IHOS.HARTNUf The Poems of Ida Ahlborn Weeks THE POEMS OF IDA AHLBORN WEEKS Souvenir Edition PUBLISHED BY HER FRIENDS SABULA, IOWA 1910 Copyright, 1910 BY L. T. WEEKS SRLE URL Spend in all things else, But of old friends be most miserly. Lowell. Contents Be Hospitable to My Thought I The End 2 Three Months to Live ...... 3 In St. Luke's Hospital ...... 4 Salutation ........ 4 Going Home ........ 5 Death 6 Release ........ 7 Free 8 The City in the Clouds 8 Where Roses Bloom, O Let Us Go ! . . . 9 Hark to the Night ! ...... 10 The Silent Preacher . . . . . .11 Cinnamon Ferns . . . . . .12 Blow, Winds of the Prairie ! . . . . .13 September ........ 14 The Coming of Autumn . . . . . 15 An Autumn Confession . . . . . .16 Anointed Eyes . . . . . . .17 My Love . . . . . . . .18 Song ......... 19 My Heart Has Laid Hold of Thee ! ... 20 Lilacs . . . . . . . . .21 The Sensitive Rose of the Prairie .... 22 How Well Do I Love You ? 23 The Atlas of the Heart 24 Rare Sweetness ....... 24 Assimilation ........ 25 My Heart is Building a Highway .... 26 Our Sister ........ 27 What I Would Do for Thee 28 [vii] CONTENTS By Perversion ....... 29 The Woman in the Corn . . . 30 Individual Justice . . . . . 3 1 Song 32 Let it Pass 33 Surrender ........ 34 Divine Care ........ 35 I Lay Me Hold of Thee ! 36 Increased Trust . . . . . . 37 A Common Prayer . . . . . .38 The Reformer 39 " Let My People Go " 41 Our Present Help ....... 42 Arm me With Love ...... 44 Divine Help 45 The Song of Love ....... 46 Faith and Reason ....... 47 Rejected and Betrayed ...... 48 De Profundis ........ 49 O, the Impartial Christ ! 50 Complicity . . . . . . . 51 God is Good 52 The Changeful Days Go By 53 After the Martyrdom . . . . . 54 Thy Presence . . . . . . -55 Whom Does the Giant Fear ? 56 My Gift 57 A Tale for the Critic 58 The Point of View 59 Poetic License ....... 60 A Mystic Song ....... 60 Life Follows Song ....... 61 The Pearl of Song 62 All My Life I've Been a Singer .... 62 Beauty is Never Afar . . . . . .63 Before a Painting ....... 63 Heart Sickness 64 [ viii ] CONTENTS " Roughness " . . . . . . -64 A Farther East . " . . . . .65 My Mistake . . . . . . , . .66 Pruning . . . . . . . .66 Let Us Abide in Love . . . . -67 Premonition . . . . . . .68 Living Beauty ....... 69 Lost Harmony Restored ...... 70 At Home . . . . . . -7* My Bridge ........ 72 When Will They Come ? 73 A Song of Egypt 74 Lighten Your Ship . . . . . . -75 Not Twice 76 Loss and Gain . . . . . . -77 Consolation ........ 78 The Nearest Duty ....... 79- A Song of Academic Liberty ..... 80 " No Room in the Inn " 82 A Christmas Rondel . . . . . -83 The Crafty Violinist 84 Burns ......... 87 Eugene Field 88 Endure ........ 89 Readjustment ....... 90 SONNETS To-morrow ........ 91 Sunsets ......... 92 At Worship ........ 93 Thy Will Be Done 94 Interpretation . . . . . 95 Love's Victory ....... 96 O, Radiant Light of Love ! 97 Personality ........ 98 Without Haste 99 [ix] CONTENTS In the Forest ....... 100 In Open Air * . . .101 The Poet to the Reader, I 102 The Reader to the Poet, II 103 The Sonnet 104 Renunciation . . . . . . . .105 Progress . . . . . . . .106 Vindication . . . . . . . .107 Waiting . . . . . . . .108 JUVENILE VERSE " Mr. Ten Minutes " 109 When Baby Learned to Walk . . . . .no The Cradle Song 1 1 1 The Ensign-bearer of Fontenoy . . . .112 Myrtle's Song . . . . . 113 A Busy Saturday . . . . . . .114 Primrose Hill . . . . . . ' 1 5 Sudden Healing . . . . . . .116 The Dearest of All 117 The Thunder Side 1 1 8 " In the Cushion " . . . . . .118 " Over One and Under Two" . . . .119 A Wonderful Basket . . . . . 1 20 The Innkeeper's Daughter . . . . .121 Where Does the Ice Go ? . . . . .123 Sleep, My Baby, Sleep . . . . . .124 Slumber Song . . . . . . .125 A Man of Many Climes . . . . . . 1 26 QUATRAINS Time Enough . . . . . . .128 The Critic 128 Primal Necessity . . . . . . .128 Strenuous Life . . . . . . 1 29 CONTENTS Sudden Death . . . . . . .129 A Household Picture . . . . . 1 29 At Dawn . . . . . . . 1 29 Pursuit . . . . . . . . .130 Primroses . . . . . . . .130 Election Day . . . . . . .130 " The Real Thing " 1 30 Desert Dwellers 131 A Nature Faker . . . . . . -131 Anticipation . . . . . . -131 Arise ! 131 Kansas Skies . . . . . . . .132 Materialism . . . . . . . .132 Hidden Resources . . . . . . .132 The Little Arms . . . . . . -133 The Solution . . . . . . . 133 Resignation . . . . . . . 133 Who Loves . . . . . . . .134 To Nature . . . . . . . 134 Wild Fancies . . . . . . .134 Interruption . . . . . . . .134 My Choice . . . . . . . 135 A Prayer . . 135 How Far ? . . . . . . 1 3 5 Rest . . . . . . . . .136 Great Souls . . . . . . . .136 " I'm Nobody "Emily Dickinson . . . .136 [xi] Friendship is a sheltering tree. Coleridge. Wenn Laokoon der Schlangen Sich erwehrt mit namenlosem Schmerz, Da empore sich der Mensch ! Es schlage An des Himmels Wolbung seine Klage Und zerreisse euer fiihlend Herz ! Schiller. Wer nie sein Brod mit Thranen ass, Wer nie die kummervollen Nachte Auf seinem Bette weinend sass, Er kennt euch nicht, ihr himmlischen Machte. Goethe. Poems BE HOSPITABLE TO MY THOUGHT BE hospitable to my thought ! That I have spoken it to thee Is token of my confidence That merits some kind courtesy. Be hospitable to my thought ! However little seem its worth ; Nay, though it had no worth at all Except to rouse contempt or mirth. Be hospitable to my thought ! Oh, more than bread and wine to me, The kindly patience with my thought, The mind's fair hospitality. THE POEMS OF THE END SOME night will come the end, Or in the cheerful day The spirit done with clay Will wing its homeward way. Let it be day or night I do not choose or care ; My spirit grows aware Of native realms of air. When ripe to claim its own, What easy transit then From alien zone of men To its own clime again ! [2] IDA AHLBORN WEEKS THREE MONTHS TO LIVE SO brief a time for me ? If you had said three days, I still would go my ways Serene and free. For, the eternal years Have neither doubts nor fears. Your piercing surgeon's eye Sees but what passes by ; Your surgeon's hand can feel What forces harm and heal. But, past your human ken, The eternal souls of men ! [3] THE POEMS OF IN ST. LUKE'S HOSPITAL A MIST hangs over the lake, And the dancing waves are hid ; But I know the white-caps leap Gay under the murky lid. And I know the sea-gulls fly Skimming the water's crest ; And under your cloud, believe, life moves for your gain and rest. SALUTATION HUSHED be detraction's angry cry ! Hushed be the bare and barren truth Thou art a fellow man, as I, Departing daily from thy youth. Across the gulf of hate and harm I reach a kindly hand to thee ; And of the great Unshortened Arm May it a welcome symbol be ! [4] IDA AHLBORN WEEKS GOING HOME I'M going home ! I've tarried on the alien plain so long That in my throat has almost died the song I'm going home ! I'm going home, Where snowy peaks salute the summer sky And call to life again the submerged I I'm going home ! I'm going home ! I touch again the great ancestral heights, And lo ! my dark blooms into countless lights I'm going home ! '[5] THE POEMS OF DEATH WE shrink from death, yet it may be A final act of charity, The only kindness left to show That God remembers ache and throe. " Come quickly, Death," how often pray They who have seen life waste away, Till even love could hardly find The old familiar face and mind. O speed thee, Death, and bring release ; For pain give thy unbroken peace. [6] IDA AHLBORN WEEKS KELEASE HOW glad I am the old proud life is done ! No longer do I need to seem to know ; Released at last from seeming and from show, How evenly I see my moments run, And packed with true achievement every one. No vagrant longing for the stately years Disturbs my peaceful hours. I have no place That asks of me a certain form and grace ; Reduced to nothingness I lose my fears And turn to action all my fount of tears. [7] THE POEMS OF FREE I HEAR the turnkey at the door ; The iron bolts he draws, And I the prey of courts and laws Shall see the violets bloom once more. And you beside oh ! rapturous day ! And the thrushes flooding the wood With the songs we understood "When love swept all our doubts away. THE CITY IN THE CLOUDS TO a city I am going Wondrous fair ; This is but a highway Leading there. Stay me not, I hasten, For I see Spires and lights and turrets Beckon me. [8] IDA AHLBOEN WEEKS WHERE ROSES BLOOM, O LET US GO I WHERE roses bloom, O let us go ! Far from this land of ice and snow, "Where the auroras glow. Arise, my love, and let us go Where once again the roses grow. How came we here, I do not know. In some dark hour when hope was low, And every friend became a foe, We must have turned to ice and snow And left the land where roses grow. I feel again the fragrant zephyrs blow, I hear again