.3802A17 
 1912 

 
 THE LIBRARY 
 
 OF 
 
 THE UNIVERSITY 
 OF CALIFORNIA 
 
 LOS ANGELES
 
 POEMS 
 
 BY 
 
 CAMPBELL MASON
 
 POEMS 
 
 BY 
 
 CAMPBELL MASON 
 
 NEW YORK 
 
 THE COSMOPOLITAN PRESS 
 1912
 
 Copyright, 1912, by 
 
 The Coimopolitan Press
 
 TO 
 
 FLORENCE CARTIER
 
 CONTENTS 
 
 LOVE LYRICS 
 
 PAGE 
 
 Ax PARTING 7 
 
 THE RE-MEETING 8 
 
 THOSE WERE THE DAYS 10 
 
 I'VE COME TO SAY GOOD-BYE n 
 
 METAMORPHOSIS 12 
 
 PARALLEL ROADS 13 
 
 SHIP OF PASSIONATE THOUGHTS 14 
 
 THE GUIDING STAR 15 
 
 Au REVOIR, AUF WIEDERSEHEN, FAREWELL ... 15 
 
 AWAY, AWAY BEYOND THE GRAY HORIZON . . . 16 
 
 WHAT LIFE MEANS TO ME 17 
 
 THE CLOSED DOOR 18 
 
 WHEN THE DAWN COMES 19 
 
 A BOATING FANTASY 19 
 
 LIKE YOUR FACE EACH SEASON'S FLOWERS ... 20 
 
 IMPOSSIBILITIES 21 
 
 INTERCHANGEABILITY 22 
 
 THIS Is THE FLOWER You GAVE ME 23 
 
 SONNETS 
 
 THE LANGUAGE OF MEREDITH' 27 
 
 SHELLEY 27 
 
 ON READING DICKENS 28 
 
 MAURICE HEWLETT 28 
 
 THE BRIDAL WREATH 29 
 
 SERIOUS MELODIES 
 
 AGAMEMNON TO THE ASSEMBLED HEROES ... 33 
 
 LAST WORDS OF A KING OF SEA- VIKINGS .... 35 
 
 THE SONG OF OLD MEN 37
 
 CONTENTS 
 
 SERIOUS MELODIES (Continued) PAGE 
 
 A ROCKY MOUNTAIN SUNSET 38 
 
 NOBLESSE 39 
 
 JOHN HAY 40 
 
 OVERHEARD AT THE SHRINE 42 
 
 OH, How I GRIEVE FOR EVERY SUMMER .... 43 
 
 COURAGE 44 
 
 A SPRING SONG 44 
 
 THE HEART'S WINTER 45 
 
 DESTINY 45 
 
 HURRIED LINES WRITTEN IN AN OFFICE .... 46 
 
 THE MOUNTAIN KING 47 
 
 Low IN THE WEST CREEPS THE SUN 48 
 
 IGNIS FATUUS 48 
 
 WHEN LIFE WAS ALL A DREAM 49 
 
 INSCRUTABLE PROVIDENCE 50 
 
 A WINTER SCENE 50 
 
 "AyvwoTos S 1 
 
 THE SONG OF THE BELL 53 
 
 "CRAMMING" 54 
 
 THE TOREADOR 55 
 
 G^EA'S APOSTROPHE TO DIAN 56 
 
 THE ARISTOCRACY OF EASE 58 
 
 TREAD LIGHTLY ON THIS SPOT 60 
 
 SPECULATION 63 
 
 SONG TO PROMETHEUS IN WINTER 64 
 
 LIGHTER VERSE 
 
 LAMENT OF THE UNIVERSAL LOVER 67 
 
 SOCIETY'S REPLY 68 
 
 EILEEN 69
 
 LOVE LYRICS
 
 AT PARTING 
 
 I HAVE covered your body with kisses, 
 
 I have bathed that dear bosom in tears, 
 As we shared in our joys together, 
 
 As we shared in our griefs and our fears; 
 And the riddle is, which was the sweeter, 
 
 As visions of both will arise, 
 The pulsating charms of your Parian arms, 
 
 Or the sympathy there in your eyes. 
 
 For never depression had sought me, 
 
 But you had an anodyne near; 
 And never a head pillowed softer 
 
 On a breast so more splendidly dear; 
 And never swan eyes so effulgent, 
 
 Or hands fluttered tenderly, quite 
 I must not perpend, lest my reason have end, 
 
 An existence withouten your light. 
 
 If the earth had stood still in that heaven, 
 
 And, pausing, all time had destroyed, 
 That period could not have buried, 
 
 Those moments we two have enjoyed: 
 For they on their shimmering pinions, 
 
 Like birds on their own airs would rise, 
 To an inchoate clime, lacking nought but a time 
 
 To adjust orbit-paths in its skies. 
 
 Then these moments triumphant, remembered, 
 Not alone for their sweet, but their tears, 
 
 Its time would become and the minutes 
 Be magnified into its years; 
 7
 
 8 POEMS BY CAMPBELL MASON 
 
 For into one second of ours, 
 
 A world of exchanges was pressed, 
 Sufficing a year in a commoner sphere, 
 
 Or in a less sentient breast. 
 
 Or fell the last night on the planet, 
 
 Apart and yet straight would we hold, 
 From the others unseeing and frantic, 
 
 To the Judgment-Seat, jeweled and gold. 
 For your presence that emulates noonday, 
 
 Would light us a path thro' the gloom ; 
 The judged would wake, and your radiance take 
 
 For the light dawning bright after doom. 
 
 All too few that affinitive bosom 
 
 Discover, or know it when found 
 By the blindness of one unperceiving, 
 
 Or the other in diffidence bound: 
 But we knew it, and felt it, and proved it. 
 
 Where one blossom sprang saw we ten 
 And in ages unworn, when our souls are reborn, 
 
 We shall meet, and shall know it again. 
 
 THE RE-MEETING 
 
 WE have loved, we have tarried and parted, 
 
 We have drunk each of each to the dregs; 
 We have lived in a lifetime an hundred, 
 
 Till the Now of the Past mutely begs : 
 And the Future is dead as the Present, 
 
 If the Now is turned beggared away; 
 For the future can tone to the past all its own, 
 
 And make of the present its day.
 
 POEMS BY CAMPBELL MASON 9 
 
 At the behest of one high and mighty 
 
 You left me to sail overseas, 
 To learn how to rival the songsters 
 
 That carol in pullulate trees; 
 And the heights, once aspired and envied, 
 
 You won, and you left far behind 
 I toiled with mine own, lacking you, more than lone, 
 
 With a Fortune as bright, but less kind. 
 
 And the seconds and minutes and hours, 
 
 They glide in their pregnancy by, 
 A-sweeping you high to attainment 
 
 But, oh ! where am I, where am I ! 
 And expectant my ego stands striving 
 
 In vain hypoborean zones 
 To glimpse; oh, a balm patience has for the calm, 
 
 But her fetters ambition disowns. 
 
 And yet laurel-covered you seek me, 
 
 With beauty by triumph enhanced 
 So I can forget mine endeavor 
 
 To learn how yours can be advanced: 
 For greatly-receiving can balance 
 
 Accounts with who greatly bestows, 
 By striving to find the collateral kind 
 
 Of currency, welcome to those. 
 
 The sea of ambition is studded, 
 
 With sails of the argonauts fair; 
 And some of the argosies boldly 
 
 Flaunt pennants of ebony there : 
 So why on the struggle continue, 
 
 When pirates keep watch o'er the seas? 
 Ephemeral earth yielded me all her worth, 
 
 With your love so, then, what matters these?
 
 io POEMS BY CAMPBELL MASON 
 
 This haven familiar, this bosom, 
 
 This mould of my nocturnal self, 
 The syncope of our affection 
 
 Has rendered more precious than pelf. 
 The shallow may bleat for the recent 
 
 The new, love-untutored will pine, 
 But I'll have no new while the frequent is you, 
 
 For passion is mellowed like wine. 
 
 THOSE WERE THE DAYS 
 
 THOSE were the days the sun and the moon, 
 The morning, the night and the still afternoon; 
 The breath of the pines, and the breeze of the sea; 
 The god that was I, and the nymph that was thee. 
 
 Time was when on in the depths of the wild 
 
 Like a dryad you fled, and a challenge you smil'd : 
 
 As the God mad for Daphne, sped on by desire, 
 
 I'd o'ertake you, and there in Love's pow'r we'd expire. 
 
 The late summer sun ran his course overhead; 
 Unnoticed the stars in the skies reigned instead, 
 Ere we'd take our way back, where the eyes of the night 
 Could not witness the heav'n of our further delight. 
 
 Of Love we learnt love, when in mist she was born: 
 The first tingling shock of her primeval morn ; 
 The sum of her ecstatic raptures of eld 
 All their individual blisses we held. 
 
 We wove in our passion the sun and the moon; 
 Entwined our embrace with the slant afternoon: 
 The perfume of flowers, the breeze of the sea, 
 With the song of the birds, were attuned, Love, to Thee !
 
 POEMS BY CAMPBELL MASON n 
 
 O Love, known to Youth, to itself only true, 
 Untrammeled, intense, with no small ends in view 
 Oh, why is Time jealous to bring love an end, 
 When Hours, his daughters, are kind to befriend ! 
 
 I'VE COME TO SAY GOOD-BYE 
 
 I'VE come to say Good-bye, my love, 
 And from ourselves to screen us ; 
 
 For if I linger nigh, my love, 
 Will Folly come between us. 
 
 You understand why I would leave: 
 Not that I love you less, dear, 
 
 But that I prize you so, 'twould grieve 
 Me sore it to express, dear. 
 
