LIBRARY OF THK UNIVERSITY OF CALIFORNIA. GIFT OF x . ivi. C. A. OF U. C. Occasion 10.16.97.... Class SONGS AND LYRICS BY GEORGE AMBROSE DENNISON ^^^^^^y^v^ G. P. PUTNAM S SONS NEW YORK: 27 & 29 WEST 23D STREET LONDON : 25 HENRIETTA STREET, CO VENT GARDEN l88 4 COPYRIGHT BY GEORGE AMBROSE DENNISON 1884 Press of G. P. Putnam s Sons York $7? TO MY FRIEND R. W. W. CONTENTS. PACK INVOCATION , . vii To A BLUEBELL ..... i ON THE HEIGHTS . . . . . / 3 To A CRICKET 4 A MESSENGER . . ... . ... 6 SORROW 8 FAREWELL n BREEZES I5 SONNET I7 MY LOVE Is LIKE A FLAME . . . . 18 A NIGHT SONG Ig DIVINE COMPASSION 20 SONG 22 BE PATIENT, HEART .... . . 23 WOOING IN VAIN ..*... . . 25 A SUMMONS . . . * . . . . . 26 AN OFFERING . , .... . . 32 HOPE . 33 A NIGHT RIDE 34 To THE POET ....... 38 To MY MUSE VI CONTENTS. PAGE To THE WOOD THRUSH 43 AT DAWN 46 THE FOREST STREAM 49 MINE 53 To A DYING FRIEND 56 BEYOND WORDS 59 SPRING 60 NIGHTFALL FROM THE MOUNTAIN . ... 65 AN INVITATION . 69 SPRING NIGHT 73 THE PINE TREE 74 TRANSFORMATION ...... .79 A VISION OF POESY . .... 80 THE MUSE DISDAINFUL 84 To THE SEA 88 INVOCATION. Lead me, O Muse, by waters clear and sweet. Where tones of liquid harmony arise, Where forms of woodland beauty charm my eyes, And changing light and shade my glances meet ; Lead where my gaze the laughing Dawn may greet, Or where the golden glory of the skies On Evening s dusky bosom slowly dies, And stately Night walks forth with dewy feet. Thus guided, I may shun those ttirgid springs Whose waters creep through dark and devious ways, And taste the well of unde filed delight ; And hearkening unto Nature while she sings, My voice at last a worthy song may raise, As free as air, and clear as morning light. UN V TO A BLUEBELL. Modest bell, Sunny bank adorning, Passing well Thou dost grace the morning. Winds caress thee as they go, Swing thee gently to and fro, Kiss, and kiss, they love thee so, Other blossoms scorning. They would fain Cease their idle playing, And remain, Never from thee straying ; For with lovely playfulness Thou returnest each caress, TO A BLUEBELL. Or dost bow in humbleness, Like a spirit praying. If my verse, In some woodland measure, Might rehearse All thy beauty s treasure, Strains so fresh and pure should rise, Every heart beneath the skies Would awake in glad surprise To a new-born pleasure. Yet, my bell, Though I sang forever, Ne er so well, With my best endeavor, That illusive charm of thine, Finer far than word or sign, Nameless, rare, almost divine I could sing it never. ON THE HEIGHTS. Below us, smiling at her best, In royal summer s rich array, The glad earth wears such happy face As rounds with joy a perfect day. O er yonder hills and yonder stream The eye delighted wanders wide, Yet gladly do I turn and gaze On finer beauty at my side. For though that broad expanse may show The fairest scene beneath the skies, All that, and more, looks out on me From these two worlds, my Lady s eyes. TO A CRICKET SINGING AT NIGHT ON BROADWAY. Thou jocund songster, what has brought thee here To this abode of haggard toil and care ? Why dost thou chirrup forth thy sprightly cheer Upon this foul and inattentive air ? The joy of living soundeth in thy voice A simple verity, a happy call On all that hear thy summons, to rejoice That life is sweet, and ill can ne er befall. The home for thee were surely far away, Beside a hearth in some sequestered place, Where worthy labor glorifies the day, And sweet contentment shines in every face. TO A CRICKET. 5 Thy song would there a happy circle greet, And every note of thine would harmonize With hours that run forever pure and sweet, With peace that soothes, and joy that never dies. The song of birds that hail the morning light, The drone of locusts to the drowsy noon, The voice of winds that usher in the night, Would all accord with thy melodious tune. But simple gladness and the joy of song Are sadly alien to this busy place, Where servile slaves of Mammon daily throng, And rude contention rules the dizzy race. And yet methinks thou seemest well content To chirrup thus, where er thy lot may be : Though in a dungeon close thy life were spent, Thy simple song would make a world for thee. A MESSENGER. Wind, you never have blown so sweet As you blow to-day ; Never before could your voice repeat Half so rich a lay ; For you come from where my lady dwells, And the burden of your music tells What a rapture lights her eye, What a fragrance fills her sigh, What a tender grace Plays upon her spirit-quickened face. Return, O Wind, and tell The maid I love so well, That the day is long without her, Night is racked with dreams about her, A MESSENGER. 7 And my breast Can know not rest Till my eyes again behold her, Till my arms once more enfold her. SORROW. Sorrow came one day and said to me, " I would dwell for evermore with thee." But I liked her not, and cried, " Away ! For she cast a gloom upon the day, And a chill was in her breath, And her eye foreshadowed death. But my rude rebuffs were vain, For she answered me again, Saying : " Nay, do not deny me, Do not seek to fly me. That unthinking boy, Rosy-featured Joy, Whose vain windings thou dost follow, Hath a heart both false and hollow. Let him go, and take thou me 8 SORROW. In his stead, and I will be Always faithful unto thee." Thus she spoke, and calming my alarms, Drew me to her with her saintly arms ; And she sang in measures soft and slow, Sadly sweet and low, Something Joy had never spoken, Something heavenly, as a token Of a perfect peace and rest Waiting for me, in her breast. Such persuasive sweetness had her song, That my heart went out to her ere long ; And my wayward soul was won To paths of peace, where quiet waters run. And now sweet Sorrow dwells with me, Evermore my friend to be. Restlessness and change are flown, Joy s distempers are unknown. 