the limpid waters flow, The merry scythe-men as they mow. O joy ! O life ! for we shall go Where once again the roses grow. [9] THE POEMS OF HAEK TO THE NIGHT ! HAKK to the night : The never-ceasing hum, The far-off baying of a hound, A mandolin's soft thrum, A sound Of youthful voices in delight. Say not The silent night The voicef ul night ! She has her eloquence Beyond the vulgar sense, An infinite variety ; She knows to make To all who wake Her own melodious plea. [10] IDA AHLBORN WEEKS THE SILENT PREACHER THE preacher tells of Paul, And Paul at second hand Is harder than at first, I fear, to understand. But when four windows give A view the fields across, The. mingled gold and green, I cannot suffer loss. ["I THE POEMS OF CINNAMON FEKNS I KNOW a spot where the ferns, The cinnamon ferns are tall ; They bow in the summer wind An undulant madrigal. A gum-tree stands alone, He nods to the swaying fronds ; They heed him not, for they dream, They dream of the yonkopin ponds. The mosses under the spell Of the waving wands above Cling close to the earth and drink Of the hidden springs they love. [12] IDA AHLBORN WEEKS BLOW, WINDS OF THE PRAIRIE ! BLOW, winds of the prairie, blow ! Blow your message, blow : I listen, I listen as low As the notes of the atmosphere go ; I listen, I listen as high As the ashen sky. O, I listen beyond the depth and the height To the home of the winds out of sight. Blow, winds of the prairie, blow ; Ye have withered my corn ; But give me the secret whereof you are born. Blow, winds of the prairie, blow. [13] THE POEMS OF SEPTEMBER ALL the land is flushed with yellow,- Flowers of the sun ; I have seen ten thousand thousand Blending into one. All the land is flushed with yellow ; Goldenrod is here. thou prodigal September, Spendthrift of the year. 1 the provident, I gather Of thy gold to buy In the winter food and raiment When the orphans cry. IDA AHLBORN WEEKS THE COMING OF AUTUMN I MARKED the summer pass : For days the wind blew angrily, With now and then a breath of heat, That sapped the life from men, Who would, yet could not, flee The sounds that beat By night and day on door and window glass, Till all the land was like a prison-pen, Where, weary as the crew on stormy main, We prayed for rest, we prayed for rain. One night twice came a lull, Then, after fiercer blast, A pattering music sweet, I fell asleep, And when the night had passed I woke in calm so deep, So deep, and yet not dull : And going forth into the morning clear, Lo ! Autumn whispered, " I am here." C'5] THE POEMS OF AN AUTUMN CONFESSION WHEN Autumn days are here I catch the squirrel's mood From orchard, grove, and field I gather up my food. Do you despise me quite For my housewifely care, And think I therefore miss The Autumn sweetness rare ? Once I did also know Mere literary days, When free from labor's stress I sang my notes of praise. How could I guess the hand Of much employment May miss the dainty touch To grip the whole intent ! O Autumn, as I glean Thy wholesome treasures fair, "What glimpses of thy soul Drift through the mellow air ! [id] IDA AHLBORN WEEKS And when thy glory comes, Thy good in barn and bin, Oh ! then in leisure ripe I drink thy beauty in. I yield me to thy spell, And having wrought with thee, I enter in thy joy, Thy sacred mystery. ANOINTED EYES IT seemed that life was bane, That all its joys were vain, As from the house I came. I walked adown the hawthorne lane, And over me it went like flame, That life is joy, That every grief, annoy, Is but a straw upon the stream, Or a forgotten dream. ['7] THE POEMS OF MY LOVE THE thrush is here ! My Love goes forth at dawn Music-drawn, To hear that songster clear. My Love knows every note of bird, An understanding seems to be Between himself and all we see A mystic word. He knows to mutely wait Like some lone pilgrim at the gate Who tarries till my lord goes in, And then amid the din He enters my Love abides the hour Of coming majesty, And on that wave of power He calmly floats, to see A glory that impatient haste Has never looked upon. He fears no dearth nor waste, My Love, by Nature drawn To confidences sweet, That even song may not repeat. [18] IDA AHLBORN WEEKS SONG OSOUL of mine, awaken ! The world awakes with thee, Its chain of slumber shaken Into the morning sea. O soul of mine, awaken ! The sleeping court below, Of thee, its life, forsaken, All movement must forego. O soul of mine, awaken ! The prince is at the gate Ah ! by his kiss o'ertaken, The soul has found its mate ! [19] THE POEMS OF MY HEAKT HAS LAID HOLD OF THEE! MY heart has laid hold of thee ! And thou shalt not go away ; But forever and a day Shalt thou abide with me ; For my heart has laid hold of thee. As the fountain yearns for the sea, So my heart through the long, long years Has yearned, and with unshed tears Mine eyes have inquired for thee, Till the fountain has reached the sea. My heart has laid hold of thee ! As the vine attains to heights Where the wonders of days and nights Break over the mighty tree, So my heart has attained to thee. [20] IDA AHLBORN WEEKS LILACS 2 lilacs bloom, a joy to see, A joy to breathe the sweet perfume ; But deeper joy is memory, When lilacs bloom. WTiat now avails the marble tomb ? Sweet Maud walks reverently Kejoicing in the lilac's plume. I walk with her again as free As in those days of ample room When it was joy enough to me That lilacs bloom. [21] THE POEMS OF THE SENSITIVE KOSE OF THE PRAIRIE THE sensitive rose of the prairie, It shrinks at the touch of the hand ; It shrinks like the heart of a woman Whom love's first summons command. The sensitive rose of the prairie ! Oh, sweet are its balls of pink ; As sweet as the thoughts of a woman Who stands unaware on love's brink. The sensitive rose of the prairie, It pines in the garden or lawn ; It pines like the life of a woman From its primal love withdrawn. The sensitive rose of the prairie, The soul of the ardent plain, As love is the soul of the woman, Her glory and rapture and pain. [22] IDA AHLBORN WEEKS HOW WELL DO I LOVE YOU? HOW well do I love you ? oh ! how well ? Would you like me to reckon and tell ? Well enough to free you, bid you go ; Tyrants may fetter, but love is not so. How well do I love you ? Let me see : Well enough to keep you still with me, Glance of your eye and touch of your hand Holding my pulses at your command. How well do I love you ? oh ! how well ? What if I let you the story tell ? " Well enough to wed you when the June Brings the roses for our honeymoon ! " [23] THE POEMS OF THE ATLAS OF THE HEART THE chart of knowledge, Love, I pray thee put it by ; The facts are thick thereon As stars upon the sky. Have we not for our use An older, simpler chart ? Go to, my Love, and bring The atlas of the heart. T RARE SWEETNESS HERE is a sweetness rare That always gives me pain, The sweetness of a maid Whose love has been in vain. Though true that birds may sing The sweeter, losing sight, I hear through all the song A wailing in the night. [24] IDA AHLBORN WEEKS ASSIMILATION FOE thy hard times, what cares the world ? It cares not what the ostrich eats, So it give waving plumes to wear Parading down the crowded streets. Nor do thou care, intent to use All times to their transforming worth : To feed the soul to beauty's ends, For this are all the times of earth. [25] THE POEMS OF MY HEAET IS BUILDING A HIGHWAY MY heart is building all the day For you and me a shining street ; O wild and long the mountain way We two have walked with bleeding feet ; But now across the sunlit plains, Through peaceful valleys green and fair, With hills enough for far-off gains, Shall we not walk, a happy pair ? My heart is building night and morn From all the wrecks that we have known, From hopes and dreams that yet adorn A highway safe, and all our own. [26] IDA AHLBORN WEEKS OUR SISTER OUR sister sleeps ere set of sun, Her work has fallen from her hands ; Enough of labor she has done Kind nature understands. Speak softly of her many deeds Of love and tenderness ; Still mindful of our needs, And eager to relieve and bless. Our sister sleeps ! How like is she To our dear mother gone before ; Oh, hush ! Weep not so bitterly, For love is love f orevermore. [27] THE POEMS OF WHAT I WOULD DO FOE THEE NOW what would I do for thee ? A deed so openly great That angels would wait Beside the pearly gate To honor and welcome me ? This thing that I do for thee Is humble and unknown : While the trumpets are blown I watch in the dark alone Where foes encompass me. But the day will rise for thee When a good desired long Will come to thee like a song To the lips of a poet strong " And this has she done for me ! " [28] IDA AHLBORN WEEKS BY PEKVEPJ3ION ALL that we dreamed that he might be, Behold, he has attained to-day ; Our vision glows a verity, But oh ! how devious was the way. Perverse at every cross and turn ! Contrariwise he sought the goal By means that once he could but spurn With all the fervor of his soul. [29] THE POEMS OF THE WOMAN IN THE COKN I SAW her busy with the hoe, A brown-clad figure in the corn, That stretched away row after row, That she had traveled since the morn. Before my mind a mansion rose With gleaming pillars, stately towers ; What tricks of trade the owner knows Who made his millions in three hours ! Yet with a liberal hand he gives What speeds full many a worthy cause, And on his neighbors' lips he lives A man who loves his country's laws. But yonder from that field of corn, The corn on which his gain was made, I see that toiler gaunt and worn, Walk down his marble colonnade. [30] IDA AHLBORN WEEKS INDIVIDUAL JUSTICE 1 T \ 7E cannot wait," they said ; V T "Tis but a single man." And on the Power sped To keep its chosen plan. Yet that one man became A bar across the path As high as Heaven's name, And hot as Heaven's wrath. THE POEMS OF SONG COME, O come ! It is the month of June, Full-orbed the silver moon ; The snowy lilies on the lake Are all alert, awake, O Love, for thy dear sake. Come, O come ! Come, O come ! The shining veil of day At last is drawn away ; And in the balmy night We tread the spirit's height, Clad in immortal light. Come, O come ! [32] IDA AHLBORN WEEKS LET IT PASS WHEN a man has done thee wrong, Let it pass : Briefer than the summer grass Or the sparrow's song Are the deeds of evil done Under the impartial sun. Evil 'tis a seeming thing ! Let it pass Like the shadow on the grass, While the tendrils cling To the good, that cannot know Either hurt or overthrow. [33] THE POEMS OF SURRENDER HAVE I not done what I could do ? Now take the lines, whoever will ; I drove the robber passes through, I crossed the lightning-riven hill Now take the lines, whoever will. My panting steeds are good For any length of road ; (Drive softly through the wood, Oh ! softly by my love's abode.) My foaming bays are eager still ; Now take the lines, whoever will. [34] IDA AHLBORN WEEKS DIVINE CARE O WONDROUS are thy ways : The plant proclaims thy power, Anew appears thy praise In every fragile flower. All creatures in thy thought Are held with tender care ; Thy love enfolds them, though unsought, As amply as the air. A fragile plant am I To alien soil transferred, And half I fear to die, By change so deeply stirred. Yet thou who for a weed Dost care with tenderness, Shalt thou not know my need And comfort me and bless ? [35] THE POEMS OF I LAY ME HOLD OF THEE! I LAY me hold of Thee! Thou art for me And waiting for my grasp. I lay me hold of Thee, And feel thy answering clasp. I rise from mine entangling free, Achieving in my liberty Along with Thee, O God, along with thee ! With hostile forces long I strove, and spent with wrong I turned at last to Thee, The righteous verity. Oh ! grasping thee I found Adjustment far and near ; My segment grew a round, My faith cast out intrusive fear , For am I not secure with Thee, Achieving in my liberty Thy work that sets the people free ! [36] IDA AHLBORN WEEKS INCREASED TRUST I TRUSTED thee now shall I trust thee more? Ah me ! the fading shore ! the fading shore ! The lights grow dim I lean across the vessel's rim ; I fear the deep below, And yet the stars above me glow : Almighty God, hold thou me to the course Retreat that were disgrace, remorse, Hold thou me to the course ! The chartered way that others go O God ! it closes let me rise To be deserving of thy far surprise, Thy sunlit isles, thy ports "Where wealth, uncounted wealth resorts Oh ! let my courage rise That I may know thy far surprise. [37] THE POEMS OF A COMMON PRAYER I DO not come to ask Some blessing past the common sight, Some vision rapt and rare, Reserved for saintly anchorite. I ask but that I know My fellow man without delay ; That I discern the friend, And mark the foe when far away. I ask but that I feel Whatever message Nature brings : Responsive to the dawn, And to the song the throstle sings. This wisdom do I ask From thy unbounded treasure store O, hark ! thy swift reply : " All this, my child, and always more." [38] IDA AHLBORN WEEKS How could I guess who asked For prudent gift and earthly things, That to all these thy love, Like a pervading fragrance clings ! My common prayer, O God, Has reached thy throne of dazzling light ; And through my earth-born clay I feel the heavenly visions smite. THE REFORMER ROPING on my way I went Seeking still some truth afar, Till at last the East was rent By the rising of a star. In its radiance I saw Meaning in my troubled past ; For the underlying law To the surface came at last. He who finds a cause, a lord, Leads no more a filching rout ; Ordered troops with gun and sword, Aiming for the last redoubt. [39] THE POEMS OF Life I used to love and prize Now a force whereby some good To its rightful place may rise, Honored, loved, and understood. Sigh for me who wills to sigh For the losses I sustain While my years in strife go by, That to many seem but vain. Call our roll from Nazarine Down to Lincoln's warring day Ah ! the glory in between, And the ever-upward way ! Oh ! the vision high and clear That enchants, allures me on, Yet to many shall appear Like the breaking of the dawn ! Come, then, combat, come what will, All my soul is in the fray ; Through the marshes, o'er the hill "While the unseen bugles play. [40] IDA AHLBORN WEEKS "LET MY PEOPLE GO" 'T ET my people go !" -L-* Said Jehovah to the king, " To the desert worshiping." " Of Jehovah naught I know," Answered Pharaoh in his scorn ; And he bade the toilers worn Gather here and there the straw Still the tale of bricks is law. " Let my people go ! " Shall Jehovah speak in vain ? He will cleave the sea in twain ; He will make all Egypt know Through his miracles tenfold Who by Aaron's mouth has told Message Pharaoh shall obey Till the cry, Away ! Away ! " " Let my people go ! " Listen all who claim to be Children of the promise free, All who tread the earth below, THE POEMS OF Yielding up the only son, Crying still, " Thy will be done " Slaves and exiles for a time, Then deliverance sublime ! OUK PRESENT HELP WHEN dangers close us all around, When truth for which our souls have striven Is trodden down and shouts resound, Shall we escape then, panic-driven ? The undefeated God, "Who in a clod Did breathe a soul divine His voice our fear has riven, And formed us into line. Our hearts would melt in doubt away, Did we not know who holds the banner That floats for justice full and clear To men of every creed and manner. [42] IDA AHLBORN WEEKS Our God advances still Beyond the will Of men who seek their own Behold his floating banner On heights unsealed, unknown ! Let fraud and craft surround our door, Let devils watch our coming, going ; They force us but to strive the more To bring our spirits into showing, To grip with all our might, The changeless right, To follow Him who leads, His eager trumpets blowing, True men to valiant deeds. Though earthly losses may befall, Our name and goods from us be taken, Though girt about by prison wall, Our faith shall aye remain unshaken : Our God in whom we trust, Whose cause is just, From hidden deep and height Will forces rouse, awaken To battle for the right. [43] AKM ME WITH LOVE ARM me with love, O Son of God, Thou who wert love in human guise ; Defenceless as the crumbling clod, Else I confront the armed emprise. For weapons men invent, provide, What can they in stress avail ? Alas ! the treacherous arms of pride Return on him who would assail. Equipped with love shall I not know The perfect courage that maintains The fight until the prostrate foe Beholds the truth that lives and reigns ! Arm me with love, again I pray ; I have no battle of my own ; For Thee, with Thee, I dare the fray, The victory is all Thine own. [44] IDA AHLBORN WEEKS DIVINE HELP ALONE, alone, I seemed to be ! My servile spirit could not see The mountains full of horses fleet, Of chariots in glowing heat. Son of God, I heard thee pray The darkness fell from me away ; 1 saw thy hosts, I heard their shout, And all my fears were put to rout. Now welcome combat, since I know Who helps me to oppose the foe ; Thy cause, of victory secure, Shall I not hazard and endure ! I hear them rally to my need, The warriors of immortal breed ; I, too, take on immortal traits, And lose my earth-born loves and hates. [45] THE POEMS OF O help Divine, encircling me ! radiant army that I see ! 