 'Tis that I've learned to love too well 
 
 I had not come a-wooing, 
 Had I but known a woman's spell, 
 
 Could be my heart's undoing. 
 
 I thought the time more quick would fly 
 In Love's guise idly straying; 
 
 But how a heart which plays a part, 
 Becomes the part it's playing! 
 
 I thought to dally here awhile, 
 
 And go in ease forgetting; 
 I had not counted on your smile, 
 
 A sun on old worlds setting. 
 
 Necessity's not changed a whit 
 
 Intention only alters; 
 I needs must make the best of it, 
 
 Altho' my heart here falters.
 
 12 POEMS BY CAMPBELL MASON 
 
 Oh, I could love you on a crust ; 
 
 But loving so were losing. 
 To think ! I go because I must, 
 
 When I could go for choosing. 
 
 But counsel never spake in vain ; 
 
 The world was old a-borning; 
 And Love at evening oft was slain, 
 
 When need looked in at morning. 
 
 Farewell ! we've found that true love still 
 Makes sure of future blisses ; 
 
 'Tis madness else that slights the will, 
 And flies to kiss, then misses. 
 
 METAMORPHOSIS 
 
 WE may pine for the things that we haven't, 
 And of those that we like we may dream; 
 
 Yet we only can float thro' this humdrum 
 And greyish old world with the stream. 
 
 And our minds may resemble the starling, 
 That wings from the earth to the blue; 
 
 But back we must come to the mundane 
 And all things pertaining thereto. 
 
 Too late did I see her to own her 
 Too late did we each feel the spell, 
 
 For Life had already laid rigid 
 Our lines and our fealty as well. 
 
 So a man I must live in a man's world, 
 And, as others, grasp love while she flies ; 
 
 But the ache for the one that's denied me, 
 In a turbulent heart never dies.
 
 POEMS BY CAMPBELL MASON 13 
 
 And still daily the mask, long acquired, 
 
 Dissembling an outwardly calm, 
 We must wear and distill from forced laughter 
 
 The poison our souls to embalm. 
 
 How I sicken of all the dissembling, 
 And shrink from a world hard as steel. 
 
 Oh ! for once to ride forth on an impulse 
 And crush her with love that was real. 
 
 Oh, had I but the knowledge of godhead, 
 
 Or the secret of Life's alchemy, 
 This body the stars to-night shining 
 
 Transformed to a robin would see: 
 
 And then I would be friends with the morning, 
 And her fragrance would bear me aloft ; 
 
 And the swaying old elm would embower 
 My sleep, when the shadows fell soft: 
 
 And the maiden in yonder low farmhouse, 
 Whose eyes rival deepest blue skies, 
 
 In the morn I would wake with glad music, 
 And at dusk I would list to her sighs. 
 
 PARALLEL ROADS 
 
 ( 
 OUR fates lie tangent to the end, 
 
 And never a meeting show; 
 My thoughts surge warm 'neath the mask of friend, 
 
 Belying that name of snow. 
 
 My word unto another's pledged; 
 
 And only my word I own: 
 But now my soul in its growth, full-fledged, 
 
 Will never a lie condone.
 
 14 POEMS BY CAMPBELL MASON 
 
 Oh ! what are walls twix lips of fire, 
 
 To duties and vows that rend 
 Fond hearts from heaven and earthly desire? 
 
 And smile as you can a Friend ! 
 
 SHIP OF PASSIONATE THOUGHTS 
 
 My thoughts take ship and o'er your perfect bosom 
 sail; 
 
 My hopes take wing and heavenward are in flight; 
 
 My heart is new for just one glimpse of light; 
 My lips are dumb, for language proves of no avail. 
 
 I must unlearn the old and find some higher lore 
 To scale the heights on which your beauty lives : 
 Such glory to the heart its message gives. 
 
 My eyes are closed mere sight can understand no 
 more. 
 
 Deep in the heart oft wells a strain of melting tone, 
 But which the mind cannot translate to earth ; 
 With my whole being do I feel your worth, 
 
 Yet I have not a medium to make it known. 
 
 My soul, new found, is cradled in your mystic eyes; 
 My thoughts are pilgrims bound unto your shrine: 
 And, leaving me, they are no longer mine 
 
 My thought my soul, my hope within your power 
 lies. 
 
 This night's a gem, and from all others radiant 
 gleams 
 
 Lack-lustre they in that they held not you. 
 
 My mind is touched with Fancy's ruddy hue 
 I cannot think in thoughts, I can but think in dreams,
 
 POEMS BY CAMPBELL MASON 15 
 
 THE GUIDING STAR 
 
 "Is she real is she real ? " to my soul I cried : 
 
 And my soul answered back, " As a star, 
 That high in the heavens doth gleam for thee, 
 
 As dazzling, as bright, as far ! " 
 "Is she good, is she kind?" the oracle said, 
 
 "Can bodies celestial be ought? 
 A star and a goddess can do no wrong 
 
 Her kindness is given if sought ! " 
 
 Then straight I'll build me an altar and incense 
 
 I'll burn, and I'll load it with myrrh; 
 I'll be suppliant, priest, and acolyte, 
 
 And sacrifice daily to her. 
 As a mariner with eye on Areas fixt, 
 
 Steering over a troubled sea, 
 My gaze on a brighter star shall be, 
 
 And I will be guided by thee ! 
 
 AU REVOIR, AUF WIEDERSEHEN, FAREWELL 
 
 You said, " Farewell " and added, " Au revoir " 
 That night I gave you all my heart's devoir. 
 You trembled as you sighed, " Farewell " ah, me ! 
 That fare is well that fares me back to thee. 
 
 The one to French hearts sends a chastened pain ; 
 The like to Teutons' gives " auf weidersehen " ; 
 B'Ut oh ! what agony does that word spell 
 The Anglo-Saxon lover's heart " farewell ! "
 
 16 POEMS BY CAMPBELL MASON 
 
 There's not a hope I breathe, but hopes for thee ; 
 But Hope's a ship that sails uncertain sea; 
 And where Hope flies, he sends back no report: 
 We must ourselves lay siege before the court. 
 
 So I return, 1 ("farewell" gives that permit,) 
 And watch your hopes, to learn the way they flit; 
 And if they intercept not mine, I'll search 
 And capture all, and teach them where to perch! 
 
 AWAY, AWAY BEYOND THE GRAY HORIZON 
 IN THE WEST 
 
 AWAY, away beyond the gray horizon in the West 
 There is an isle of all isles the blest; 
 All thro' my dreams I saw it floating on a purple sea, 
 And thro' them Love a message bore to me. 
 
 I sailed ! and by the memory of that rosy dream I 
 
 steered ; 
 
 I sailed! and the sea-isle of my dream I neared: 
 And guided only by that ardent token starred above, 
 When day was quenched in shadow and in love. 
 
 My snowy sails across the billows quickly bore me 
 
 hence; 
 
 And those rare perfumes of my dream from thence 
 Afar-off welcome me; and in the gentle tepor where 
 The semi-tropics gleamed, I sought her there. 
 
 Like in my dream, on shore she stood, her arms out- 
 stretched to me 
 
 The cypress grove enamored of the sea, 
 
 Its amethyst shade caressing her she smiled the 
 smile I dreamed: 
 
 The sea and heavens also smiling seemed. . . .
 
 POEMS BY CAMPBELL MASON 17 
 
 My sea-isle Dream ! my sea-isle Beam ! the star that 
 
 guided me, 
 
 That Star of Love, that trailed the way to thee, 
 Into its vernal orbit now, doth sigh in lyric strain, 
 And argent sails my sea-isle seek again. 
 
 Once more I come ! and in the cool of cypress shades 
 
 I stroll 
 
 With thee, while on unceasing billows roll. 
 No more I'll face the orient sun to seek her vasty 
 
 shore 
 My sea-isle Dream I'll hold for ever more. 
 
 WHAT LIFE MEANS TO ME 
 
 WHAT does Life mean to me? 
 It means when the day is done, 
 But a pair of gleaming arms! 
 And freedom from self on a breast 
 Beating joy, or whose quiet is rest: 
 This meaning is more clear to me 
 Than that of the course I run, 
 Or the precepts of the psalms. 
 
 And life means this in the morn 
 And I feel as some light new-born, 
 When the glitter of dew 
 Is abroad with the new 
 Night-forstered wild-flower scents: 
 And the knowledge that near arouind, 
 The dense stir of man can be found, 
 Is zephyred from mind 
 By the flower-loved wind, 
 That's born where the nature-child tents.
 
 i8 POEMS BY CAMPBELL MASON 
 
 And it means at noon all this to me, 
 
 When my god and my life overhead, 
 
 In his heated orb, 
 
 All the mists absorb, 
 
 And his clouds are weaving ahead 
 
 To cool on the morrow the lea : 
 
 It means but a swinging bed under the pines, 
 
 With crystals of aqua afloat in the wines, 
 
 And a life that is free, 
 
 And a love that is Thee ! 
 
 And when the occidental sun 
 
 Has turned the sky into a nun, 
 
 And her rosary 
 
 She tells to me 
 
 Let nunneries their nuns secrete, 
 
 And let my thoughts and steps be fleet 
 
 The tender one and dear to greet; 
 
 As thro' the even new we stroll, 
 
 Her deepest eyes into my soul ; 
 
 And impulses and beating heart 
 
 That throb for me, with arms apart 
 
 Dear, sculptured havens for me made, 
 
 When all the world is drowned in shade. 
 
 THE CLOSED DOOR 
 
 IT is useless to deny you, 
 
 For your spell is round me yet; 
 
 Though the love I gave passed by you, 
 And I struggled to forget. 
 