10 SORROW. Under skies of placid gray Quietly I sit all day, While from off the sea of Peace Zephyrs blow, and never cease. Death, whose very name was once a fear, On his journeys often passes near. Beautifully gentle is his face, Shining bright, as with an inward grace ; And he seems a friend to Sorrow, For they smile, and give " Good-morrow." Oft he speaks with me, And I dimly see Other lands, I know not where, Happy, and forever fair, Unto whose bright realms, some day He will spirit me away. Not till dawns that happy morrow Will I say good-bye to gentle Sorrow. FAREWELL. Come nearer, O beloved ! for my day Is passing, and a radiance from beyond Steals through the waning barrier that divides, And grows, and grows, as that dissolves forever. From out the shadows stretches forth a hand And beckons me. Nay, Weep not, weep not so ; For in that kindly palm no terror lies, But perfect rest and everlasting peace. Draw me close closer, dear. A faintness steals Upon me, and my spirit fails and fails. * * ****** Have I been dreaming ? I was there again, Strolling along the border of that wood Where happiness first found me, years ago. ii 12 FAREWELL. How beautiful the day was ! All the air Was fragrant with the balmy breath of May. And you were there, Eugenia ; and you stood, A vision of delight, with face upraised, Watching the oriole building in the elm. You held a spray of blossoms in your hand, And watching still, as, rapt in what you saw, You raised the flowers and pressed them to your face. What was it in the movement of your arm, Ere yet I saw your face, that thrilled me so, And made me stop and gaze, scarce knowing why ? And then how I remember ! as I passed, The momentary, sweet entanglement Of glances, and the flush that lit your face, And then the sudden falling of your eyes : How wonderful it was ! I paused, as though A cord stretched out and held me to the spot ; And then I went my way. FAREWELL. 13 All things were changed. The trees, the flowers, the grass, the very weeds Had voices ; and they chanted to my heart A ravishment of intermingling songs. How wide the fields were grown ! How high the trees ! And yonder stream, how beautiful it shone With forms of wedded clouds and azure sky, Made glorious by that bright, new-risen sun. I wondered at the tumult in my breast, Unknowing that in one brief space our hearts Our spirits met, as now, alas, they part. I saw it all, Eugenia, in the dream. The world since then has been a paradise ; For I have viewed it through your better eyes, And from your finer spirit always shone A light that radiated every where, And wrapped the earth in glory. 14 FAREWELL. Oh ! again That hand that gracious, comfort-bearing hand ! How close it comes now and that heavenly light ******** Alas, I wander. Closer closer dear, And press my head upon that gentle breast, So I may hear the heart-throbs, and may chain My truant sense to them, and it shall stray No more from you. For now the change is near ; And, till the last faint flutter of my breath, My sight must still be true, that it may drink The holy soul-light shining through your eyes The hand comes nearer nearer see ! the flame I lose you, O Eugenia wife farewell ! BREEZES. Gentle breezes, Joyful breezes, Whither go ? Daily, nightly, Flitting lightly To and fro. Ever coming, ever going, Undulating touch bestowing Strains that set my heart a-going, Gentle breezes, Whither go ? Tuneful breezes, Whisp ring breezes, O, how sweet ! What a blessing 15 1 6 BREEZES. Such caressing Breath to meet ! Filled with tales of flower and tree, Warbling bird and wandering bee, Rush of stream and roar of sea, Tuneful breezes, O, how sweet ! Loving breezes, Heavenly breezes, Ah, divine ! All the essence Of your presence Make it mine. With your grace my heart endow, Keep it always sweet as now, To your purity I bow, Loving breezes, Ah, divine ! SONNET. Like some great tear transformed to liquid gold, The evening star hangs tremulously clear, And near it lines of crimson cloud appear, Whose beauty makes the heart leap to behold ; Reflected, and repeated many fold, Upon the gentle river flowing near, To loving eyes a beauty shines, more dear Than star and cloud in their own place can hold. For lo ! the glories of the waning west Are wrought to lovelier issue by the play Of wavering lights, and ceaseless interflow Of form and color on the river s breast, Where Mystery seems her heavenly hand to lay, And somewhat of diviner grace bestow. MY LOVE IS LIKE A FLAME. My love is like a flame that circles me, And I the dusky centre in that flame : Changed by its light, all things on land and sea Wear a new beauty, bear a sweeter name. O blessed flame ! O pure, transforming light ! When thou art summoned death s eclipse to bear, Thy shadowy centre will dissolve in night, And die of its own darkness and despair ! A NIGHT SONG. Upon the vast mid-silence of the night, A forest-bird awakens into song ; So sweet he sings, and with such joyous might, The dark wood rings with music loud and long. Alas, deluded songster ! yonder light Thou hailest thus is not the coming day ; T is but the pallid moon deceives thy sight, And with false promise steals thy song away. Yet, not in vain hast thou with woodland art Moved unto melody the midnight air ; For thou hast eased my overburdened heart, And long thy heavenly chant will linger there. DIVINE COMPASSION. Weary with the unavailing struggle After light, when days were naught but darkness, Utterly cast down beneath the burden Of appalling doubt, and dread foreboding, Whose despair heaped mountains on my spirit, Crushing faith, and stifling high endeavor- Tired of these, and longing for deliverance, " Come, soul- winging Death," I cried, " and bear me From this prison-house, where Mystery holds us In a mesh no hand of man may sever." Winds of night, that roused the gentle valley Rudely from repose, and o er the forest Poured a song of noisy lamentation, Sank at last upon the breast of Silence. 20 DIVINE COMPASSION. 