1 beat no more the air I fight Endued with all Jehovah's might. THE SONG OF LOVE WHY do ye sing from age to age, Of love, and love alone ? Ko other impulses of life Have ye poor singers known ? We keep this theme the ages through, Because the song of love Includes the depths that yawn below, The Heights that soar above. [46] IDA AHLBORN WEEKS FAITH AND REASON FAITH reached a height and sank again With clutching hands, with slipping feet, To that vast plain where vulgar men O'er vulgar things converse, compete. " 'Twas a delusion and a dream, The rocky height, the eagle's nest, The prospect over vale and stream," Said Faith, her hands upon her breast. Then Reason caught her whisper low, Looked keenly, and in answer said, " The mountain marks, to all who know, Are on thee even foot to head." [47] THE POEMS OF REJECTED AND BETRAYED REJECTED and betrayed, my Saviour went To Calvary beneath his burden bent To perish on the tree And mark the way for me That I must travel if I too would know The victory of love in final throe. I used to stand beneath the cross and gaze Upon his cruel death with sad amaze Oh ! this he did for me, This death upon the tree ! And thus at second hand I thought to win Deliverance from all the hurt of sin. I knew the while Barabbas went his way, The hapless travelers to rob and slay ; But I what could I do, Held by that awful view ? And yet at times across my spirit smote From coming combat a terrific note. [48] IDA AHLBORN WEEKS Rejected and betrayed ! O Christ, at last I know the way ; I see the lots are cast For raiment I have worn ; I hear the hiss of scorn ; O Christ, at last to be indeed like thee Exalted saved upon the cursed tree ! DE PROFUNDIS NOT for release I pray Oh, deepen thou the pain Until the murmur slain Dies on our lips away ; Until the soul intense Awakes to meet the strain, The soul that conquers pain, And smiles at time and sense. Not for release I call Let us not writhe in vain, But perfect thou the pain, Lest we should forfeit all. [49] THE POEMS OF O, THE IMPARTIAL CHRIST! OTHE impartial Christ ! "Who questions not what we may be, As, groveling in our misery, We seek him, groping to his feet, Our refuge and our sole retreat. O, the impartial Christ ! O, the impartial Christ ! To him the king and beggar kneel, And through their broken being feel The tides of healing ebb and flow, The touch that love alone can know. O, the impartial Christ ! O, the impartial Christ ! Our sin has made us in his sight All equal in our wretched plight. He lifts us, lo ! his brothers we, Heirs to his royal destiny. O, the impartial Christ ! [50] IDA AHLBORN WEEKS COMPLICITY THE garments at my willing feet, The witnesses have laid ; There falls a cruel hail of stone On Stephen unafraid. The saint is dead and none will say, " The man was slain by Saul," But lo ! my conscience casts me out Beyond the city wall. "What matters it that hands refrain, When hearts have cast the stone ? Forgive me, Lord, as if thy saint Were slain by me alone. GOD IS GOOD ALMOST I had forgotten That God is very good. His punishments are kindness By us misunderstood. Each day I wonder, wonder, At love in some new wise O God, how shall I fathom The. depths of thy surprise ? [52] IDA AHLBORN WEEKS THE CHANGEFUL DAYS GO BY T HE changeful days go by ; One thing unchanged for aye My need of thee. Hushed is the song of spring, The rose a withered thing, Stay thou by me. The summer days are here, Of golden grain the fields are clear ; I need thee still. "What seasons yet are mine, Thou presence all divine, Their voiduess filL [53] THE POEMS OF AFTER THE MARTYRDOM I THREW a stone or two ; you know They all were throwing stones ; The air seemed full of missiles, dust, Of hisses, shouts, and groans. My stone it hardly struck the wretch, Upon the edge I stood ; In front were men of higher rank, And rated sane and good. Once he did turn his bleeding face, I feared to look at me Then up to heaven he gazed and caught Light from eternity. That glowing countenance O, Sir, I stole abashed away ; 'Twas but a single stone I flung, And yet alack ! the day. [54] IDA AHLBORN WEEKS THY PRESENCE SINCE I at length have learned to go To sacred courts nor there require A priest whose lips are touched with fire, Thy eloquence I feel and know. I seek thy house to meet with thee ; While song and speech may prove an aid, Who puts his faith in them, dismayed Shall often from thy presence flee. But who find thee are well content : Whate'er the means of worship lack, A charm is there that draws them back Where that seraphic hour was spent. Thy presence, Lord, is all we need, And that is nevermore denied ; " Abide in me." Yea, we abide, And on thy life unseen we feed. [55] THE POEMS OF WHOM DOES THE GIANT FEAR ? NOW, whom does the giant fear, The giant that lives on the edge of the wood ? The priest or the clown ? They both disappear, And gulping them down, He mutters, " Good ! " The child that came for violets, He swallows without regrets. And the warrior men honored as brave He finds in that maw a grave. Now, whom does he fear All through the changing year ? Ah ! the scholar and poet, these twain, May walk in the wood in sun and rain, And the giant will tremble and hide, And yield them the forest so wide ; For they have a charm His wrath to disarm. [56] IDA AHLBOKN WEEKS MY GIFT TO his Maker's throne Each his gift must bring,- I have but a song to sing. Gifts of flock and field, Toil of hand and brain, I have but a simple strain. What was given to me That I needs must bring, I have but a song to sing. Yet, O Maker, hark ! In my native troll Are the echoes of my soul. [57] THE POEMS OF A TALE FOE THE CRITIC BEFORE we criticise A life or work of art, 'Twere well if first we learned This ancient tale by heart : When Rome with Persia warred, ('Twas in Galerius' day,) "What treasures of the East The Romans bore away ! In Persian tent and field The spoils were strewn around ;- Of shining leather lay A bag upon the ground ; A soldier's prize ! 'Twill serve His purpose well, no doubt ; But first he turned the pearls As useless pebbles out 1 [58] IDA AHLBORN WEEKS THE POINT OF VIEW HE wandered east, he wandered west, Ah, me ! what scenes he saw ! But aye he said in discontent, " The picture has its flaw ! " She dwelt alone in dismal spot, Yet said each morn, " How fair ! For her, pure soul, the thought of God Thrilled through the earth and air. Aye he who takes the form for soul, His heart is ill at ease ; Who sees the soul within the form, Most lowly things may please. [59] THE POEMS OF POETIC LICENSE SHE sings of nightingales ; Yet never one doth fly Through all that western sky. She sings of love and loss ; And I suspect that they Are continents away. A MYSTIC SONG OI love a mystic song , As a bird loves the air, As a fish loves the sea, As a hound loves the hare ! O, I love a mystic song, And I need no paraphrase, As the chamois needs no guide O'er the mountain ways. [60] IDA AHLBORN WEEKS LIFE FOLLOWS SONG MY heart is awake and sings With the morning lark. We have slept how long ! how long ! Through the lonely dark. My heart is awake and sings And will build its nest, And feel the wonderful life a-thrill Under the mother-breast ; For my heart is awake and sings, life follows after song ! By a law that cannot fail Through the ages long. [61] THE POEMS OF THE PEARL OF SONG HOW many fathoms deep Down in the sea Must the diver go Who dives for thee ? Farewell to sky, Farewell to shore, To find a single pearl On ocean's floor. ALL MY LIFE I'VE BEEN A SINGER ALL my life I've been a singer ; All my life I've been a bringer Of the vital notes that cling To the soul of everything. Now behold me, old and poor ; Yet the music shall endure Shall draw the sky to stoop and fold Me in robes of rose and gold. [62] IDA AHLBORN WEEKS BEAUTY IS NEVER AFAR BEAUTY is never afar : I went in the garden ; I gathered up my brown-checked gingham apron, And plucked from the rank vines the glowing tomatoes ; I paused by the peach-tree And added a few to my burden. BEFORE A PAINTING I THINK: he painted it for me, Not for great dames who gaze, Upon the rural scene and give In courtly language praise. I think he painted it for me Because I know these lowly ways : The peasant blood within my veins, O Master, speaks thy praise. [63] THE POEMS OF HEAKT SICKNESS "T TOW comes heart sickness, dost thou know ? " J- A Not through some unexpected blow, But through a process long and slow, And lo ! the heart is sick and sore, And comfort seems a vanished lore. " How does heart sickness pass away, Tell me, O .friend, if thou canst say ? " Through love's slow healing day by day, Through Nature's touch, through faith in One Who watches ftfe through shade and sun. "ROUGHNESS" O WE'VE bran," said Mrs. Western, ' " But a cow must have beside Koughness, or before you know it, She'll be either dead or dried." " * Roughness ' ? do they mean to beat her ? " Thought the gentle Mrs. Maine ; But her husband laughing told her, " Hay, alfalfa, millet, cane ! " [64] IDA AHLBORN WEEKS A FARTHER EAST ~"*HEY scorned him for his "Western mood, * They on Atlantic's brim, They knew not that a farther East Burned in the soul of him ; An East that from his birth he knew- O, sacred Alps that rise Through childhood dream, through tale and song To cleave the lonely skies ! Who through two hundred years must grope To find the Old World's heart, Its garnered sense of life and lore, Its deep impulse of art, It ill becomes them to deride The man whose pulses bear A music that has died away Upon the alien air. [65] THE POEMS OF MY MISTAKE I SAW a coming grief and cried, " Not this, not this, I pray ! " It vanished, and a vaster grief Cast darkness on my way, Till that first grief became a light That one might gladly hail, As after sunset we rejoice In even moonlight pale. PKUKING AYLNTER went in his vineyard And clipped the leaves away ;- The bashful grapes saluted The monarch of the day. And the mildew like a serpent, It glided out of sight, While purple and sweet the clusters Grew in the summer light. [66] IDA AHLBORN WEEKS LET US ABIDE IN LOVE LET us abide in love ! 