 But my thoughts come crowding o'er me, 
 Though I've tried to close the gate 
 
 God have pity! still before me 
 Looms the face I've tried to hate.
 
 POEMS BY CAMPBELL MASON 19 
 
 Lips that seemed a red carnation 
 I have sipped their honied death; 
 
 And a subtle distillation 
 
 Was the mystery of your breath. 
 
 Oh ! the passion that I brought you, 
 And the dreams I dreamed by day ! 
 
 Ah, to think ! a strong love sought you, 
 And was rudely turned away. 
 
 WHEN THE DAWN COMES 
 
 ALL in a bright and rosy dawning, 
 
 All in a fresh bediamoned morn, 
 While yet the slanting rays of sunburst 
 
 Floated on the scented airs, new born ; 
 And the lark, first harbinger of daylight, 
 
 As shooting up on glossy wings, 
 Pours forth his artless welcome gladly, 
 
 Ever higher sailing as he sings. 
 
 So to my heart she brought the sunlight 
 
 So to my soul the morning brought ; 
 And like the lark, my love soared upwards 
 
 To meet the light I long had sought. 
 And thro' the night of years the music 
 
 Of her pure being echoed thro' ; 
 While swift the dawn of her affection 
 
 Woke dulcet strains of rapture new ! 
 
 A BOATING FANTASY 
 
 OVER the waters gliding, with the orb of night abiding, 
 
 On the soft-heaving breast of the stream; 
 
 With a maiden bright to love you, and the twinkling 
 
 stars above you 
 If ever in life a dream there be this is my dream, my 
 
 dream.
 
 20 POEMS BY CAMPBELL MASON 
 
 We start our canoe where the river and streams 
 
 Mingle together to murmur the themes 
 
 Of the woodland, heard babbling along; 
 
 And we drift with the tide, in a rhythmic glide, 
 
 Like a song lover's song: 
 
 Till we float 'round the bend of the widening river, 
 
 Where the trees on the shore in the zephyrs quiver, 
 
 Then we skim on the lake in a silvery wake, 
 
 And drift thro' the night, like a bird's leisured flight, 
 
 All the Summer night long. 
 
 And the lake mirrored lake, its calm bosom we break 
 
 As its moon-loved expanse we explore; 
 
 With the night fragrant night, at its most perfumed 
 
 height, 
 Scented by wild flow'rs ashore. 
 
 So we glide gently glide, with the tide flowing 
 
 tide, 
 
 And if ever a dream there be, 
 This is my dream my mid-summer dream 
 With the bright stars above, and the maiden I love 
 On the lake's placid bosom to be. 
 And I would that my life, sans all trouble and strife, 
 Could always be half so free. 
 
 LIKE YOUR FACE EACH SEASON'S FLOWERS 
 
 LIKE your face each season's flowers 
 
 I have seen it once in tears, 
 Violet, bathed in dewy showers, 
 
 Jewel of the springing years.
 
 POEMS BY CAMPBELL MASON 21 
 
 I have seen it wreathed in gladness, 
 
 Rosy as the bud of June; 
 There, a columbine soft sadness 
 
 Vigiling the pallid moon. 
 
 Oft the gay and warm alluring 
 
 Of the gladiola there; 
 Flower-maid for me enduring, 
 
 Flower-love to me how fair ! 
 
 IMPOSSIBILITIES 
 
 I CANNOT bring you costly blooms; 
 
 I cannot drive you forth in state; 
 I cannot bring you from the looms 
 
 Their priceless weaves, of hues ornate, 
 To drape that lovely form. 
 
 I cannot cover you with gems, 
 That I've seen sparkle on that snow; 
 
 Nor can I crown with diadems 
 That lustrous hair that bind me so 
 Within its meshy storm. 
 
 I cannot think that Plutus holds 
 The mystery within those eyes: 
 
 Yet Reason rocks when he enfolds 
 That loveliness, as rightful prize, 
 Complacent, smug and dumb. 
 
 I cannot bear you overseas, 
 
 In floating palaces of steel. 
 But some day you may tire of these, 
 
 And wake to wish to thrill and feel 
 Love's touch, then bid me come.
 
 22 POEMS BY CAMPBELL MASON 
 
 INTERCHANGEABILITY 
 (Suggested by the loveliness of 
 
 COULD the lilt of the bulbul be liquefied, 
 Or the madrigals of canaries distilled, 
 
 Or the pearl-notes of robins and thrushes redyed 
 To Olympian nectar, that gods have enthrilled 
 
 I would quaff not of these when the toxicant rare 
 
 Of thy lips I could pilfer, so delicate fare. 
 
 If all of the flashes, scintillant and rare, 
 Of all of the brilliants in Gaea that hide, 
 
 And the softening lustres testaceans bear 
 In their caskets that deep in the seas abide, 
 
 Were into one poem of light to arise, 
 
 'Twould be as the moon to the sun in thine eyes. 
 
 If all of the south-airs from blossoming field, 
 That call into life the song of the lark 
 
 If the flowers themselves were their essence to yield, 
 That my senses did never such beauty remark, 
 
 A quintessence of all would but be an alloy 
 
 To the garden that is in thy hair, my Joy! 
 
 If from all that is beauty and all that is fair, 
 Could some exquisite Galatea be born, 
 
 With the zephyr for breath, an ideal so rare, 
 That had failed e'en the poet's full mind to adorn, 
 
 Nor could envy my heart for Pygmalion feel, 
 
 When I drink of thy charms, till with excess I reel.
 
 POEMS BY CAMPBELL MASON 23 
 
 THIS IS THE FLOWER YOU GAVE ME 
 
 THIS is the flower you gave me, 
 
 Plucked from its lowly bed 
 To my pleadings, a light kiss as sequel, 
 
 Then like a gazelle from me fled, 
 In frightened confusion and blushes 
 
 You sped thro' the slant afternoon, 
 'Cross the garden redolent of lilac, 
 
 In that whilom, sweet blossoming June. 
 
 These pages betwix have enfolded 
 
 This blossom you gave me that day, 
 As I yearned to impress you so closely, 
 
 When from me you fluttered away. 
 Months years have elapsed since that twilight, 
 
 (Ah, the thought still is lilac-perfumed!) 
 And I o'er the wide world have wandered, 
 
 By your haste and your diffidence doomed: 
 But e'er thro' my dreams was the music 
 
 (Like robin's first pellucid strain) 
 Of thy voice, wafted over and over, 
 
 Till my steps sought thy bower again. 
 
 Then my heart felt as earth looks in Springtime' 
 
 In the May, lilac month of the year; 
 Nay, my heart, my whole being seemed pregnant 
 
 With a hope that shall live or die here. 
 In my dreams, said I? and in my wakings, 
 
 Thy words and thy form did confuse, 
 As a glimpse of some houri celestial, 
 
 Which I felt, that I grasped for to lose ! 
 
 And my passions and faculties teeming, 
 
 As I opened these leaves and beheld 
 Your present, sweet gift from the garden, 
 
 Which I fancied your favor impelled
 
 24 POEMS BY CAMPBELL MASON 
 
 Would blot out all else save your image, 
 And my thoughts, as my steps, flew to thee, 
 
 Only faster incredibly faster, 
 For my pace covered ocean and lea. 
 
 It mattered not whither my footsteps 
 
 Itinerant turned to the West, 
 To the South, or the East, or the North 
 
 For my mind and my body no rest. 
 In the land of perpetual snows, 
 
 In the land of undying sun, 
 Did thy memory e'er like a phantom precede 
 
 My steps, till the journey was done. 
 
 And now at your side 'mong the lilacs, 
 
 As erstwhile I wander again, 
 And my anguish and passion as sunlight 
 
 Is clear, say it be not in vain! 
 For the scent of the lilacs inflame me, 
 
 As the perfume that floats from your hair 
 Oh ! your bosom is heaving you love me ! . . 
 
 Let me rest my head evermore there.
 
 SONNETS
 
 THE LANGUAGE OF MEREDITH 
 
 THE finished vehicle, " the gath'ring, choice, 
 Of languages," the crown of human speech: 
 How he doth shape it to the use of each 
 
 And roll its music to some fair god's voice. 
 
 Those mental phantoms, that to words are sealed, 
 Which we can feel but give no body to, 
 Those vague, dim images that flitter thro' 
 
 The region of "fine shades," stand forth revealed. 
 
 Interpretative wizardry supreme 
 
 Nought's hidden from your comprehensive art ; 
 
 Surprising thought itself you give it form; 
 And diff'rences too delicate to seem 
 To have existence even in the Heart, 
 Here find expression tangible and warm. 
 
 SHELLEY 
 
 ACTAEON-LIKE thou'st looked on Beauty nude 
 But yet more fortunate, and showed her where 
 Her quarry lay. And Titan on the bare 
 
 Caucasian mount a while of blind ingratitude 
 
 Wert banished, by the jealous pow'rs that stood 
 Before the gates of Light; but ent'ring there 
 While stupor glazed their eyes, you caught the flare, 
 
 And bore to earth, which to a beacon woo'd. 
 
 None saw thee die in sooth thou didst not die; 
 But Cleobis to blest Elysium, 
 
 Unconscious of all pain, wert carried thence, 
 By all-approving Juno from on high, 
 
 For filial bearing Truth, when she would come 
 To temple in men's souls thy recompense. 
 27
 
 28 POEMS BY CAMPBELL MASON 
 
 ON READING DICKENS 
 
 AFFIXED with th' seal, the same as scriptures e'en, 
 All prophet-writ, inspired from on high, 
 Surcharged with forces that can never die 
 
 As patent to posterity, as green 
 
 As days that hath the blest transcription seen; 
 And to Affliction, in her grief doth lie 
 Divinest comfort; to the kindly eye 
 
 Of Happiness, a joy most sweet and keen. 
 