21 Black and angry was the face of heaven With the host of clouds that stormed across it, Shutting out the eyes of night, and shedding Deathly gloom on all that lay beneath them. But behind the fury-driven vapors Waited peace ; for soon the clouds departed, And behold ! the shadow-smile of heaven. From the silent chambers of the midnight Came a message of divine compassion. Voiceless to the ear, its tones were vibrant, Full of hope and vivifying gladness To my heavy, grief-enshrouded spirit. Winds arose again, but now melodious, Bearing on their wings a song of triumph. And again the voices of the forest Swelled, but chanted peace. Despair was van quished In the light of hope, that beamed effulgent With the glory of a joy eternal. SONG. The winds will come, the winds will go, The buds will burst, the flowers will blow, The seas will always ebb and flow, And naught remain the same. The love I bear thee fares not so ; T will never fail, t will never go, But, steadfast more than words can show, T will burn, a deathless flame. 22 BE PATIENT, HEART. A voice, a something in me wakes And sings sweet music all day long, As some close hidden warbler makes - The vale melodious with his song. Yet, often as my weak hand tries To give the yearning child a tongue, I hear but inarticulate cries, The message still remains unsung. Be patient, heart, await the word ; Thy haste subdue, thy strings attune To songs of wind, and stream, and bird, And all the notes of this glad June. 23 24 BE PATIENT, HEART. Dwell in the woods, and let them play Upon thee, thrill thee through and through ; Bathe in the golden light of day, And drink the pearls of evening dew. When they have wrought within thee so That thou art one with all things fair, When in thy soil the roses grow And through thy chamber breathes the air, Then thou shalt sing as free as they, As sweet as theirs thy song shall rise ; The bars that hold shall fall away, Thy song mount upward to the skies. WOOING IN VAIN. Though I woo her, The Goddess scorns to sing ; Though I sue her, She never moves a wing, But holds herself aloof, Nor cares for my behoof. I will woo no more, but wait ; For her coldness will abate By and by, and she will come, and rest In the deepest chamber of my breast. If too long I plead, Though at length she heed, I may find her, not a heavenly maid, But a sorry, inharmonious jade, With eye that sees obscurely, With voice that sings not purely, With coarse and vulgar face, Devoid of all that breathes poetic grace, 25 A SUMMONS. Weary toiler, come away ! Woods are green, fields are gay, Everywhere the winds are playing, Over rocky summits straying, Over meadows, where the grass Bows to gentle breaths that pass, Where divinely fragrant flowers are blowing, Where the vernal tide of life is flowing. Every living thing Celebrates the spring With a song, While along By the banks of running streams, Voices whisper sweet as dreams. 26 A SUMMONS. 27 Overhead, the trees Rustle in the breeze, Hearing many a secret tale Brought from far-off hill and dale, Tales of woodland bowers Filled with fragrant flowers ; Tales of happy things that skip and run, Sparkling waters laughing in the sun. Come forth, O friend ! come forth, and see How heavenly fair the world can be ; Come with me, and you shall rest On the mountain s rugged breast ; Come, and learn the peace of balmy vales, Breathe the perfume of the flying gales. Zephyrs there will meet you, All things fair will greet you, Nature s songs will harmonize Your weary heart with bending skies, 28 A SUMMONS. And every joyous thing Will wake your heart to sing. Beneath those skies Grand paeans rise Out of the valley of peace, Flying abroad, till they cease Their glad, melodious flight In the hush of the rapturous night. Come away, poor, burrowing mole ! Leave this prison of the soul Where you waste the hours And misuse your powers. You shall rest your weary eyes On a host of clouds that rise From waters rolling far away, Beyond the outer realms of day. In forms of snowy white, In fields of heavenly light, A SUMMONS. 29 From the farthest western lands To the eastern sea-girt sands, High above in splendid masses, All day long the legion passes. If they shine too dazzling bright On your unaccustomed sight, Turn your toil-worn eyes away To those restful forms of gray That like a field Elysian lie Above the mountains in the southern sky. Come, and hear the joyful notes From a thousand feathered throats. Such a beauty all around is springing, Such a sweetness every breeze is bringing, Through the forest shades, Through the sunny glades, And the winding streams along, That joy runs over into song. 30 A SUMMONS. Down the great ledges of stone Rushes the brook, with a tone So utterly clear And sweet to the ear, It will make your heart happy to hear. Winds will woo you And renew you, Rouse your spirit, and endue you With the pulse of springing life That through all of nature s forms is rife. If your heart is sore opprest, If you long for perfect rest, You shall wander where Scarce a breath of air Stirs the leafy walls Of dim woodland halls. Never song of jubilant bird In that placid vale is heard, A SUMMONS. 3i But calmly, from remotest depths, the dove Breathes forth the simple story of his love. Mortal voice nor footfall ever sounds In the precincts of those hallowed grounds : No rude presence breaks the perfect calm That abides there, like a heavenly balm. A glory lies on every hand, Over realms of sea and land. Come then, toiler, ere it be too late ; Nature calls you, but she will not wait. Come from darkness unto day ; Nay, tarry not, but come, O come away ! AN OFFERING. No gift of precious gems I bear, Nor gold, nor aught that wealth commands, But things that prove themselves more rare A loyal heart, and willing hands. Relentless Time, whose hard decrees Condemn all riches to decay, Shall purify and strengthen these, To serve you till your latest day. HOPE. Through the depth of my soul s dark cloud, Through my spirit s enveloping shroud, A great light came, As the light of a conquering flame. And the sound of a voice I heard, As the song of a carolling bird, Whose heaven-sent lay Drove the compassing vapors away. And the path of my future was sweet With flowers that invited my feet, And skies grew clear, And glowed with a smile of good cheer. And over an orient sea A white hand beckoned to me, Till my storm-beat soul Saw the light of its ultimate goal. 33 A NIGHT RIDE. T is a gallop