'Tis our constructive power. It builds our fort and fame, It rears our hall and tower. Let us abide in love ! The earth is fresh and fair With flower and with song While love pervades the air. Let us abide in love ! Nor let the heart decay, Whatever strength of life The years may take away. [67] THE POEMS OF PKEMONITION THE robin knows that spring is near, He needs no chart to mark the year The robin knows. The violet feels the coming spring O, sense profound in bud and wing ! The violet feels. O human heart, shalt thou not be Aware of coming destiny, O human heart ! [68] IDA AHLBORN WEEKS LIVING BEAUTY I SAID I will let my life be As bare as an autumn tree, I will not endeavor With fingers clever To fasten a leaf here and there To shut out the sunlight and air. O, true is the earth below, And true is the sky above : A tree that is able to grow, And a soul that is able to love, We may trust the long winter through, For beauty is certain as God is true. [69] THE POEMS OF LOST HARMONY KESTORED ART thou ill at ease ? Look about and find Something that has need Of thy heart and mind. And that need performed Shall thy solace be ; Surely it restores Thy lost harmony. [70] IDA AHLBORN WEEKS AT HOME LOUISE remains at home, Though friends and neighbors go To see the wondrous fair Where all the World 's on show. They tell her of the sights " It must be fine indeed," She says and sews away As if for urgent need. Her face is like the dawn, And still she sews and sews Such tiny frocks ! nor cares Who stays at home or goes. [71] THE POEMS OF MY BRIDGE I CAME upon the stream Alas ! the swollen flood ; I had no boat to cross, I had no plank of wood. Then blew a kindly wind Across the stream there lay A mighty oak, and I Walked o'er without delay. [72] IDA AHLBORN WEEKS WHEN WILL THEY COME? I WEARY of these alien ones, When will they come, my own ? Whom I shall know and understand By every touch and tone. Oh, sick at heart am I of these Who pause for argument, Who lack the common blood that feels The heart of the intent. Bring me mine own, O God of life, Call them to me from far; My spirit woos them to my side From thy most distant star. [73] THE POEMS OF A SONG OF EGYPT (Lebanon, 111., is in that part of the state known as Egypt.) "T Tl 7"HAR you done a libbin' now ? " ' Way down in Egypt ; Makin' bricks widouten straw, Groanin' under Pharaoh's law, "Way down in Egypt, "Way down. Here I toils among my foes, Way down in Egypt, Whar de stranger am deir prey (Makes deir libbin' dat-a-way,) Way down in Egypt, Way down. An' I see de signs ob hope Way down in Egypt ! Hear dat Moses drawin' nigh, Land ob Canaan by and by. Farewell to Egypt, Farewell ! [74] IDA AHLBORN WEEKS LIGHTEN YOUK SHIP LIGHTEN your ship when Euroclydon conies, Lighten your ship ! Cast in the ocean your tackling and wheat, Fling to the billows your vesture and meat. Lighten your ship when Euroclydon comes, Lighten your ship ! Kiches that cost you the blood in your veins Forth in the sea ! Things that by gift and by usage were dear, In the wild waters they plunge, disappear. Life, oh ! for life will you lavish your gains On the mad sea. Lighten your ship when Euroclydon comes, Lighten your ship ! Life is for love, and the value of love Heaven alone has the reckoning of : Lighten your ship when Euroclydon comes, Lighten your ship. [75] THE POEMS OF NOT TWICE SOME things will come again The lightning, storm, and rain ; But never shall we know Again that depth of pain. For you and I, we drank Down to the dregs the cup ; f Not twice between the thieves Are victims offered up. [76] IDA AHLBORN WEEKS LOSS AND GAIN OF gains that we applaud I think with little pleasure ; For still my losses seem To me my chiefest treasure ; For still through losses came The spirit's larger vision ; The wavering will attained The granite of decision. Let prudent merchants, then, Compute in their own fashion ; Another mode prevails "Where love is ruling passion : Oh, losses I have known ! Oh, losses that await me 1 These only shall at last In Eden reinstate me. [77] THE POEMS OF CONSOLATION ONE day a friendship died No wrong was done ; It simply ceased to be Beneath the sun. One day a friendship new To one was born ; That ancient grief became A thing outworn. Say what we will, the child Upon the breast Consoles us for the one In dreamless rest. [78] IDA AHLBORN WEEKS THE NEAREST DUTY I SAID that I would do The works of love alone, And in my breast my heart Remained as hard as stone. I said, Now I will do Whatever comes to do. And lo ! my stony heart Was molten through and through. [79] THE POEMS OF A SONG OF ACADEMIC LIBERTY AKISE, who bend o'er song and story, Who search for truth in her retreat ; "What profits all your learned glory If freedom suffer a defeat ? Arise and listen ! Down the ages The shackles on the thinker ring ; And what ye read on placid pages "Was once condemned by priest and king. O ye who guard the sacred portals With vigilance of heart and brain, Through which the troop of the immortals Comes ever with their glistening train O thinker, teacher, seer, bestowing Such guardian service, shall ye be The slaves of tyrants all unknowing The highest gifts are from the free ? Shall ye not see a Hamlet's passion Portrayed upon the tragic stage ? Must truth be right to you in fashion When it is duly stamped with age ? [80] IDA AHLBORN WEEKS Shall ye not dare condemn the writer "Who writes from vanity and greed ? And dare to be the public smiter Of men who mount by evil deed ? Of old did Galileo mutter As he recanted, " Yet it moves " ? Ye, too, below your breath must utter What blinded custom disapproves. O ye, for truth who groan and travail, Shall ye be driven to obey The barren slaves who basely cavil At life and life's imperious way ? For you no sword that cleaves asunder, And not for you the piercing ball ; But eloquence has still her thunder, The people are the open hall. The law that underlies our nation Is still to tyranny a foe ; And to your help comes all creation When once ye are in freedom's throe. [81] THE POEMS OF "NO KOOM IN THE INN" "The Navarre has every modern convenience. No children. " Newspaper Advertisement. " "\7"OU saw the pair at the door -- That to-night I turned away ? " The landlord asked his wife In Herod's regal day. " I saw the pair indeed, And right were you to deny ; For an inn is never a place "Where one should be born or die ! " " So I thought," he made response ; " The stable is open for them." And there ere the dawn was born The Babe of Bethlehem. [82] IDA AHLBOKN WEEKS A CHRISTMAS RONDEL REJOICE ! the Christ is born ! " Ah ! in a time afar, Beneath a Roman czar, To grieve and mourn forlorn ; For him the scourge and thorn, The shame at Pilate's bar " Rejoice ! the Christ is born, Of love the avatar ! What power has Herod's scorn Or Peter's lie to mar The bright and morning star ! Rejoice ! the Christ is born To thee this winter morn. [83] THE POEMS OF THE CRAFTY VIOLINIST (This story ia told of Ole Bull and Erickson.) THEY played as lads together, But drifted far apart ; And each became a master In Science and in Art. A prince among inventors The older one became ; In music won the younger A far-resounding name. And after years of parting Their pathways crossed again. How strong and deep the friendship Of two victorious men ! And often to his concerts The wizard of the bow Implored his friend's attendance, "Who ever answered, " No ! " [84] IDA AHLBORN WEEKS Because no taste for music Was in his nature born, And time in vain amusement For him were time forlorn. Not thus the sweet musician Was baffled by the plea : His violin for mending He sent in craftily. Then to a skilful workman His friend the task assigned, Nor dreamed a wily purpose Was in the player's mind. He came himself, the