 Speak'st thou of tears, the tears immediate flow; 
 And be there sympathy within thy heart, 
 Then is the soul of sympathy laid bare: 
 Or humor lurking on Dan Cupid's bow 
 You spy and joy, and roguishly impart 
 To a ready world, the blest infection there! 
 
 MAURICE HEWLETT 
 
 I KNOW you not your bulk, your self, your mien 
 Your less persona know I not, nor care ; 
 But that which animates the mold the fair, 
 
 Your greater all-emblazoning the keen 
 
 Yet soft-insighted kinship with the green 
 And fragrant nature, and her workings there 
 In human breasts, your most peculiar care, 
 
 I know. This all of you I've met, serene, 
 
 This only consequential, in the white, 
 The silent forum-square of harnessed thought: 
 
 Before that You I've sat far in the night, 
 
 And learned some simple truths the difference 
 
 made ; 
 Truths, which in their simplicity would aught 
 
 Had been o'erlooked but for your timely aid.
 
 POEMS BY CAMPBELL MASON 29 
 
 THE BRIDAL WREATH 
 
 SWEET oranges, tart apples and ripe pears 
 
 All luscious fruits this wreath its presage makes; 
 From this, your bridal eve, its symbol takes 
 
 Of fruits unstinted, perfect wedlock bears. 
 
 But ware the weeds insidious and tares, 
 Which in the Garden sep'rate interest wakes 
 Of rapid growth, until their vile weight breaks 
 
 The shoots, which crave but sun and fost'ring airs. 
 
 One love-plant in the garden of two hearts 
 Well nurtured, in the seasons' round, creates 
 
 A paradise of undreamed, flow'ring trees ; 
 Each in its fruit, a new-found joy imparts 
 Some tart, of blessed sting, the predicates 
 Of those more frequent joys which nod with Ease.
 
 SERIOUS MELODIES
 
 AGAMEMNON TO THE ASSEMBLED HEROES 
 
 COMRADES, defenders of the common hearth, 
 Assembled heroes of our scattered tribes, 
 A common cause has made us brothers more 
 An alien insult to resent as one. 
 'Tis not so much the prize we would regain 
 For that belonged but to a single one 
 The crime concerns us all: an alien race 
 Spits venom in our face beneath a guise 
 Of Friendship, and hurls defiance light 
 In broad abuse of hospitality. 
 
 We're not a race to sit supinely by 
 
 And see our high prerogatives denied, 
 
 Or honor trampled, with impunity ; 
 
 For are we not of kings, and kings ourselves, 
 
 With whom our fathers when the Age was Gold, 
 
 The gods themselves on equal terms have striven? 
 
 There is an instinct in the most of us 
 That holds some things as sacred, and not we 
 Alone, but all the world some similar view, 
 Hold fast; and as the world grows on become 
 Our morals : those things that our kind 
 Are not to do the codes drawn up by one consent, 
 Or laws, or actions, speech, or thoughts in negative: 
 For what 's devised and which expedient, 
 According as the aging years have ordered 
 For common weal, to these we all subscribe. . . . 
 Our usages have here transgressed been 
 So foul th' evasion to our practised aims, 
 That Vengeance in her majesty stands up 
 And points the way to wrong. 
 
 33
 
 34 POEMS BY CAMPBELL MASON 
 
 The Hellenes are brave, and yet we go 
 
 To meet as brave a foe. The tide of strife, 
 
 All fluctuate, may not all tend on strength. 
 
 The gods forfend that we, who are about 
 
 To struggle with our bodies to the end, 
 
 At this period, before their sacred fanes 
 
 In honor to them, should not call down 
 
 Their sanction their favor to our cause, 
 
 And on our own superiority. 
 
 Tho' be it else, our text must yet be this: 
 
 We fight to win, no matter how, we must ! 
 
 Hold fast the gods ye have, and those ye lack 
 
 Respect, conciliate, to turn their wratfi 
 
 To mildness, for mortals cannot deign 
 
 To slight strange powers just because they're strange; 
 
 Respect is sometimes greater far than worship, 
 
 In that it gives an outside view which worship 
 
 Is generally blind to, which oft in 
 
 The object will inspire a tolerance 
 
 And love that 's from the worshipper withheld. 
 
 The cause is ours, and tho' we may not snatch 
 
 The prize that blinded eyes unused to such, 
 
 But still on conquest bent we sail the seas, 
 
 Because the gods have reason given us. 
 
 We fight to win, and must, no matter how ! 
 
 If that our strength prove less, and numbers weak, 
 
 Let Craft glide in, and Stealth her cautious step 
 
 Make way thro' slumbers of the strong. We have 
 
 Among us those, our brothers, who were known, 
 
 When wearied with the unavailing swing 
 
 Of axe and sword, to transfer battle to the realms 
 
 Of mind the wily paths of stratagem.
 
 POEMS BY CAMPBELL MASON 35 
 
 LAST WORDS OF A KING OF SEA-VIKINGS 
 
 TAKE thou my body when its soul is sped 
 The unmixed issue of old vikings, dead 
 And place me fair amidships on my staunch 
 And, to my foot, familiar vessel launch 
 My bier aquatical upon the deep, 
 So loved in life, that now my heart doth weep, 
 And fiercely crave its wild accustomed joys, 
 No more for me no more my love employs ! 
 
 The long adventuous cruise, no more, alas ! 
 
 The shooting thro' the fiord or the pass 
 
 Of rapid waters on to fair broad seas, 
 
 And catching in the hollow sail the breeze, 
 
 The blessed gods have sent, and wafted far 
 
 To where strange lands and much new treasures are, 
 
 In savage keeping so unfit to stay, 
 
 By sword or barter vikings bear away: 
 
 Rich stuffs and gleaming stones, for one so fair, 
 
 A queen o'er many holms, with burnished hair; 
 
 To whom o'erladen back the waves I'd curb, 
 
 And find my recompense in eyes superb. 
 
 For oh ! to wander and afar to roam, 
 
 If only for the joy returning home ! 
 
 The still night dash on shores inimical 
 
 No more ! and feel the mounting blood as fall 
 
 The battle-axes on the dastard foe 
 
 And pirates, who the lone craft too well know. 
 
 No more the grapple on the deck to feel, 
 
 Or hear the crash immediate of steel; 
 
 Or know the shock of lance on buckler strong 
 
 The mad intoxicance, when in the throng 
 
 The foe most cherished to your heart alone
 
 36 POEMS BY CAMPBELL MASON 
 
 You see, and being seen, the longing grown 
 
 To godlike passion, each to each fight thro' 
 
 The meanwhile shouting vain bravadoes new 
 
 And gain the side of each, devoid of mace, 
 
 Or knife, and pause, and smiling in the face 
 
 Of each, while noting the advantage sought 
 
 Then hugged so close, as in a unit caught, 
 
 A limb to limb, a heart to heart, the fight 
 
 Not ours, but with a personal delight. 
 
 Such strong attraction two in hate oft blends, 
 
 Which had been love, had they but met as friends : 
 
 A rivalry to supersede in kind, 
 
 According as the meeting is designed. 
 
 Opinion is the line which separates 
 
 Our strong regard to loves, or active hates. 
 
 No more the crash of stem on stern pursued, 
 Or feel the sting in rival's war-cry rude; 
 Or know the fierce, wild joy when pressed to shore, 
 To turn the tide to rout no more, no more ! 
 
 So take my body when its soul is sped 
 The unmixed issue of old vikings, dead, 
 Befitting let me lie in simple state, 
 Of nothing save my arms and shield ornate; 
 And place me fair amidships on my staunch 
 And, to my foot, familiar vessel launch 
 My bier aquatical at ebbing tide, 
 And let it drift majestic to the wide, 
 Unfathomed West, when pales the day, 
 Whose lamp shoots high its occidental ray. 
 Into its mighty silences sublime 
 And palpable, unmarked by unconscious time, 
 I'll drift; the soft caressing swish of brine 
 Familiar, 'gainst the side of seasoned pine, 
 Of my most fitting bier, my only dirge. 
 And this, my mortal casement, then shalt merge
 
 POEMS BY CAMPBELL MASON 37 
 
 Itself with all that calm infinitude 
 Of sensate mysteries that far off brood 
 Eternal and their secrets shalt they own 
 To Death, that to the quick remain unknown. 
 
 THE SONG OF OLD MEN 
 
 OUR hoary heads the press of years have borne; 
 
 Our tired hands are hard and labor worn ; 
 
 Our feet are weak, and care not for the race; 
 
 Our bodies slight, and wish nor power nor place. 
 
 Our eyes are dim, and see nor plain nor true 
 
 Those outward things, those things we once held to; 
 
 For they have lost their charm, and caring not 
 
 For them to longer see, our eyes forgot 
 
 Their function genitive, relearning now 
 
 Pre-natal gifts, the gift to dream and how 
 
 To see in this rare twilight things within. 
 
 The more we inward look, the more akin 
 To that great Mystery we feel, and move 
 Familiar in those fields of dreams, which prove 
 Not all of dreams, and lead us to the brink 
 Of Prophecy. 
 
 Oh, days we sit and think 
 
 Strange thoughts, and wish for limbs and ways of youth 
 To make them live. But oh, what joy for Truth 
 To see behind, and not be dazzled by 
 Her goddess front. We have walked round and nigh 
 Her sat in calm. We could not in our prime 
 Receive her fuller counsel, rushing by, 
 Nor far off worshiping her, for our time 
 Was for the outward look, and lofty eye.
 
 38 POEMS BY CAMPBELL MASON 
 
 Her eye is lofty, but her counsel low, 
 So low that she will to the hovel go 
 And be at home. . . . 
 