of hungering fire, For my heart is ablaze with desire ! Through his sinewy frame Yorick thrills to the flame Of my love, and he never can tire. His shoulders are massive and strong, His stride is elastic and long, And the rhythmical beat Of his musical feet Is sweet as the swing of a song. He exults in the speed of the race, In the spring and the stretch of his pace ; For our swift course lies 34 A NIGHT RIDE. 35 Toward the light of her eyes Toward the wonderful light of her face. Away ! my good lad, to the strand ; Away ! to the edge of the land. When the gallop is o er And you stand at her door, You shall feel the caress of her hand. Though fleet as an arrow he flies, Though sundering space swiftly dies, My heart cries " Oh, haste ! All time is a waste Till I drink of her soul at her eyes ! " Far down the dark land, where the lea Is caressed by the lip of the sea, Pure and sweet as the May, Fresh and bright as the day, A maiden holds night-watch for me. A NIGHT RIDE. My heart is athrob with delight ; For there, in the depth of the night, Like a soul-guiding star In the heavens afar, I catch the faint gleam of her light. Ho ! for the beacon that gleams ! For the light of her passion that streams ! The fire in my heart Like a flame-feathered dart, Leaps forth and unites with its beams. The gloomy pine-forest is past, The sea-meadow opens at last ; Now away to her door By the billowy shore, Like a home-winging bird on the blast ! Oh ! listen, love ; listen and hear The hurrying hoofs coming near. A NIGHT RIDE. 37 Let the eloquent air, As it tosses your hair, Sing the sounds of approach to your ear. At last ! draw rein it is o er ! Yet, Yorick, one mighty leap more ! O er the gate at a bound Up the lane to the ground- A shadowy form at the door. TO THE POET. Buried in the shadows of the forest, The wood-bird pours his notes. Where the mountain heavenward rears its summit, The wind-voice breathes its song. Though no mortal hears they care not, Heeding nought beyond the songs they sing. O my Poet, though the world contemn thee, And pass thee by unheard, Though the loftiest breathings of thy spirit Awake no answering tone, Be thou faithful to the power within thee, Be thou ever happy in thy song. TO MY MUSE. Fly, my Muse, with all fair things that be, And bring the spirit of beauty back to me. Follow the stream, my Muse ; Listen, and bring me news Of the shadow-haunted fell, Of the blossom-scented dell, Of the limpid mother-fountain, High upon the rugged mountain. Listen close, and hear it sing How the hours forever bring Mists that creep, and dews that fall, Rains that bring new life to all. How the mountain to his breast Draws them, holds them there at rest 39 40 TO MY MUSE. Till they seem a part Of his very heart ; How he gives them forth again, Sends them singing to the main, Saying, " Ye are part of me ; Go, and mingle with the sea." Mount, and meet the clouds on high, Whose glory of color emblazons the sky ; Rise where the topmost crest Answers the darkening West With a farewell glow, While, sleeping below In the arms of encompassing night, Earth glimmers, and fades on the sight. Mount to the cirri, that play With winds that bear them away ; That flare like flames, and curl, As through the rare ether they whirl TO MY MUSE. 41 In a swift, mad race To be first, when the face Of dawn peeps over the edge of the sea, To blush with her ravishing kisses, and flee On, on to day s hot fire, And melt in the bliss of attained desire. Away, my muse ! away ! Into the west with the day ! Speed with thy might, Fly with the night, Fly with the shadowy hours of delight ! Hasten, nor brook delay ! Away ! Away ! Flow with the waters free, Journey afar with the sea. Leap with the dash and the roar, Mingle with breakers that buffet the shore, 42 TO MY MUSE. Whither the storm may flee, Follow the sea. Float, float, at rest, Float on ocean s breast ; Where the glassy waters lie Tranquil as the bending sky. Still, still, beneath the noonday light, Still, still, beneath the dome of night. On the long, majestic swell Sleep, sleep, and learn the spell Of the waters rising, falling, Spirit-soothing, sense-enthralling. Fly, my muse, with all fair things that be, And bring the spirit of beauty back to me. TO THE WOOD THRUSH. O bright brown bird ! O master-bird of song ! Your music thrills and melts me to a mood Of breathless ecstasy ! From out the grove Of lofty trees, whose unincumbered trunks Raise toward the sky their canopy of leaves, You fill the soul of morning with delight. Some tones in common other songsters sing, But yours are yours alone. That higher gladness, That tone of calm aloofness in the strains, Is never heard from other throat than yours. The song is minor, yet is never sad ; It seems the voice of a tender spirit, poised In saintly contemplation of sweet things. Methinks you care not for variety ; 43 44 TO THE WOOD THRUSH. But having listened well to nature s sounds To bird notes, and the notes of singing streams The ever-changing harmonies of the wind The eager hope that fills the song of Morn The larger music of consoling Night You blend the very soul of every tone, And pour it forth in this clear, woodland song. In vain I try to find some word, or phrase, Or symbol, that shall show the quality That gives the charm, and makes your song su preme. Yours only is the master power to move My inner sense with intervals as sweet, As full of joy, as those at heaven s gate That yester-night I wept to in my dreams. Some metal, finer than the world has known, If rightly shaped, and blown upon by winds That move it to vibration, might give forth TO THE WOOD THRUSH. 