful in the sun. 
 
 The pilot s skilful hand 
 
 Guiding past shoal and sand, 
 
 Has brought us scatheless through, 
 
 Then to each other as we part, 
 
 We speak, each one with grateful heart, 
 
 Of our captain and his crew. 
 
 Be it thus with the storm- toss d human bark, 
 
 As it gropes its way in the unknown dark, 
 
 The star of its purpose ever before; 
 
 Amid currents that set to temptation s reef, 
 
 Onward through fogs of a blind belief, 
 
 To a port on an unknown shore. 
 
 And thou, Voyager, watch well thy ship, 
 
 To thy compass look, let the helm not slip 
 
 Lest, driven unguided before the blast, 
 
 Thy bark upon the shoals be cast. 
 
 [109} 
 
L ENVOI 
 
 It has seemed to me, as I sail life s sea 
 
 And meet its motley craft, 
 
 It will matter not when the end be got 
 
 Whether the winds be fair, that waft 
 
 The mariner across that sea 
 
 To his dreamless sleep for eternity, 
 
 Nor whether reef nor rock nor shoal 
 
 Shall lurk before the haven-goal, 
 
 If only the compass of Love he doth heed 
 
 If, strong and sure in his time of need 
 
 Shall sturdy Affection grasp the wheel 
 
 To guide the course of the furrowing keel 
 
 Which ploughs the field of the restless main 
 
 Where men fare forth in search of gain. 
 
 Then at last, from the bounds of that ocean- vale, 
 
 True friends will long for the well-lov d sail, 
 
 Fond hearts will hunger and yearn for the one 
 
 Who has passed from sight, whose hour is done. 
 
 [I TO] 
 
AT LAST 
 
 Homeward bound, astern the scene, 
 That once in eagerness we sought; 
 The weary years lie all between, 
 The golden sands we strove to glean, 
 Fate niched, the while we wrought. 
 
 Homeward bound, who waits us there 
 Of those we grieved to leave behind, 
 To anxious vigil, days of care 
 And tidings scant of they who fare 
 To delve, where gold is mined. 
 
 Homeward bound, now in review 
 Familiar landscape faces show; 
 The glade which once our camp-fire knew, 
 The beetling crag past which we drew 
 To Eldorado-land below. 
 
 Homeward bound, what visions throng, 
 
 What memories crowd apace, 
 
 As mid the scenes we surge along 
 
<fHE AGE OF GOLD 
 
 Which knew our hopeful voyage song, 
 As sped that Northward race. 
 
 Homeward bound, we breast the stream 
 Whose current bore us to the goal; 
 A troublous phantasy, a dream 
 These years of disappointment seem, 
 And wounds they gave have seared the soul. 
 
THE LESSON OF THE YEARS 
 
 Ye who will voyage from that place 
 Where love and trust and friendship are, 
 Who, to some spot remote, shall trace 
 Fair Fortune s form, of fickle grace, 
 Beware the quest will leave its scar. 
 
 Finis 
 
Author s Note 
 
 The following critical appreciation of this work 
 was received some four years ere the manuscript 
 ventured to approach a publisher. It sounds the 
 depth to which destructive pessimism will sink in 
 venting the venom of its individual opinion. 
 
 The sad mission of such misanthropy is to rend 
 the viscera of authorship and revel in the offal. To 
 true criticism of art and letters it bears the relation 
 ship of an abattoir-butcher to the office of skilled 
 and humanitarian surgery. 
 
 "The author of this collection knows nothing what 
 ever of the laws of metre, or of the laws of rhythm ; nor 
 has he an ear to guide him when knowledge fails. He 
 introduces and omits feet not in violation of law only, 
 but in violation of sound. His combinations of rhythms 
 are often utterly unpermissible, both according to the 
 canons of prosody and according to the instincts of the 
 musical ear. 
 
 "His ear is equally deficient in the matter of rhyme. 
 Moreover he has no sense for the singing quality or the 
 absence of it in words, which he chooses with the free 
 dom of the prose writer. 
 
 "His disregard of form and of music is not compen 
 sated for by any power of imagery or vigor in narrative. 
 
The collection does not present a single vivid picture or 
 tell one story strongly. 
 
 "A detailed criticism would be as long as the volume, 
 and is not warranted by the material." 
 
 "New York, September 18, 1905." 
 
YB 121 13 
 
 740016 
 
 UNIVERSITY OF CALIFORNIA LIBRARY