 But oh, the sunlight here 
 How she doth love it. And without a fear 
 For what's to come, here we'll tarry with her, 
 And watch a few more Springs the Summer stir, 
 To fullness; and with Fall's decrepid Sun 
 Pass to our Winter, as the year has done. 
 
 But 'tis good to sit with folded hands in rest: 
 Our feet are weary after the long quest; 
 Our heads are hoary with the weight of years; 
 Our eyes are dim, but not the dim of tears: 
 For youth is stress, and hard the fight oft goes, 
 And life is sweetest just before its close. 
 
 A ROCKY MOUNTAIN SUNSET 
 
 'Tis autumn and adown the Western sky, 
 
 Bright Helios creepeth wearily to sleep; 
 
 Nor to an ill-earned rest, with radiance dimmed, 
 
 Doth he pursue his solitary way 
 
 His face to hide beyond the horizon. 
 
 But, yet, behold ! He leaves a rich reminder 
 
 Of his presence fading fast : for look ! upon 
 
 The looming hills unto the East, his smile 
 
 Is still perceived upon the peaks which seem 
 
 To swimming eyes, a mass of molten gold. 
 
 And here, observe the eastern ether, where 
 
 Abide the lingering clouds that fringe the sky 
 
 A fleecy, closer sky, like lace upon 
 
 A princess' dainty kerchief, all aglow 
 
 And painted by the ruddy brush of Sol.
 
 POEMS BY CAMPBELL MASON 39 
 
 But now a purple craft with silver sails, 
 Glides o'er a golden ocean to a port 
 Of lavender; and there a crimson curtain 
 Parrhasius-like, some other picture hides. 
 And yet a yellow dragon picks his way 
 Along a trail of blood. 
 
 But now these glories 
 Fade, until a numerous short-lived shafts 
 Of gold shoot upward, and, in their recess, 
 Discover stars, tho' faint, in early eve, 
 As if to peep, before it disappear, 
 Upon the vari-colored phantomime. 
 
 And winds, which th' tardy Summer had belated, 
 That all the day had cycloned thro' the gulches, 
 Die away with the expiring sun, 
 And leave the even clear, and still, and calm. 
 
 I. 
 NOBLESSE 
 
 AND not apart from hidden stress 
 Shall lay your ways, not all of ease, 
 
 But conscious joys must learn to press 
 From out the process meeting these. 
 
 'Tis ever that the nature raised, 
 Some higher than an obvious scale, 
 
 Is for a higher tax appraised 
 
 From out its Fullness for the frail.
 
 40 POEMS BY CAMPBELL MASON 
 
 II. 
 ENVOI 
 
 One life, one soul is given each; 
 
 An even start. With us doth lie 
 What inequalities we reach, 
 
 Which stamp the lower from the high. 
 
 And lacking judgment of our kind, 
 When isolation rules our course, 
 
 Our motives some sure level find: 
 We feel our weakness or our force. 
 
 JOHN HAY 
 
 BEHOLD ! a star peeps out, and in a few 
 
 Swift changes of the moon becomes a sun 
 
 A planet fixed, invariable, undimmed : 
 
 All others seem, in that same firmament, 
 
 But asteroids, but comets, where they shine 
 
 Upon our mortal sight their little day, 
 
 Then fade and die away: still, while they live, 
 
 The brightness of your ray in a penumbre 
 
 Envelopes them, and slow they circle 'round 
 
 And 'round the source, reflecting but the beam 
 
 That they cannot absorb. 
 
 All forms of worship, 
 All religions, come and go and some 
 Are now forgotten ; and some, whose forms 
 Are still with us, shall die ; and others shall, 
 Upspringing, hold their small ephemeral sway,
 
 POEMS BY CAMPBELL MASON 41 
 
 Then fade away and predecessors join. 
 
 Yea, all shall die and be forgotten, save 
 
 That idle pantheism which had birth 
 
 In playful fancies when sad Sappho mourned 
 
 In strophes that were sweeter far than mirth, 
 
 For Phaon inconsiderate; when blest 
 
 Theocritus wore laurels on that brow, 
 
 Whence emanated sprightly thoughts which gave 
 
 To coevals and to posterity, 
 
 Most sweet, most fair, unpresciented joys. 
 
 Yea, all shall vanish, save this poetry 
 
 Of dogma, and this dogmaless religion, 
 
 That to the skies hath been translated, where 
 
 No mortal with a worship in his soul, 
 
 At night can see, and, seeing, worship not. 
 
 So you, in statesmanship empyreans, 
 
 With some few chosen ilk, will scintillate 
 
 And evidence the triumph of a skill 
 
 Athwart the night of years to wondering eyes, 
 
 Who there in vain shall strive to consummate 
 
 Like ends, upon an old and dry oblique, 
 
 And fail : for off the bright ecliptic path 
 
 They've strayed become besodden in a mire 
 
 Of futile and polemic prose, when swift 
 
 Their aims could be encompassed by that ease 
 
 And poetry of worth, by them contemned 
 
 As puerile and ancient and attrite. 
 
 Yea, when in years to come, when careless time 
 
 Shall quench, obliterate effulgency 
 
 Of self-directed brightness, then shalt gleam, 
 
 With steady radiance, an orb of calm 
 
 And condign beam, in foremost rank aligned, 
 
 Among his fellow stars unquenchable !
 
 42 POEMS BY CAMPBELL MASON 
 
 OVERHEAD AT THE SHRINE 
 
 ". . . And Beauty is where Beauty most 
 Unconscious of herself doth lie; 
 
 For she, like Worth, need never boast 
 To make her patent to the eye. 
 
 " No nebula across the face 
 
 Of Luna, like some mystic bird, 
 
 Has passed unnoted on its race, 
 
 And left the watcher lone unstirred. 
 
 " And no iota of the truth, 
 
 In any diverse form that springs, 
 
 Is lost when age supplants its youth, 
 But goes to swell the Soul of things: 
 
 " For stumbling on some desert flow'rs, 
 Now withered, shaking on the stem, 
 
 The beauty of their early hours 
 
 You see and scent, while spurning them. 
 
 " And Speciousness may deck in vain 
 For those who know where Beauty lies ; 
 
 And in Art's name she's doubly slain, 
 When her Sham to interpret tries. 
 
 " In simple themes she shows her face, 
 And coarseness, leisured, passing by, 
 
 So long a stranger to her grace, 
 Offends her with a travesty. 
 
 " He loveth Beauty most who doth 
 Most honor to her. He who binds 
 
 Himself to her by early troth, 
 Her oracle himself he finds.
 
 POEMS BY CAMPBELL MASON 43 
 
 " And not a life of numbered years 
 
 Lives Beauty's prayerful devotee, 
 But unto winging ages bears 
 
 His soul's immortal constancy. . . ." 
 
 OH, HOW I GRIEVE FOR EVERY SUMMER 
 
 OH, how I grieve for every summer budding May, 
 
 July's mature, 
 The fragrance of untrodden byways Oh, that these 
 
 things could endure ! 
 
 Often have I strolled with memory duplicating present 
 
 scenes, 
 Stretching arms out to a picture of a lavish world in 
 
 greens : 
 
 Of a world, that afternoon-time seems to lull, by 
 
 slumber won ; 
 Silent in a wealth of beauty, swooning in a golden 
 
 sun. 
 
 Yearning lone and small to grasp her, or to fuse one's 
 soul with All ; 
 
 Broken by her stern indiff' rence, heeding but her mys- 
 tery's call. 
 
 O days of August and September, O Summer days ! 
 
 O Summer days ! 
 The smiles you brought I give you tears for the rare 
 
 may come, but never stays.
 
 44 POEMS BY CAMPBELL MASON 
 
 r COURAGE 
 
 WORKING away without hope, toiling away in the 
 
 dark 
 Nought to encourage you, all to discourage you, 
 
 Burdened with life's every cark; 
 Few of its joys and its smiles, no moment for even 
 
 despair ; 
 For sympathy yearning, from toil to work turning 
 
 This only are few made to bear: 
 The few most selected of Fate, whose hearts hear their 
 
 destiny's cry; 
 For Work's sake just working, with brave soul un- 
 
 shirking 
 This, this is of courage most high. 
 
 A SPRING SONG 
 
 IN my heart I hear a calling 
 
 Voices soft that sing; 
 And I scent an air enthralling, 
 
 With its joyous sting: 
 " To the wildwood," is the burden 
 
 " Fields are bourgeoning ; " 
 And they lay on me and girden 
 
 All my soul with Spring ! 
 Spring, Spring, rapturous Spring! 
 
 Birds from the South on the wing; 
 Spring, Spring, ecstasy bring, 
 
 Palpitant, clamorous Spring! 
 
 Hear the cataracts' wild thunder 
 
 " Spring is here ! " they shout ; 
 And the violets meek from under 
 
 Grasses new look out. 
 At my heart I feel the message
 
 POEMS BY CAMPBELL MASON 45 
 
 There I hear her song, 
 Seeking newer things that presage 
 
 Her, I rush along ! 
 Spring, Spring, rapturous Spring ! 
 Birds from the South on the wing; 
 
 Spring, Spring, ecstasy bring, 
 
 Palpitant, clamorous Spring ! 
 
 THE HEART'S WINTER 
 
 As is the earth, my hopes are buried under 
 Ice and hard snow and skies unpromising; 
 
 Bleak desolation and the ill-wind's plunder 
 Earth and my soul are one in their lost Spring. 
 
 And as the earth, benumbed and prone and cheerless, 
 Must dream of late importunating flowers, 
 
 Though Hope is dead, her sighs breathed for the peer- 
 less, 
 Warms not to nearness snowy-leaden hours. 
 