45 Such perfect tones as these. But never, sure, Can thought attain to such sweet bliss of sound As holds me while you pour upon my ear The rapture of those round, slow, trill-like tones. Sing on, my Silver-throat ! I lie among The flowers, that listen with me, and I hear A voice arisen from the golden days Long past, when men were well content to sit And listen in sweet leisure to the sounds Of Nature, mother-singer of the world. Moved by the classic beauty of your song My soul floats backward to that distant time, And hears fresh music in the running stream, A tone of new-born gladness in the wind. AT DAWN. Awake, my lady fair ! Dawn is in the air ! In the eastern portals low Morning spreads her ruddy glow. From the lusty robin s throat Songs of salutation float Over the meadow wide, By the river s side, Where the nodding buttercup Holds its golden saucer up With a welcome gay To the growing day. The world is at her freshest now ; Come and see, my dearest, how 46 AT DAWN. 47 Everything seems to spring With the life the sunbeams bring. Haste ! O haste ! Come and taste This bounding joy Without alloy ; For when the sun mounts high, The sweetest part will die. Streams are singing, Birds are flinging All around Pearls of sound, From the trees, the twigs, the ground. Beads of dew Wait for you, Hold the thirsty sun at bay Till your feet shall pass their way. Things the sweetest, things the rarest, Wait to welcome you, my fairest ; At DAWN. But the fondest greeting lies Here, beloved, in my eyes. Lady mine, come forth and see ; Come, O come to me ! THE FOREST STREAM. Far in the depth of the forest Wanders the fairest of waters. Songs of the woodland it murmurs, Caught from the wind in the branches, From the deep chant of the pine tree, From the light voice of the maple. Songs of melodious warblers, Cries of swift birds in their passage, Flying above in the darkness Unto the great Sleeping Water. Calls of the conquering eagle, Vanishing notes of the wood-dove, Love-tones of shy, furry creatures All are absorbed and commingled In the sweet song of the water. 49 50 THE FOREST STREAM. Branches bend down from above it, Sweep it with gentle caresses. On the great boulders, the mosses Gleam with an emerald brightness, Shine with the spray drops they gather Where the stream tosses and tumbles. Happy the days when I follow Gentle and sweet Singing Water, Led as a child by the streamlet, Through the dim aisles of the forest. O ! the rare beauty it gathers Unto itself, as it dances Through the great heart of the woodland ! Softly it gurgles and murmurs Out of its innermost currents, Singing the wonderful secrets Learned in the bosom of nature. Where the stream pauses and widens THE FOREST STREAM. 51 Into a pool, with the margin Rising abruptly above it, Guarded in silent seclusion By the great trees, with their branches Spreading and crossing in shadow, There do I oftentimes linger, Gazing down into the water. In the clear depths I discover Borders of grasses and blossoms, Masses of sheltering verdure, And, perchance, gleaming below them, Far below branches and tree tops, Greets me the azure of heaven. Happy, O child of the forest, Happy your life in the wildwood. Nature, your brown-breasted mother, Lovingly close to her bosom Holds you, and while the deep midnight 5 2 THE FOREST STREAM. Filters its starlight upon you, While the bright blaze of the noontide Lightens your face through the shadows, Closer she holds you, and softly Whispers unknowable secrets. MINE. I know a stream of pure delight, that flows Through quiet ways, and everywhere it goes, Joy dances after With song and laughter. Sweet purity defends it, Love every beauty lends it, And from its source, Throughout its course, The fairest grace attends it. Not alone to eyes of mine Does this queen of waters shine. Many a one that loves it, knows How serenely sweet it flows, From mysterious regions bringing 53 54 MINE. Beauties rare, and sweetly singing Strains that wake the heart to gladness, Raise it to a gentle madness, Under whose transforming power New delights illumine every hour. But to me, to me alone, Is that finer beauty shown That beneath the surface lies, Hidden from all other eyes. Grace and sweetness meet my gaze In those depths, and lo ! the rays Of an inner light I see, Many-hued, that shines alone for me. And the under-currents sing Melodies that ring, and ring Through my heart of hearts in perfect harmony. Deep I gaze, and there I see my face, so fair MINE. 55 That scarce I know it ; For the waters show it Freed of every line that mars. And a light as pure as Ijght of stars, Tender as the blue of skies, Beams upon me from the eyes. And my thoughts are rendered back to me By that face of purity, Lucent as the light of day, With all the dark and gross refined away. Sing out ! Sing out for joy, my heart ! The stream is mine, and never will we part. TO A DYING FRIEND. Methought I stood upon a lofty hill, And saw, above the dim horizon line, Lighting the westward portals of the South, The slender moon. So passing fair it shone So like a thing of heaven that to gaze Upon its face with my unhallowed eyes Seemed profanation. Slowly came a cloud From the remotest chambers of the sky. Sombre as night it was ; of hideous shape, Like some devouring monster. On it crept, With slow, resistless pace, until its long, Gaunt, forward-reaching arms embraced the moon, That seemed to shrink away in helpless fright. Then came the creature s body ; and the orb Was swallowed up within it, and devoured. 56 TO A DYING FRIEND. 57 I turned away in horror at the sight, And wept that aught so pure and beautiful Should suffer black destruction. Then, methought, While evening winds went wailing, and all things Seemed weeping with me at the sad eclipse, From out the air above a gentle voice, In sweetest tones, spake solace to me thus : " Be comforted. The orb whose loss you mourn Is not a waning, but a crescent moon ; And though t is hidden from your vision now, Another night will see it shine aloft In full-orbed majesty. Such glorious light, Such amplitude of beauty, will it show, That all the earth will gladden at the sight." Thus reassured, I turned again ; and lo ! Where I had seen a monster in the sky, With truer sight I now beheld a shape Whose face was calm, beneficent, and sweet. BEYOND WORDS. In vain in vain I cannot tell thee, Sweet, How more than life I love thee ; My tongue as well might number all the sands, Or name the stars above me. Not though I chose the choicest words e er penned In praise of Love s best treasure, And coined one perfect, soul-entrancing phrase, In Love s divinest measure. But think how yonder pallid maid, the moon, Is worshipped by the ocean, Whose pulses through the ages rise and fall In measureless devotion. 