master, His bow beneath his arm ; He chatted while he tested If well repaired the harm. He drew, as half unconscious, Across the strings the bow, Nor heeded how the workmen Stood in a gaping row. [85] THE POEMS OF Then, as if he remembered, He checked himself and prayed A pardon for his " fiddling " In which by use betrayed. " Play on ! " his friend insisted ; " I knew not what I said When to the touch of music I vowed my soul was dead ! " " "Who were the pair ? " you question ; You know them long and well, But that you may remember, Their names I gladly tell : John Erickson, the builder Who made the Monitor, And Ole Bull, the player Of many a witching score. [86] IDA AHLBORN WEEKS BURNS O BURNS, sweet bard of love ! Let them who love resort to thee, As to the linden flies the bee. O Burns, sweet bard of love ! Who lack in love have need of thee, As of the linden has the bee. O Burns, sweet bard of love ! Thou linden lane of poesy ; The human heart, the hungry bee. [87] THE POEMS OF EUGENE FIELD WHO of Krinken sang the song, Sun-child that the ocean long Wooed, and won to his embrace, And the summer of his face Made a summer in the sea, Where with maiden Nis went he Ah ! the singer in the deep Sank away in sleep. Sun-child must a singer be : Warmer is the hoary sea Warmer for that golden ray Is the ocean's heart for aye ; And upon the lonely shore Winter reigns f orevennore. [88] IDA AHLBORN WEEKS ENDUKE ENDUKE ! endure ! a little while May bring the issue fair and great. Let no impatience thee beguile Of that for which thy soul doth wait. Endure ! endure ! nor fail to strive. Above thee bend the powers unseen To keep thy courage still alive, To fight thy breathing spells between. [89] THE POEMS OF READJUSTMENT LET it not grieve thee when the throng With which thou hast companioned long Falls from thee in a sudden way, As leaves drop from the autumn spray ; It means another throng must come Hark ! to the far recruiting drum ! New comrades call to noble fight, To larger conquests for the right. Respond ! respond ! and from the mind Expel all wrong, all thoughts unkind ; Join with the host that brings to thee New life, new faith, new liberty. [90] IDA AHLBORN WEEKS Sonnets TO-MORROW TO-MORROW I will do just thus and so, And lose this haunting sense of misery." The morrow came, and I was glad and free, And all the tasks that I had set in row, All of a sudden I did let them go, And bade the living day to govern me. What wonders new ! what strange placidity ! A world so near me that I did not know ! O, artificial life, hard evermore, Depart and let spontaneous force arise, A force that has a law beyond our eyes, Untainted by the human grind and greed. To that I yield, and ever new the shore, A rapture every note a flower each weed. THE POEMS OF SUNSETS I MARKED the sunsets all the summer through, And in their flames of glory bathed my soul, As bathes the flower itself at night in dew, At morn with fragrance sweeter to unroll. Responsive to the sunset's splendor, I, Who in that vision asked for nothing more, Dreamed not that gracious nature, standing by, A human gift reserved for me in store, That, when my soul was level to its height, She would reveal, and, smiling down on me, Entreat me to accept the greater boon, As one who, faithful to the dying light, Is worthy of the dawn eye cannot see, A light beyond the sun and stars and moon. [92] IDA AHLBORN WEEKS AT WORSHIP OF late I listen to the sacred word With all my soul awake, alert that I May lose no syllable. But half I heard The message in the careless days gone by ; But now so earnest has my life become, So frail am I to meet the combat stern, I can but sit in expectation dumb That from God's manual some hint I learn To lead me safely on. O word of truth, Unfold thy mystery to my delight, Be of the larger life perpetual sooth ; So shall I walk by faith and not by sight, And in serenity reproach endure, Since in eternal praise I rest secure. [93] THE POEMS OF THY WILL BE DONE THY will be done. I choose it joyously, Not as a slave that must. What seemeth good To me, perhaps is ill, misunderstood. Thou only knowest what develops me Like yonder heavenward-striving tree : It utilizes its environment ; Its mighty roots are darkly downward sent, Its top to all the sun's influence free. Thy will be done ! I, too, will drink the cup, E'en though in pain I pray that it may pass ; For still the heartless priest and jeering mass Through sacrifice are moved and lifted up ; And whoso grips some truth, with it achieves The courage to maintain, to die with thieves. [94] IDA AHLBORN WEEKS INTERPRETATION OLOVE, thou hast interpreted to me The poets whom I read for many years, And to whose songs I gave both smiles and tears ; I seemed a child that looks upon the sea Responding half in wonder, half in glee ; But now the verse its inner sense appears, The soul that all the body fair endears, And binds me to perpetual fealty. O love, I knew thy treasures were supreme, But this is wondrous that the key to art Fits in the casket of the human heart ; That feeling is the central force and fire, The fact, while all else is a shadowy dream, A mist that mounts in sunlight to expire. [95] THE POEMS OF LOVE'S VICTORY WHEN Portia won the trial in the court, Then love was victor over selfish gain For him the argosies traverse the main To gather wealth from many an alien port ; For him on the Bialto men consort In eager competition to obtain The ducats for his need all traffic's pain Is but to furnish love in proper sort. O love, for thee we toil, for thee we die ; Thy smile, however late, is recompense For every labor, every hazard run ; To perish in the life-sustaining sun Is better than in darkness long and dense, Amid the pale and timid hosts to lie. [96] IDA AHLBOKN WEEKS O, KADIANT LIGHT OF LOVE ! I SOUGHT no counsel from the sons of men, But silently the struggle ran its course : I sank to deeps beneath despair, remorse, To rise and sink again and yet again ; The world that men esteem so fair and good, Of all the joys of sense the ample source, Was burnt to ashes in the flaming force To which my life became as resinous wood. But from the deeps I rose, from ashes gray I sprang, no more to wave and flame a prey : The counsel from within and from above Has led to thee, O, radiant light of love, And now, responsive to the wooing day, Behold the life I almost doubted of. [97] THE POEMS OF PERSONALITY LOVE comes and leaves us nevermore the same ; It is the chisel's blow that sets us free The statue of our personality Behold ! The wall of public praise and blame Is left behind as if an empty frame : We stand alone, enabled now to see That love achieves this silent victory For all who love in deed as well as name. Distinct and clear and free at last from all The semblance of support, the life acquires The sense of earth down to her inward fires, The sense of heaven beyond the summit tall The vision that surmounts the final wall Where soul to soul responds in pure desires. [98] IDA AHLBOJRN WEEKS WITHOUT HASTE THERE is no haste in love : it has all time, And speed that mocks the swiftness of the light; No loss it knows, nor need to expedite Its message ; and, secure in faith sublime, It spreads no net, it strows no snaring lime. What need has it for wiles that to the night Belong ? It is the sum of human right, And unassailable as in its prime. i O heart impatient, fearful lest delay May hazard that which is of dateless years, Let love but have an undisputed sway ; There is more wisdom in its silent tears, Than in all maxims that the traitor fears Have whispered to thy pain the livelong day. [99] THE POEMS OF IN THE FOKEST TO breathe into these lines the spirit calm That rests upon this forest dense and old, Were fit return for all the healing balm That here I found without the cost of gold ; For I, a creature worn with many a toil, And sick at heart with doubtings manifold, I wandered here, I blent into the wold, And like a tree drew vigor from the soil. O forest, fare thee well ! Again I turn To human scenes ; and yet between us twain A bond exists : the memory of me Is thy possession, wrought into thy grain ; And I, how oft when city pavements burn, Shall feel the shade, the atmosphere of thee ! [100] IDA AHLBORN WEEKS IN OPEN AIR "Flieh' ! Auf ! Hinaus in's weite Land ! "Goetht. IN open air, there am I brave and free, And liefest there would I await, receive A message weird and wondrous to believe : As to that English king, it seems to me, Less danger comes to men from sorcery In open field than palaces inside, Let Augustine, the royal hall denied, On Thanet's isle expound his mystery. In open air my spirit urges, Go ! The earth, if green or brown, will banish care ; The spell that narrow walls about me wove, The winds afar in mockery will