 So with my heart, where late and lone supreme you 
 Grew and were all how vanished, oh, how gone ! 
 
 Though in the blankness, cold, I still can dream you 
 Shall my heart see a Summer further on? 
 
 DESTINY 
 
 WHERE the surf breaks in white flakes, 
 
 Along a rugged shore, 
 Where the rock strips, of wrecked ships, 
 
 At low tide show a score; 
 On a point, bare remote, where 
 
 The wind has never died, 
 Stand a lost pair, a girl, fair 
 
 A man, borne to her side :
 
 46 POEMS BY CAMPBELL MASON 
 
 A thousand leagues between them lay when first they 
 
 put to sea; 
 Two wrecks have made them one upon this shore of 
 
 destiny. 
 
 In a dense square, a worn pair 
 Were passing on their way, 
 And by mere chance, a quick glance 
 
 They each exchanged that day; 
 But the swift throng, its tide strong, 
 
 Had swept them far apart 
 Yet a hope lies in lone eyes 
 That daily scan the mart: 
 And when hope faded, sick in souil, for health they seek 
 
 the sea; 
 
 A white-winged ship on summer waves, its deck their 
 destiny. 
 
 HURRIED LINES WRITTEN IN AN OFFICE 
 
 To F C . 
 
 THE test of Friendship is the test of Time; 
 The years are hers, but moments e'er suffice 
 To bribe the rest. For those that sing in rhyme 
 With one's own soul, its melodies entice. 
 
 The sands of Time run slowly out and leave 
 A residue of hope : the hope that turns 
 To those that nearer stand in subtle weave 
 Of understanding, that the full soul learns. 
 
 The champac odors of an eastern glade 
 Bring thoughts of passion and the short night's thrill; 
 The wild thyme of the hills, in fragrance staid, 
 We calmly gather to be sensed at will.
 
 POEMS BY CAMPBELL MASON 47 
 
 The rose-red pleasures of the fleeting year 
 Pass on with those that o'er the moments reign; 
 The hours of laughter are to Friendship, dear, 
 As gaudy blooms to amarinth's unchange. 
 
 THE MOUNTAIN KING 
 i. 
 
 I GAZE o'er the desert, the valleys and sea 
 
 I note the approach of the storm ; 
 I hear the winds roar, as they sweep the land o'er 
 
 I watch the black clouds as they form : 
 I peer as they gather in battle array, 
 
 And deafening echoes I ring, 
 
 To the thunder's loud clash, and the lightning's bright 
 flash, 
 
 For I am the Mountain King! 
 
 2. 
 
 I greet the first rays of the sun on his rise, 
 
 While still the world darkened doth lie ; 
 My towering peak the wild eagles seek, 
 
 Majestic and rugged as I. 
 All day they will soar in search of their prey, 
 
 And, burdened at dusk, homeward wing: 
 And the sun in the West looks his last on the crest 
 
 Of the hoary Mountain King. 
 
 Sometimes a mere mortal to scale my face tries 
 
 Then is my great heart on fire: 
 I quiver and shake, his destruction to make, 
 
 And bury him under my ire.
 
 48 POEMS BY CAMPBELL MASON 
 
 And e'en the wild beasts that prowl on my slopes, 
 Give voice to the fears that tipspring 
 
 In them as they flee, when my passions I free 
 For I am the Mountain King! 
 
 LOW IN THE WEST CREEPS THE SUN 
 
 A Lullaby 
 
 Low in the West creeps the sun 
 Creep to your nest, little one; 
 Creep with the birds into rest, 
 Peacefully sink into sleep on my breast. 
 Softly the wind f alleth down ; 
 Still are the birds in the crown 
 High in the elm trees, and calm 
 Settles the night like a balm. 
 
 Tight in my bosom you're pressed, 
 
 Foundling of Love's gentle quest; 
 
 Deep in my bosom you go, 
 
 Deep as Love's voice to the ear, soft and low. 
 
 Father will bend o'er thee soon, 
 
 When on the hill shines the moon; 
 
 Peacefully sleep, little one, 
 
 Slumber, the day now is done. 
 
 IGNIS FATUUS 
 
 COME wreathe the world in light, 
 And let the stars sing for me; 
 
 There is no gloom like night, 
 Where Love's light fails to be.
 
 POEMS BY CAMPBELL MASON 49 
 
 Give o'er the dreams of high emprise, 
 There are less lonely paths and green ; 
 
 The daylight in the valley lies 
 A kingdom where you'll reign as Queen. 
 
 Give o'er the dreams of high emprise 
 
 Your kind in vanity is mired; 
 This ignis fatuus will rise 
 
 To taunt some others less desired. 
 
 Give o'er the hectic flush of strife 
 
 Your kind is steeped in vanity ; 
 A woman cannot live man's life 
 
 And keep her woman's sanity. 
 
 The sex is marked, her duties planned 
 Preserve such loveliness in sphere : 
 
 Let shine so that it will command, 
 Its due respect and proper fear. 
 
 Come, follow me, fair brave, 
 
 And following, I follow thee. 
 There still is time to save 
 
 A Queen to some strong race to be. 
 
 WHEN LIFE WAS ALL A DREAM 
 
 As the years advance and age creeps on towards night, 
 And the light begins to fade in eyes once bright, 
 Then the thoughts of youthful days the mem'ry 
 
 crowd 
 
 When Life's broad skies were blue without a cloud. 
 In the heart was ever one on high enthroned, 
 And to that image every thought was toned ; 
 And all was joy, so fleeting that it seemed 
 A paradise not lived, but only dreamed.
 
 Tho' the hallowed past is gone beyond recall, 
 Yet a fond regret at times o'ershadows all; 
 For we think that if the sun of youth was high 
 Again for us, no cloud would stud the sky. 
 And the joys omitted in our youthful haste, 
 We'd have them in a rosy setting placed; 
 But fond regret will ever tinge the theme 
 Of thoughts of days, when Life was all a dream. 
 
 INSCRUTABLE PROVIDENCE 
 
 IF pleasures were not moulded in pain, 
 
 But pain in pleasure, 
 We'd be apt to count our sorrows the gain, 
 
 And joy the measure. 
 
 So providence, inscrutable, wise, 
 
 For every pleasure blest, 
 Inserts the thorns in various guise 
 
 To give our joys more zest. 
 
 A WINTER SCENE 
 
 FAR-FLUNG the ermine mantle covers Earth, 
 So lately nude. All previous lay her trove 
 Till Night from out her dark recesses wove 
 
 The velvet fabric for her northern ^girth. 
 
 The envious Dawn the veil of clouds away 
 Strips mightily, and streaks with fiery red 
 The shimmering whiteness Night so softly shed, 
 
 Until it seems as if the Night by Day 
 
 Fresh slain, were crimsoning the world with blood 
 From new-made wounds. . . . Her low'ring 
 hand-maids fly,
 
 POEMS BY CAMPBELL MASON 51 
 
 Aiid solider, from his cold sparkling eye, 
 Earth folds her spotless robe in gratitude. 
 
 Hark ! on the frosty air is wafted low, 
 But keen and far, the rhythmic jingle-ling 
 
 Of lively bells, and o'er the firm hard snow, 
 The crunching hoofs and easy runners sing. 
 
 THINK not of me: . . . 
 
 Though 'tis my fate to swing perpetual censers here 
 
 Before thy shrine on Memory's altar, surely some old 
 
 kindly god 
 
 From you will ineffectual rememberings forfend. 
 The ghost of that pure loveliness that was your smile, 
 The light enveloping your wondrous grace of move- 
 ment, 
 
 Like some embodied song, transcends all thoughts, 
 And gilds the wings of loveless hours. . . . 
 
 I have no joy save in the torture of the memory of 
 you ! . . . 
 
 Oh ! the delight of many perfect days that glided 
 
 Into still more perfect nights 
 
 How gone how wholly gone ! 
 
 When to that fair, far planet polyonomous 
 
 We lifted careless eyes and wondered if the sighs we 
 
 sent her 
 
 Were as musical and weighted as those which proved 
 The anarchist to time-old thrones ! . . . 
 How little heeded was the Muses' presence; 
 How little guessed a haunting analogue.
 
 52 POEMS BY CAMPBELL MASON 
 
 Change tears asunder and one heart is twain : 
 Recollection, only recollection, with Tantullus unquiet; 
 This, and vain regrets for beauty lost. 
 I feel like Pan long standing in the far, dim solitude 
 Of Delphian nights, with eyes unswerving on a star 
 That harbors some bright, whilom companionable 
 
 nymph. . . . 
 
 How like careless children in a violet dell 
 Did we talk and dream of storied bliss, 
 Set in some ancient frame; 
 Unheeding golden hours and the living of a tale. 
 
 The classic dews that drenched anemones beside a 
 Grecian pass 
 
 Were like to these but not more fair; 
 
 The note of some Illyrian bird was not more sweet 
 than those we heard, 
 
 When through the yesteryear we floated in a close- 
 held dream, 
 
 Unmindful of the dream in the living of it. 
 
 How touched with fancy in an irreclaimable remote- 
 ness 
 
 Looms common beauties : 
 
 Oh, that our beauties' faults should be their fre- 
 quency ! . . , 
 
 How pales an Helen's name, an aspect of the sea 
 
 Personified in Attic imagery; 
 
 The pride of Elusinian victors, the undercurrent amour 
 smiling through; 
 
 The catch of breath at pictured Delos swimming 
 
 In ethereal purple, bearing the twin hope 
 
 Of Song, of Fancy and of Dreams 
 
 With a coronal of ecstasy, and a legacy of thrills 
 
 (All, all, sad, sweet things of eld, and the Wraith of 
 raptures dead)
 
 POEMS BY CAMPBELL MASON 53 
 
 Beside the Real, the poignant Now, that 'tis gone 
 
 with you ! 
 