58 BEYOND WORDS. 59 Think how that mighty lover evermore His million voices raises Throughout his vast dominions round the world, To chant his lady s praises. High as the moon above the ocean reigns, So high thou art above me ; With passion far outreaching ocean s realms, Eternally I love thee ! SPRING. When the Maiden came, her presence, Like a rare, ethereal essence, Scarce was known, she stole so shy, Shrinking from the bitter sky, Stepping tip-toe here and there With a foot as light as air. On the hills, a tender flush, A rosy-purple blush, Showed the spirit rife Of the newly wakened life. They that love her well Felt the mystic spell, Felt their blood rush full and free, As the sap runs in the tree. 60 SPRING. 6 1 Signs they found where shooting branches grow, By streams whose liberated waters flow ; Where, between the morn and night, The willow buds all burst in white. They read the welcome news In the tender hues Of many a verdant spray, That lustier throve with every fostering day. Many a time hath she been here, Many a time hath fled in fear ; For old Winter, loth to yield his place, Met her joyance with a frowning face ; And from his icy mouth He blew upon the South A sudden breath Of chilly death. But all his stormy buffetings were vain, For though he smote her, yet she came again ; And ever she came stronger, 62 SPRING. And ever she stayed longer. Half she fought him, half she wooed him, Half she bade, and half she sued him, Growing gentler day by day As his fury passed away. Each groping root, Each springing shoot, Every leaf that met the sight, Every vine that sought the light, And streams that gurgled all Because the icy thrall Was melting fast And could not last, Here, and there, and everywhere, Brought resistless power to bear On the Maiden s foe, Till his valor melted low. Then with willing vines she bound him, Threw her rosy arms around him, SPRING. 63 Charmed him with her violet eyes, Soothed his anger, hushed his sighs, Held him, drew him to her breast, Lapped him in forgetful rest. And the Maiden sang, And the music rang In the dying Monarch s ears As the music of the spheres. She sang so sweet, she sang so long, She overcame him with her song. Into hers she drew his breath, And lured him, calm and powerless, unto Death. And now, O happy day ! The Maiden s here to stay. She, the wonder-singer, She, the sweet joy bringer ; Spirit, potent everywhere, In the waters, in the air, Leaping with the pulsing light, 64 SPRING. Resting in the silent soul of night. Would you view her from afar ? She is in the morning star ; Would you have her near ? She awaits you here In every thing that grows, In every happy stream that flows. Do but hear how divinely she sings ! Do but see the rare beauty she brings ! Hear the music of caroling birds ; Hear the lowing and bleating of herds ; Hear the long, low sigh of the pines By the pool, where the night star shines. Her banner of hope is unfurled, Her mantle envelops the world. Buried beauty receives a new birth, The spirit of joy is abroad on the earth. NIGHTFALL FROM THE MOUNTAIN. The last beam fades, the peace of evening falls, Upon the broad domain of dying day Broods saintly Silence, save that, faint and sweet, The sound of evening bells in shadowed vales Floats, a sweet chant of rest, o er all the land. It steals along the placid lakes and streams, Up the vast reaches of the mountain side, Lingers a moment on this height, and wakes A sense of rapture in the listening ear Ere soaring skyward from this baser mould, To join the harmonies at heaven s gate. Rising from out the wooded gulf that yawns A measureless depth below, the fragrant breath 65 66 NIGHTFALL FROM THE MOUNTAIN. Of forests never trod by foot of man, Like nature s balmy benediction, floats Upon the pulseless bosom of the air. Sweet is the breath as airs from flowery isles Exhaled upon the waves of moonlit seas, And pure as winds that never visit earth, But spread the glowing fields, and build the domes And towering pinnacles of upper air. Born of the shade, and nourished where the peace Of everlasting solitude abides, It comes from inmost depths, where mighty trees Throughout the lapse of silent centuries Forever dream, and hear the silent voice That sounds in nature s kindly ministrations, And earthward-flowing harmonies of the stars. The summit of yonder neighboring peak, that glowed But now, as glows a sacrificial fire, NIGHTFALL FROM THE MOUNTAIN. 67 Against the vault of slowly darkening blue, Has donned the sober garments of the night, And looms, an awful shadow on the sky. The varying shades that on that nearer height Revealed the mighty, springing buttresses, Like living things, with gorges sunk between, Are all absorbed in one expanse of gray. Between the summits slowly trailing clouds, Like spotless messengers, bear secret words, And sweet, mysterious greetings, each to each. Slow, slow and gentle as soul-soothing Death, Calm darkness gathers, bearing balmy sleep, Boon of the East unto the weary West. Nature, great-hearted mother, draws me close, Whispers her consolations, from my heart Drives all its petty worldliness, and breathes Thereon a great, soul-satisfying peace. All through the night, all through the solemn night, 68 NIGHTFALL FROM THE MOUNTAIN. Within whose bosom Nature hides her face, The mountain top shall be my place of rest. Perchance my spirit, cleansed and purified By this aloofness from the world of men, This nearness to the world of heaven s stars, May somewhat from the silent voices learn, And draw sweet comfort from the heart of night. AN INVITATION. Who will come with me and wander Through the hills and valleys yonder ? He whose torpid spirit never feels The touch of nature s manifold appeals, Who never soars, but, well contented, crawls Among these city walls, Such a sluggard shall not be Fellow-traveller with me. He whose heart rejoices With all woodland voices, He who finds in zephyr strains Recompense for all his pains, Who hath a lover s eye For the colors of the sky, 69 70 AN INVITATION. And drinks the eager morning air As a draught from worlds more fair, Such an one shall come, and be Fellow-traveller with me. Away, then ! away ! Who would brook delay When the very air invites To the ever new delights That await us, where the daughter Of the forest, Laughing Water, Flings her liquid song upon the breeze, Blends it with the music of the trees In a symphony, whose measures Sing of undiscovered treasures For discerning eye and ear Alone to see, alone to hear ? Master Glossy-coat, the cricket, From his little grassy thicket, AN INVITATION. 