blow, While I, serenely glad and unaware, Imbibe the strength for which I vainly strove. [101] THE POEMS OF THE POET TO THE EEADER i I SEEK for thee : there are no deeps, no heights I would not cross for thee to whom my song Is life and power. When thy emotions throng From inner fountains that the worldling slights, Then, if a note of mine should make thee strong To vindicate thy bosom's sacred rights Ah ! that were joy to match the high delights That thrill the singer in the hour of song. There is no melody that can endure Except it save a soul. To win reward So great is worth all agony, all scorn ; To fail thereof far better never born "Were that vain wretch whom jingling words allure To sell, Iscariot-like his Christ and Lord. [102] IDA AHLBORN WEEKS THE HEADER TO THE POET ii MY soul O poet, goes in search of thee Who comest unto me with message high ; Fear not the world's neglect, I shall not die Till thou hast sung thy secret into me : Two souls that seek each other earnestly May all the jeering, flippant world defy ; For on such search the deep foundations lie Of all that rises into victory. Sing on ! While air is here to bear away Thy notes, the ample argument of song Is thine. The strains that to thyself belong I shall in season hear, since I obey Emotion's law, from which all songs arise As vapors mounting to the summer skies. [103] THE POEMS OF THE SONNET THE heart of Bruce, the noble Douglas bore In combat with the Saracenic foe ; He flung the precious casket far before And wrought the Moslem rout and overthrow For still the heart of Bruce, renowned of yore, Its ancient valor kept and fiery glow, And where it fell amid the combat's roar, There lay the Moors in mortal anguish low. And thou, O sonnet, art the golden vase, In which full many a poet locks his heart, The heart that in the battle's fiercest place Achieves a victory beyond all art ; For still the heart retains its primal might To put the foes of love and song to flight. [104] IDA AHLBORN WEEKS EENTJKCIATION WHEN" ruin seemed to close my life around In waves of wild and overwhelming might, There came a rock, a beckoning rock, in sight ; It rose from deeps serene because profound ; My drowning soul beheld it with delight ; "Saved! saved!" I cried. Against that lofty rock The waves may beat, they cannot merge or shock, There shalt thou find, O soul of mine, respite. And on that rescue-rock did I remain Until my soul did larger rescue know : No more a victim to the selfish floods, I walk the garden where the lilies blow, I feel the life within the growing buds, And hear the bluebird warbling down the lane. [105] THE POEMS OF PROGRESS LONG years men trafficked on an ancient deep : Here sailed their vessels rich in spice and ore, In gleaming gems and silks that monarchs wore ; From Araby, from Egypt, India, did they reap The harvests of the mountain, plain, and vale, The myrrh and corn, the figs and rice and wine, While hidden lay the vast Pacific brine, Unploughed by keel and unadorned by sail. Oh ! slowly do we come to know the globe To-day through Panama we dig our way ; O'er mind and matter is our boasted sway Imperfect still, a pauper's dingy robe When shall we don the purple of a king, And know to live, and, living, know to sing. [106] IDA AHLBORN WEEKS VINDICATION THY cause is just ? Fear no detraction then ; Though thou art stung to pain by cruel speech, By scoff, by silence of the better men ; Be thou unmoved, since time is apt to teach The meaning of thine act, and vindicate Thy justly chosen course. Malicious lies, Insinuations all the brood of hate, Time can remove, whatever their disguise. For righteousness is at the heart of all, And of its triumph cannot fail. Who keeps This faith speeds not upon detraction's call To his defense ; but more his being steeps In truth ; for, in due season, at a bar All men appear, not what they seem, but are. [107] WAITING I WAIT : there comes a time when naught remains But to endure and wait ; and, in that pause, That enforced idleness, the hidden cause Of much illuding all my toil and pains Is manifest. The force that silent reigns Grows audible, the while the loud applause That seemingly enacts, repeals the laws, Is caught and lost in far and high refrains. My life ascends to perfect harmony : I am no more an isolated note, but part Of a triumphant song, a rhapsody That rises from all nature, through all man, The fabric of a great musician's art, Conceived in sacrifice Promethean. [108] IDA AHLBORN WEEKS Juvenile Verse "ME. TEN MINUTES" THERE once was a prince, and he always would pray For ten minutes more ; Whenever too sleepy a word e'en to say, He would hold up his hands in a comical way : So " Mr. Ten Minutes," the name that he bore. The prince grew a man and a warrior bold In African clime ; But he tarried ten minutes! His comrades have told How the Zulus came down like the wolf on the fold: Life, honor, and all for ten minutes of time. THE POEMS OF WHEN BABY LEAKNED TO WALK WHEN Baby learned to walk He went along the wall, By tables and by chairs, Afraid to get a fall. I almost thought that he Might have a coward heart, And always with the boys I'd have to take his part. One afternoon when we Were in the room alone, He stepped out from that wall, His eyes like diamonds shone, And he could walk for good ! I tell you he's the kind ; He waits, but just look out When he's made up his mind. [no] IDA AHLBORN WEEKS THE CKADLE SONG MY mother sings a cradle song ; I see no reason why ! For I am going now on five, And maybe three feet high ! So soft and sleepy is the song I almost close my eyes ; It seems to me it must be made Of all the lullabies. [in] THE POEMS OF THE ENSIGN-BEAKER OF FONTENOY HAVE you heard of this valiant youth, Cassibianca's mate ? He trumpets to all the truth " Stand, whatever your fate." A line of his regiment fell, And he on his horse alone, Erect and immovable As a statue carved of stone ! Not to flinch and still to hold His standard up was all That the ensign had been told, And all that he could recall. A dash, and his friends appear And wrapping him in his flag To the king with many a cheer And many a word of brag ! " Lieutenant," upon the spot But that's nor here nor there ; To stand in one's appointed lot Is a fact for everywhere. [112] IDA AHLBORN WEEKS MYRTLE'S SONG ; T TP and up the marble steps ! " ^-' Little Myrtle sings ; Song, you know, has power to lend To a climber wings. And the " marble steps " ? a hill White with lime and clay, That the little maiden climbs On her schoolward way ! Once she heard a fairy-tale, Marble steps that shone ; Fairy she herself to change Common mire and stone Into marble, and forget As she skips along, All the steepness of the hill In her fairy song. THE POEMS OF A BUSY SATUKDAY ONE Saturday when Alice Was at our house to play, It seemed that every person Thought we were in the way. "We went out in the kitchen, And begged to bake a cake ; But cook said, " I'm too busy, Go 'way for goodness sake ! " We asked our Aunt Eugenia To tell a fairy-tale. " I'm sorry, but my letters Must go by early mail." Now, surely Sister Mabel Will play a merry tune ; She crocheted on and answered, " Some other afternoon." IDA AHLBORN WEEKS We tried to make a seesaw Beneath the maple-tree ; But Grandpa said right sharply, " Just let my lumber be ! " In Mother's room with dollies We settled down to play ; For there we found a welcome That busy Saturday. PRIMROSE HILL ON Primrose Hill there is a store, And there I bought to-day A handsome carpet (made of moss) And gave a leaf for pay. On Primrose Hill the store belongs To Alice, John, and Clair ; Such bargains I have never known At Field's or anywhere ! THE POEMS OF SUDDEN HEALING WITH solemn sigh a little maid Sat by her dolly's bed : " She's very sick ; I'm 'fraid she has New money in her head. " Her mother's sick besides," she said, And heaved a deeper sigh : " It's information of the heart, And often people die." Just then the doctor came with pills,- He looked like brother Hugh And doll and mother in a flash "Were just as good as new. [116] IDA AHLBORN WEEKS THE DEAREST OF ALL THERE was a rag doll ; It was clumsy and big, No eyes to see with, Nor a hair of a wig. But the dearest of all May's children five Was the doll that came out Of each trouble alive. So, whatever you get In China or France To open its eyes, To cry and to dance, Just add a rag doll To stand all the strain Of play and parade, Of sunshine and rain. THE POEMS OF THE THUNDER SIDE A LITTLE boy and girl -tJL One day together sat, And from the window watched The storm they wondered at. Estella next the pane, In sudden terror cried, "Whereon upspake Eugene, " I'll take the thunder side. "IN THE CUSHION" THERE'S a little girl who sews. "When she makes her dolly's clothes, Then the needles