 How vexatious to the living grasp the Real 
 Is only when 'tis past. . . . Oh, mortal fate, alas ! 
 That cannot live Romance, but only remember it. 
 
 THE SONG OF THE BELL 
 
 IN my eyrie I have swung, 
 Since this village, old, was young; 
 Wild alarum's notes I've raised, 
 When destroying fires blazed; 
 And with cadence soft and calm, 
 Muffled and with measured balm, 
 For the wearied, passing soul 
 To its rest, I sadly toll. 
 
 And here I cling, and swing, and ring, 
 
 W'ith tidings of great glee; 
 Or to and fro, and sad and slow, 
 
 I voice the grief in me : 
 Ding dong, ding dong I sing my song, 
 
 Or beat a measured toll; 
 Now for the bride, in maiden pride, 
 
 Now for the passing soul. 
 
 II 
 
 But a merry tune I ring, 
 And the mellow echoes fling, . 
 While the wedding cortege stands 
 Near the pledge of hearts and hands.
 
 54 POEMS BY CAMPBELL MASON 
 
 And across the angry sea, 
 
 Where the storm-tossed sailors be, 
 
 Harsh and loud I raise my cry: 
 
 " Treach'rous rocks are nigh are nigh." 
 
 And far and near, distinct and clear, 
 
 O'er ocean, town and glen, 
 I raise a peal of woe or weal, 
 
 To suit the moods of men. 
 Ding dong, ding dong I sing my song, 
 
 A jingle or a knell; 
 Joyous and glad, sublime or sad, 
 
 I sing the song of the bell. 
 
 "CRAMMING" 
 
 WHAT is all this I hear about " Cram " ? 
 " The schools now are cramming too much ; 
 
 My children can't stand the curriculum's jam- 
 Their strength is not equal," and such. 
 
 Think you a brain an empty room is, 
 In which you can pack just so much; 
 
 And measured for that, and measured for this 
 Upstacked, till the ceiling they touch? 
 
 That spaceless room, it cannot be filled, 
 
 Tho' laziness fains you 'tis full: 
 Betrayed, oh, are we, our ambition is stilled 
 
 By indolence's gentle pull. 
 
 Blessed is he a stern mentor has 
 
 His nature or willful or led, 
 Will yet in his youth, it may come to pass, 
 
 Get inclines to where titans tread.
 
 POEMS BY CAMPBELL MASON 55 
 
 Oh, bad enough, when you're your own ward, 
 
 Is blinding indifference to lore, 
 But when unformed minds you have under your guard 
 
 And sanction their puerile war, 
 
 Capacity's killed, and habits of reach 
 
 The habits of reaching above 
 For Flowers of Thought for the Vase you impeach, 
 
 And murder and maim, where you love. 
 
 Countenance not the sweet, siren voice, 
 That you know enough for your use: 
 
 If in it you can't with the Eagle rejoice, 
 Take care that you be not a Goose. 
 
 The Eagle is keen, and the Owl, wise 
 
 Yet others beneath emulate; 
 While trying your wings, pray you not to devise 
 
 For your feather an Ostrich's pate : 
 
 And sinking there in sands of conceit 
 
 Or self-satisfied mud your head, 
 That hunters for worth may guffaw at your feet, 
 
 And take you all unprepared. 
 
 THE TOREADOR 
 
 AMID the uproar'ous din come the piccadores in, 
 
 With hearts beating high ; 
 And in the expectant lull, ope the gates and the bull 
 
 Asnort rushes by. 
 See how his eye flashes fire, 
 As on they goad him to ire, 
 All around the bloody space, at a furious pace, 
 
 Till the toreador in splendor draws nigh.
 
 56 POEMS BY CAMPBELL MASON 
 
 How deft ev'ry charge he evades of the bull in his 
 
 raids, 
 
 When hard he is press'd; 
 But soon will his Toledo steel, the bull's mad career 
 
 seal, 
 
 With Love's favors dress'd: 
 Then in the thick of the cheering, 
 Finds he the glance most endearing, 
 From the eyes that softly speak, all he cares there 
 
 to seek 
 To the toreador that victory is best. 
 
 'S APOSTROPHE TO DIAN 
 i. 
 
 AT eve I scan the heavenly clan 
 
 Thy gleaming form to find; 
 And thro' the night, thy radiance bright 
 
 A pathway trails behind; 
 And as you blaze your silver rays 
 
 Across yon astral fare, 
 You light my way, with twilight day, 
 
 For mortals that I bear: 
 As steering homeward 'cross the sea 
 Rely upon the stars, and thee ! 
 
 2. 
 
 And as you swing, constellars sing 
 
 Celestial lullabies; 
 A meteor flings its myriad wings, 
 
 And to thy bosom flies.
 
 POEMS BY CAMPBELL MASON 57 
 
 I' thy soft spell I, Endymion lie 
 
 To thy pale caress I rise; 
 And my solitudes, where the ringdove broods, 
 
 Is musical with sighs, 
 Of those ilk-tinged souls that seem 
 To haunt thy sacred fanes, and dream. 
 
 And you behold, when shades enfold 
 
 My airs impalpable, 
 The countless sights I yield o' nights, 
 
 Which Sol 's incapable. 
 The wilderness, 'neath thy caress, 
 
 An incense wafts to thee ; 
 Fantastic tones, which day disowns, 
 
 Takes on each shrub and tree : 
 And only with pigments of shadow and light, 
 Delineate traceries all through the night. 
 
 4- 
 
 By Venus gleaming, with love-light teeming, 
 
 Thy entrance is proclaimed ; 
 By Jupiter still statelier 
 
 Thy exit 's far declaimed. 
 With gentle glance, as you advance 
 
 To thy egressal dawn, 
 From out the skies dost thou apprise 
 
 Thy kin, the starry spawn : 
 
 For the Lord of the heavens must rule supreme, 
 With his greater light and ardent beam !
 
 58 POEMS BY CAMPBELL MASON 
 
 And nights uncertain, when a curtain 
 
 Across the sky is flung, 
 Which hides thy vision in the Elysian, 
 
 Where evermore it hung, 
 That tender ether my fair wreather 
 
 Grows chill in thy disdain; 
 And bright Aurora finds my flora 
 
 Drenched in tears of rain. 
 Tho' Uranus yesterday even was pied 
 Wi' thy kin, in a Stygian hue now is dyed. 
 
 6. 
 
 Majestic queen! from thee I glean, 
 
 Beneath thy radiant smiles, 
 A light as chaste, as that which graced 
 
 The legendary isles. 
 I watch thy light fade with the night, 
 
 But my expectant gaze, 
 Divinity, next eve will see 
 
 You mount your orbed ways : 
 A Nike in chariot sped thro' the sky, 
 To conquer the darkness of evening and die! 
 
 THE ARISTOCRACY OF EASE 
 
 To doze and dream in the firelight's gleam, 
 
 A book of verse upon the lap; 
 A sonnet read, a lyric scanned, 
 Contentment in each castle planned; 
 
 A drowsy lull, a nod, mayhap 
 A dream in rhythm, ryhthm's dream.
 
 POEMS BY CAMPBELL MASON 59 
 
 What smiles from out the soul o'erflow, 
 
 Transforming features that without 
 So short a while ago, unblest, 
 
 Austere and fixed by many a doubt, 
 Now godlike 'neath the firelight glow 
 (To doubt and care the alkahest) 
 That are to mortal eyes unknown 
 And conscious-caught but leave their throne : 
 Mind-flow'rs foredoomed, unmarked, to die, 
 Smile-elves that on a rustle fly: 
 The which resembling practised smile 
 As fairies to this fleshy pile. 
 
 The wine of song, romance's touch, 
 The gleam of fire enhances much : 
 For in the Winter nested snug, 
 Enthroned upon the hearthstone rug, 
 When winds howl outward, Fancy's Spring 
 Surpasses even Nature's thing. 
 
 The veiled note of thrush is heard, 
 (No note so sweet as Fancy's bird!) 
 And blossoms burgeoning the fields 
 Imaginary perfume yields. 
 
 The chivalry, the loves of eld, 
 From poets into song have well'd; 
 And e'er the theme will tinge the dream 
 That comes before the firelight's gleam. 
 
 But give the laurel unto him 
 
 Not that he sings a stirring deed 
 But that he so usurp the whim 
 
 Of who the strophies lilt and read, 
 With such abandon that himself 
 Become the storied prince or elf.
 
 60 POEMS BY CAMPBELL MASON 
 
 Vicarious pleasures, negative, 
 
 Appeal more to the mind, 
 Than positive, affirmative, 
 
 So easier to find : 
 For who can purchase that sixth sense, 
 
 The faculty to feel 
 What others dreamed in moments tense, 
 
 That we enjoy as real? 
 
 Who cares for action? let him act 
 
 Who for discomfort craves; 
 Our lives of needed ease is sack'd 
 
 By being action's slaves : 
 Perform we may and still complain 
 
 Denied the pause that 's yearned, 
 But ne'er quiescency disdain 
 
 Which doing well has earned. 
 For only those in action keep 
 
 Most clayey as to mind; 
 And they alone all free from sleep 
 
 Enjoy what gods designed. 
 
 For ever ease has sired calm 
 
 And grave, serene philosophies; 
 E'er nursed 'neath brooding Musa's balm 
 
 Nepenthe, are her poesies: 
 Nor slothful ease of bland desires, 
 
 Devoid of aspiration's leaven, 
 But ease of quintessential fires 
 
 Whose spell-born fruits reach up to heaven. 
 