71 Chirps his message loud and shrill, " Live with joy, and fear no ill." Robins sing with lusty throats, Launch abroad their joyful notes, Whose tones of hearty cheer Proclaim the hey-day of the year. Hush ! Oh, hush ! T is the tawny thrush Pouring out his lay To the ear of dying day So divinely sweet and clear, Heaven itself might joy to hear. Sit beneath the trees and listen ; You shall hear them all. You shall see the waters glisten, You shall see them fall Down, down from the edge Of the overhanging ledge 72 AN INVITATION. To the rock encircled pool, Where they tarry, clear and cool, Ere they dance away Boisterous and gay, Rushing swiftly, stealing slow, To the meadow lands below. Come, O come, my friend, and be Fellow-traveller with me. SPRING NIGHT. Homeward I went from thee, beneath the light Of spring-tide moon and stars, whose wondrous show Of beauty o er the firmament of night Filled my glad heart to tearful overflow. The zephyr-voice of nature breathed a song Of praise more sweet than ever art of man Could frame in words or music ; and along The tender sky, an unsubstantial span Of clouds as faint as fleecy foam of sea, Lay like heaven s smile, above earth s shadowed face ; And all things, filled with holy ecstasy, Seemed to give thanks for this most heavenly grace. I too gave thanks, that I this sight should see, But more, for my heart s love, and thine for me. 73 THE PINE TREE. Long ago, upon a mountain headland Grew a pine tree. Far above its fellows Raised the tree its host of spreading branches, Held its green against the blue of heaven. First to catch the light, as happy Morning Laughed her glow along the low horizon ; Last to lose the gleam, when dark-eyed Evening Drew her veil, and sending forth her shadows, Wooed the world to prove the sweets of slumber. Through the night, the multitude of branches Made an inner night of deeper blackness, Where the owls, and things that love the darkness, Came and sat long hours, and with the midnight 74 THE PINE TREE. 75 Held communion. And by day the warblers, Yellow-throated, hopped along the branches, Or with sprightly, silent wing went flitting ; And the burden of the song they uttered Was the very soul of dreamy languor, Suiting well the faint, mysterious music Of the pine beneath the sultry noontide Blending with it as the zephyr mingles With the far-off music of the ocean. Through the changes of unnumbered seasons Had the mountain held this lofty wood-king, Springing heavenward like an aspiration. And by day and night, while centuries vanished, Winds had played with varying stress upon it, From the light caresses of the zephyr, To the wrenching fury of the tempest. And the tree became a wondrous singer, Strenuous, vibrant, true in all its fibres, 76 THE PINE TREE. Harmonizing with the soul of nature. Every tone of every song it uttered Whether loud, as roars the flood of waters Rushing furious down the mountain gorges ; Whether soft, as sighs the breath of noonday Drifting dreamily above the forest- Was the voice of root, and trunk, and branches, Mingled all in one accordant heart-song. From the vault-illuming constellations In eternal march across the heavens, Silent songs descended ; and the pine tree Heard the chorus of their mingled voices Pulsing through the palpitating ether, Sweet and gentle as the soul of silence, Large and gracious with a love eternal. Hushed with awe the mighty monarch listened. Then with reverent voice he breathed responses, Sang a sacred soul-song to the star-world. THE PINE TREE. 77 When the winds came raging, and the tempest Stirred the pulse of night to wild commotion When the sky was luminous with lightning And the hills were shaken with the thunder Then the pine tree revelled in the tumult, As the warrior glories in the battle. Oh! the sight was noble, when the monarch, Singing to the ear of night his anthems, Roaring back responses to the storm-king, Was revealed by sheeted lightning, standing As a lofty, pointed mass of blackness, Tossing to and fro against the heavens In the joy of elemental fury ! Ages since have flown ; and now the pine tree Stands no more upon the mountain headland. On the lofty place that knew and loved him Countless trees have grown and died ; but never One that held its head so high to heaven, 78 THE PINE TREE. Never one that sang such glorious anthems, Sang so sweetly to the jocund morning, Chanted so divinely to the midnight. TRANSFORMATION. Only a hut, as mean, to thee, As any hovel in the land ; A palace fair it is to me, For there I dared to kiss thy hand. Ah, Sweet ! if that can work for me A change so wonderful as this, The whole wide world a heaven will be, When I thy lovely lips may kiss. 79 A VISION OF POESY. On the summits, where rosy-faced Morning en counters black Night, Where shadowy phantoms are routed before the new light, The curtains of darkness were lifted, the world awoke fair on the sight. O er the eastern horizon the Day-God his banner unfurled, Up the gorges like vanishing spirits the vapors were whirled, Day s morning-smile brightened the heavens, and joy flew abroad o er the world. From the depths of the lightening valleys, from blossoming leas, 80 A VISION OF POESY. Si From the vault of encompassing heaven, from thundering seas, She came to her place in her beauty, on the wings of the rapturous breeze. Of the mists of the conquering Morning her gar