disappear From the cushion by the row ; Yet if questioned, " Where, my dear, Are the needles ? " she replies, " In the cushion ! " and I fear That some needles without eyes, But with heads to make them wise, "Will her ladyship surprise. [118] IDA AHLBORN WEEKS "OVEK ONE AND UNDER TWO" one and under two" Is the braider's law ; Thus she makes a shining band Of the golden straw. " Over one and under two," On the left, the right ; Seven strands are in the braid, Seven hues, in the light. " Over one and under two," Dampen, press, and sew : There's a hat to shield the curls And the face below. THE POEMS OF A WONDERFUL BASKET NOT of willow, not of straw, Was the basket that I made ; Do you think you ever saw Such an easy, pretty braid ? " Splints of hickory ? " O no ! Neither " rushes," neither " cane " ; Burs together, row on row, From the bur-dock in the lane. Then I set it on my head, As I saw old Dinah do ; And I wished that I was dead 'Fore the combing half was through. [120] IDA AHLBOEN WEEKS THE INNKEEPER'S DAUGHTER MY own dear father keeps the inn In the town of Bethlehem ; And pious guests are often there, Who seek Jerusalem. And once at evening came a pair " No room," my father said, Although I whispered very low, " 111 spare my little bed." My mother died when I was born ; I saw her in the eyes Of Mary as she stroked My hair in mother- wise. And all that night I dreamed and dreamed Of a garden large and fair Where children played, and mothers sat With roses in their hair. [121] THE POEMS OF I hurried out to feed my lamb When it was hardly day ; And in our manger, O how sweet ! A little baby lay. And men were there who looked as wise As readers of the law ; But just the mother and the child Were all I really saw. My own dear father keeps the inn In the town of Bethlehem ; And guests but none like these still come, Who seek Jerusalem. [122] IDA AHLBORN WEEKS WHERE DOES THE ICE GO ? WHERE does the ice go to ? The baby wished to know. " It melts," says Aunt Lenore. But still, " Were do it go ? " " See, yonder is the sun, And when his eye so bright Looks on the ice, it runs To hide away from sight." The baby laughs in glee, Looks at the shining sun, Then at the ice and says, " Oo better 'gin to yun 1 " THE POEMS OF SLEEP, MY BABY, SLEEP SLEEP, my baby, sleep. The wind blows from the South On baby's hair and mouth ; Its breath is soft and cool ; It sings of rest and sleep, Of mosses rich and deep Beside a forest pool. Sleep, my baby, sleep. Sleep, my baby, sleep. Across the golden wheat The wind blows low and sweet ; It sings a pleasant song, It tells of happy feasts For man and bird and beasts All the snowy winter long. Sleep, my baby, sleep. [124] IDA AHLBORN WEEKS SLUMBEK SONG TO Bylo land, My baby, go ! There children stand Hand in hand And row on row In the happy Bylo land. Hush, my baby, go. There the little Esquimau From his home in the snow Meets the little maid From the palmy shade. Hush, my baby, go. Mates from every clime, Waiting for your sleepy time - " Come, O come," they say, " Come with us and play In the happy Bylo land, Where the children stand Hand in hand And row on row." Hush, my baby, go. THE POEMS OF A MAN OF MANY CLIMES ONCE a man roved to and fro, Wheresoe'er a man can go, And to places you and I "Would be sure to hurry by. Steam had borne him rapidly Over land and over sea ; And he caught just think of it ! Even lightning by the bit, And he drove that flashing steed Till one trembled at the speed. Oft he rode an elephant, Or a camel in Levant ; And Arabian horses ran Fast from Jof to Ispahan. Zebus drove him slowly on Through the groves of cinnamon. A jinrikishaw he hired, And he said he never tired Of the easy gait of man In the Island of Japan. [126] IDA AHLBORN WEEKS Dogs did draw him o'er the snow, Driven by the Esquimau. Why, this man of many lands, Every tongue he understands, So at once he's shaking hands, With a Moslem or a Jew, With a Frenchman or a Sioux, And he grows so intimate More than I would like to state. " What's the traveler's name ? " you say. Well, I learned it with dismay When I wandered far from home Through the ancient streets of Home When I read on his valise That he carries every trip " Property of Sir La Grippe." " Sir La Grippe," he coolly said, And I took at once to bed. [127] THE POEMS OF Quatrains TIME ENOUGH SAY not, " The time is all too brief ! "- Eternity is thine ; Upon that trellis, leaf by leaf, Ascends the human vine. THE CKITIO 'THHE walls about his life, JL They fell in crumbled heaps ; Now he has stones to throw At every one who peeps. PEIMAL NECESSITY A LITTLE tune to be alone For quiet talk with God, IDA AHLBORN WEEKS STRENUOUS LIFE YOUR strenuous life no more can please My soul is weary of the phrase ; I have great need of rest and ease, Of peace beyond the blame and praise. SUDDEN DEATH IT fell like lightning from the skies ; We huddled in a helpless heap, Like shivering, storm-bewildered sheep - O Death, how awful thy surprise ! A HOUSEHOLD PICTURE A MOTHER going to and fro, **- A fire in cheerful glow ; A simple table spread, A baby cooing in its bed. AT DAWN TO stand at dawn And hear the sable curtains drawn, While glory comes in view Across the east and shimmers in its dew ! [129] THE POEMS OF PURSUIT YOU wronged a man, and far away You went, to see him nevermore ! You lived serene until the day His friend stood knocking at your door. PRIMROSES SWEET primroses at fall of dew, A silent strain Of odor, form, and hue That haunts the bluff and plain. ELECTION DAY WE drive ! Come Jeanne and little Rus ; Let men uphold the state ; We drive and let them fume and fuss, Those masters of our fate. "THE REAL THING" I WOULD not paint a happiness I have not known ; Nor hew in marble a distress That's not mine own. [ 130] IDA AHLBORN WEEKS DESEKT DWELLERS I STRAYED into a desert place Oh ! what a group was there : A lion of majestic grace, A viper and a hare. A NATURE FAKER HE sat from Nature's life afar, Applauding her from rose to star ; The people, too, remote as he, Applauded his tomfoolery. ANTICIPATION FOREVERMORE my thoughts go on Beyond the present darkened way, To tread the summits of the dawn Where night in splendor dies away. ARISE ! ARISE ! the morning's sword of light Has smitten down rebellious haze ; And hark ! caparisoned for fight, Thy gallant charger champs and neighs. THE POEMS OF KANSAS SKIES IF skies of Hellas moved her bards to sing The songs that still adown the ages ring, O Kansas poets, lift to heaven your eyes ; How rare must be the verse to match your skies ! MATERIALISM WHY shouldst thou fear material trend ? The mother earth is warm and true ; All larger natures swerve and bend From nether green to upper blue. HIDDEN RESOURCES WITH buttons off what shall we do ? Of needles here is not a sign ; But squeeze the cushion, and in view Are needles plenty, coarse and fine. [132] IDA AHLBOKN WEEKS THE LITTLE ARMS ODEAR ! the little arms That draw us down to humble ways, Secure from high alarms We brood on childhood's holy days. THE SOLUTION HOW long I vexed myself to weigh The difference 'twixt right and wrong : Then rang a Voice all must obey, " Drop thou thy weights and sing thy song." RESIGNATION WHAT Thou givest I receive as well, What withholdest I would not compel ; For Thou only knowest, Thou alone, What for me is bread and what is stone. [US] THE POEMS OF WHO LOVES WHO loves will learn to know First rapture high, Then pain, whose overflow Is joy that cannot die. TO NATUKE HAVE I not loved thee long and well ? Nor have I prated in the crowd, And made my love a thing to sell To buy my soul a silken shroud. WILD FANCIES I FEEL her clinging to my gown, I hear her toddling feet ; Wild fancies that my reason drown, Wild fancies, yet how sweet ! INTERRUPTION I CLOSED the volume at a call, The wondrous story partly done ; And now I cannot find at all The haunting tale I had begun. [134] IDA AHLBORN WEEKS MY CHOICE O HEIGHTS serene I might have known ! O, shadowy hand from cloudy throne ! Yet I preferred the battle plain, Kepenting not though bullets rain. A PRAYER LET me not pass away and leave Unfinished what I have to do ; Direct me that I may achieve, And still my strength revive, renew. HOW FAR? HOW far can bells be heard ? The bells upon the car That brings you, mark my word I I hear afar, afar ! L'35] POEMS OF IDA AHLBORN WEEKS REST OLOVE, I rest in thee, Secure as on the sea The sea-gull poises there, At home on deep, in air. GREAT SOULS GREAT souls thrive everywhere, The task, the time, and place Transcending by a grace More subtle than the air. "I'M NOBODY "EMILY DICKINSON O EMILY, your rank attracts me so That in your company I fain would go ; We'll be a pair no heralds will pursue, And from the world we shall receive our due. [136] ., OF CALIF, LIBr.ABY,, LOS ANGEUBS