 TREAD LIGHTLY ON THIS SPOT 
 
 TREAD lightly on this spot ! 
 
 And o'er that raised mound, I pray you, stumble not : 
 For here lies one who fought the Fight and lost 
 A puny Fame the stake, his life the cost.
 
 POEMS BY CAMPBELL MASON 61 
 
 Oh, when will humankind their interests separate, 
 
 From drudgery of work, from earliness of Fate? 
 
 He slaved all out of time, 
 
 He died whilst yet in early prime; 
 
 He tried to force the fame 
 
 That fitted best with riper years, 
 By striving their late Work to do. The Game 
 
 He sought to take devours him behind, while 
 straight in front he peers. 
 
 Tread lightly on this spot ! . . . 
 
 The rains that percolate to where his Mother's bosom 
 
 hot 
 
 Has him so close and irrevocably in hold, 
 Can now no furthermore affect the temper of his 
 
 mould, 
 
 Save to accelerate with its insidious rot, 
 Its seeming to the substance of his universal cot. 
 
 Ah, yes, tread lightly on this spot, 
 
 And, near around so far the hedges stretch, do not 
 
 With levity this calm enjoyable of Silence and of 
 
 Grief 
 Disturb ! to dissipate its sweet and grave influence 
 
 brief. 
 
 Few who may stand in summertime in such a place, 
 Behind an olden church, with such an ancient grace, 
 As if it stood in such a gentle town, 
 In such a dreamy street forever, and disown 
 A thrill of this? Its very Silence speaks 
 
 And, with the heavy fragrance of its plants, breathes 
 
 of another world. 
 
 And here the dew, that longer all the flora pearled 
 Most emulative of those human tears, to them well 
 known, at even sooner seeks.
 
 62 POEMS BY CAMPBELL MASON 
 
 But stay ! see where she slowly nears ; 
 
 The tottering gate she opes, comes through, 
 All in her soon, too soon ! her widow's weeds, while 
 
 tears 
 
 Her meshy veil, voluminous, bedew. 
 She kneels (off in our corner, contemplative, screened 
 
 By rhododendron bushes, kneel we too), 
 And lifts her sombre front of woe, that weaned 
 
 The sun of Joy from features early taught to woo 
 The ever grave demeanor of a sorrow's brooding look. 
 She gazes for a time on that raised book. 
 And then its volume green she clasps, and soft 
 And shaken come the sobs, that now her breast's ac- 
 quainted much too oft: 
 
 "O Father, why, O, why in his Ambition's prime, 
 After in this bosom trusting him so short a time, 
 With all his aims, his goodnesses and faults, 
 Why tak'st thou him from me? that taking halts 
 And makes me more than Dead, for I 
 No further look with outward view, but sit with in- 
 ward eye. 
 
 O God, I know he did transgress thy natural laws 
 By too much earth-ambition, gave thy time of rest 
 
 to it, because 
 Of it it was a part; unquenchable endeavor in his 
 
 bosom burned, 
 Not only in that part allowed, but the whole Circle 
 
 turned 
 
 He into it: and yet thou gav'st him Death. 
 O Lord, Thou knowest that he was my daily breath, 
 (Such strange air do some women breathe, that none 
 
 Can see what keep their love alive!) 
 Yet Thou Thou took'st him, God, because he was my 
 
 Sun. 
 
 And I, idolatrous, did, watching o'er him, thrive 
 And grow in stature. . . . O God! where'er he is 
 would I
 
 POEMS BY CAMPBELL MASON 63 
 
 Be with him now, tho' in the earth or sky ! 
 Omniscient, O, Almighty Cruelty ! him give me back, 
 
 I pray 
 No, I demand ! Thou " Come, O, come away. 
 
 SPECULATION 
 
 IF in the eve of love, when Love loves love a-dying, 
 I should draw nigh to you, as nigh as young love 
 
 sighing, 
 And as you drew life from my lips, you drew love 
 
 flying- 
 How would love meet with death? 
 
 In all the cosmos there must be a sequent ending 
 To each beginning; but how endeth love? Befriend- 
 ing 
 
 Denying or defying, in o'erripe contending? 
 Fond love how perisheth? 
 
 Of all who here hath suffered love who can who shall 
 
 tell, 
 How Love's fond heav'n declined into its practical 
 
 hell; 
 
 How came, how endeth and how when its coronal fell 
 With Death into the past? 
 
 When thinking of 't when scarce a yellowing year 
 
 confesses 
 
 The thrill of passion, wine that dewy lips impresses 
 Now lost to savour in the fragrance of new tresses, 
 How pleads in vain the last!
 
 64 POEMS BY CAMPBELL MASON 
 
 How can the Soul but change when Love rules all her 
 
 actions 
 
 Since ever when he met her on the height, distractions 
 Drave her, ere darkness dawned upon the world in 
 
 fractions, 
 And housed her in his manse? 
 
 Like he who invites pity and contempt receiving, 
 He who stands round and beckons Love entraps de- 
 ceiving 
 
 Uncouth self-love; for Love is never coaxed, believing 
 In lodgment but by chance. 
 
 SONG TO PROMETHEUS IN WINTER 
 
 OF Eld there came a cruel voice rushing, 
 
 Uncertain, with an undisputed ban, 
 O'er smiling heaths and thro' dim forests pushing 
 
 His hard implacable sovran. 
 "I am Winter, and my pact with Winds 
 
 Runs on till Hecate's release." 
 And men crouched trembling, and with stricken minds 
 
 They sacrificed to soften Dis. 
 
 But one who walked with gods rebellious 
 
 'Gainst vengeance on a race so weak, 
 Heaven's anodyne stole, infidelious, 
 
 And gave it men, and suffered on the peak. 
 Of old the icy lips are wide to sift 
 
 Bleak desolation on a happy earth, 
 And frighten and dismay. But men catch up the gift 
 
 And his sharp breath unedge, 'mid peals of mirth.
 
 LIGHTER VERSE
 
 LAMENT OF THE UNIVERSAL LOVER 
 
 (Ballade.) 
 
 OH ! what a lot of beauty flashes 
 
 On our sight, from day to day; 
 See how it thro' December splashes, 
 
 Or calmly strolls thro' sunny May. 
 
 It keeps you turning on your way, 
 To see it all, if you'd miss none: 
 
 How cruel the Fates or laws that say, 
 Of all these I may have but one ! 
 
 If I should wed, reduced to ashes 
 
 Are my hopes, if ill we fay; 
 Or fadge we well, yet Hymen's lashes 
 
 Hold me from this one to stray. 
 
 And if I prove not constant aye, 
 That monster, Law, will prove no fun : 
 
 How sad the dirge to me alway 
 Of all these I may have but one ! 
 
 And if one single stays, he dashes 
 
 Free to look as much he may; 
 And free to make as many mashes, 
 
 As the kind Fates to him play. 
 
 But in this free-and-easy way, 
 Might he not miss a brilliant Sun, 
 
 While hiding self 'neath manners gay ? 
 Of all these he may have but one. 
 
 L'envoi. 
 
 So must we choose, and, choosing, stay 
 
 In wedlock, or in bachelordom. 
 We want them all, so sweet are they ! 
 
 Of all these we may have but one. 
 67
 
 68 POEMS BY CAMPBELL MASON 
 
 SOCIETY'S REPLY 
 
 (" Society doesn't realize, or care to realize, that it 
 sets the example and other foolish people lower down 
 in the social scale follow its lead. . . . The women 
 can be seen in all the fashionable restaurants affected 
 by the " smart set " drinking intoxicating liquors, not 
 only when with male escorts, but without . . . ." 
 A prominent clergyman.) 
 
 WE set the example ! Oh, do we ? what fun ! 
 
 But we the job strongly contemn: 
 To jobs some are born and achieve others one, 
 
 And some have them thrust upon them. 
 
 You say we indulge in the wine-cup too freely, 
 
 But who'd be a recharbite saint? 
 You say that we women are tanks: well, we really 
 
 And truly assure we ain't. 
 
 We move in a sort of theatrical glare: 
 
 A cham. glass appears like a tub; 
 And lenses are leveled continually there 
 
 We know it, forsooth, " there's the rub." 
 
 We all have our foibles of course magnified 
 
 By jealous onlookers are ours; 
 But just one faux pas from the place where we're tied, 
 
 And the world is apprised in two hours. 
 
 You charge us, we notice, with being immoral, 
 
 And worshipping idols of " Dust." 
 Oh, no, while some of us may be er unmoral, 
 
 We're never the former, we trust.
 
 POEMS BY CAMPBELL MASON 69 
 
 Now when slightest actions are watched every hour, 
 
 One surely will " show off " a bit : 
 If we'd find us playing to empty seats, our 
 
 Desire to do things would flit. 
 
 EILEEN 
 
 A LASSIE transported from Munster's green sod, 
 Has hit me right here, and she's hit hard, b' God! 
 Her father's from Dublin, her mother's from Cork 
 They jumped on a steamer and landed in York. 
 The blood of ould Ireland's kings flows in her veins 
 The wee little foot av her just, when it rains, 
 That's peekin' so dainty when she lifts her skirts, 
 And the thought that she isn't mine yet is what hurts. 
 
 Some tell me that Frinch gurls is what takes the prize: 
 Just wan look at Eileen and France you'll despise. 
 And some like a Dutch or a plump German frau; 
 But up ag'inst Eileen they'd dwindle, I vow. 
 And if she refuses her honest spalpeen, 
 When he on his knees sez, " Come be my coleen ! " 
 No charms in another could I iver see, 
 'Twould then be the same if I wed a Chinee. 
 
 THE END
 
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