ments were made, By winds interwoven and fashioned through sun light and shade By tempests that ravage the ocean, by zephyrs that freshen the glade. The breath of the dawn was within her, and deep in her eyes, Transfigured to something diviner, the light of the skies Shone lovely as lingering sunlight, on sea-reaches when the day dies. Her presence was fresh with the odor of opening flowers, 82 A VISION OF POESY. Her glances were lit with the light of her heavenly powers, And forth from her spirit came peace, and the balm of beneficent hours. The song of the pines in the forest, the moan of the firs, The sigh of the larch, that awakens and languidly stirs Their music was heard in her singing, their mys tical meaning was hers. And hers was the voice of the river that courses the plain, The laugh of the stream in the woodland, the song of the rain, The sweep and the rush of the waters that break with a roar on the main. Her voice was the soul of all music that springs undefiled, A VISION OF POESY. 83 As pure as first whispers that waken the heart of a child. She spoke, and the earth paused to listen ; she sang, and the universe smiled. THE MUSE DISDAINFUL. Wandering in the woods one day, I saw my gentle Muse at play. Here she floated, there she flew, This way turning, that way too, Sported at her pleasure, High, and low, and every way, Shedding joy upon the day In a rhythmic measure. Hers was such a protean power, Now she seemed a lovely flower ; Now she seemed to take The semblance of a stream, and wake A joyance with her song, Frolicking along 84 THE MUSE DISDAINFUL. 85 With a merry toss and tumble, With melodious roar and rumble. She was bright with morning dews, She was gay with rainbow hues, And in her face, the might Of more than earthly light Proclaimed her power, And poured a glory into every hour. " Come," I cried, " O thou most fair, To my heart. Come, and chant thy music there, That a part Of the rapture that is thine I may drink, and make it mine ; For my hungry spirit longs To taste the bliss of thy celestial songs." 86 THE MUSE DISDAINFUL. Thus I sued her, thus I pleaded, But my prayer was all unheeded. Here and there, round and round, Through the air, o er the ground, Now she tripped it, now she flew, With a grace forever new. Howsoe er I courted, She but laughed and sported, Still pursued her joyful way, Scorning e en to say me nay. Because my Muse disdained me so, Shall I court Despair ? ah, no ; Rather let me keep good cheer, For again she will appear. If my sense be tuned aright To winds, and trees, and streams, and light,- If the voice of all sweet things that be Find an answering melody in me THE MUSE DISDAINFUL. 87 That shall be a blessed day ; For the Maid will come to me, and stay In my breast, until erelong I may learn some measure of her song. TO THE SEA. Out of thy bosom forever, endlessly striving and yearning, Voicing the pulse of the world, rises thy song, O Sea. Over the globe, from the zone where voices of ice- fettered mountains Answer the roar of thy surge with echoing cry and moan, Unto the sun-warm sands that are glad with the kiss of thy waters, Ever thou lavest the earth, ever thy song flows free. What do I hear in the thundering roar of thy bois terous billows ? What do I hear in the tone of thy wonderful chant, OSea? 88 TO THE SEA. 89 Silent and reverent I wait, till forth from thy mys tical measures Sweetly emerges a voice, sounding an anthem of joy. Under its spell I behold, in the tender effulgence of morning, Fronting emblazoning forms that float on the face of young day, Shores that resound with thy song, and rejoice in thy gentle caresses Sea-loving sands, attired as a bride in a garment of foam. Fresh are the breezes, and sweet ; for they come from the heart of mid-ocean, Bearing a greeting of joy from the deep to the wel coming land. Changed is thy song, O Sea. The beautiful shore is departed, Gone are the glorious skies, vanished the wakening morn. 90 TO THE SEA. The breath of mid-ocean, that came as a zephyr in viting to slumber, Rises, and rises, and swells to a frightful, demoniac roar. Hosts of encountering waves, in the fury of horrid contention, Leaping aloft, are caught in the hurricane s grasp, and borne Skyward, as mists that gather by night in the gorges of mountains Are carried on high by the blustering breath of awak ening day. Ocean and cloud are as one, in a pillar of murky destruction, Whose tortuous path is strewn with ghostly, inani mate forms. Mariners shrieks of despair are drowned in the deafening tumult, TO THE SEA. 91 Wild supplications are lost in the pitiless thunder of doom. Thou fertile purveyor to Death, thy mighty embrace doth encompass The whole broad lands of the earth, and thou liest in wait for thy prey As a merciless monster, whose arms are strong with a strength elemental, Whose jaws are insatiate, whose breast is a vast, un satisfied grave. Changed is thy song, O Sea. Thou art clothed with the shadows of midnight, The voice of thy billows is hushed, thy wandering waves are at rest. Above thee, innumerous stars swing round in majes tic procession, And through the vast reaches of space thou nearest the sound of their song. 92 TO THE SEA. Thou receivest the spirit of Night, and she speaks a dread word to thy waters, That spreads from the heart of thy realms to the bounds of thy farthermost shores. The voice is unheard of man ; but its accents are awful as thunder To the soul of thy fathomless wastes ; and unto the legions of stars, And the vault of encompassing night, and the world of enveloping darkness, Thou whisperest out of thy deeps, thou singest an answering song. O Sea, to my spiritless ear thou art striving and yearning to utter The wordless message the stars, and the measure less realms of night Sang low to thy listening waves. But alas ! as a vanishing echo TO THE SEA. 93 It hovers beyond my ken, and mocks the despair of my heart. For the veil of the flesh is strong that wraps and en cumbers the spirit, And I hearken and wait in vain for the word thou art singing to me. f%^4i*Ir p/*> U.C.BERKELEY LIBRARIES 101697