953 UC-NRLF i. uns SB E74 flflE I S j> oo r- CO LU > m THE UNSEEN KING and Other Poems 9 By CAROLINE LESLIE FIELD BOSTON AND NEW YORK Hougbton, Mifflin and Company Tfie Btberstfce $ress, (STambriUge 1887 t&e game HIGH-LIGHTS. A Novel. i6mo, $1.25. HOUGHTON, MIFFLIN & CO. BOSTON AND NEW YORK. THE UNSEEN KING AND OTHER VERSES BY CAROLINE LESLIE FIELD r BOSTON AND NEW YORK HOUGHTON, MIFFLIN AND COMPANY (Cfce ntoemtre Copyright, 1887, BY CAROLINE LESLIE FIELD. All rights reserved. The Riverside Press* Cambridge : Electrotyped and Printed by H. O. Houghton & Co. CONTENTS. PAGE THE UNSEEN KING . . . . . i ARBUTUS 12 MEADOW-TALK 13 FUGUE 15 GREETING 18 A BUTTERCUP 19 MYSTERY 21 To A PICTURE OF POLLY IN HER GRANDMOTH- ER'S DRESS 22 Two MOTHERS 24 ATTAR OF ROSE 27 IDLESSE 28 IM FRUHLING . 30 WOOD-MAGIC 32 FOURSCORE . . . . . . . 37 IN RESPONSE TO A SERENADE . . . -39 LIFTED UP 41 MIDWINTER 42 CAPRICE . . 44 How? 46 IN THE DARK 48 M195648 IV CONTENTS. BON VIVANT 51 THE STARS AND THE BELL . . . . 53 SAFE-FOLDED 56 ESTRAYED 57 AN AUTOGRAPH 58 EPHEMERA 60 RAINBOW-GOLD ....... 61 HOPE 63 How SPRING CAME 65 A FIR-CONE 67 A JUNE NIGHT 68 A COLUMBINE HORN 70 MOUNTAIN LAUREL 72 Acknowledgment is due to Messrs. HARPER & BROTHERS, in whose periodical, " Harper's Young People," the poem " How Spring Came " first appeared. THE UNSEEN KING. >HERE came a day when King Abiah knew That he must lay aside his earthly crown, And yield his sceptre unto other hands; Wherefore, to all the people of his realm Assembled, sorrowing, he spake these words : "Weep not, O friends, that I too tread the way Whence never foot may swerve, nor soul re- turn ! All men have come, and all must surely go. This life is but a passage, not a pause ; Who called us hither also calls us hence. And, verily, I know He calls us all, Though some there be who seem to hearken not ; For at the first, when ye had chosen me, 2 > , THE UNSEEN KING. Who am a Jew, to be your lord and king, I grieved me much at your idolatry, And strove to turn ye from it, to the truth, But found ye stubborn. Then my anger burned Fiercely within me, fueled by my love ; Till, having called on ye so long in vain, I turned my face away and called on God. Straightway He made me answer : ' Thinkest thou, O man, my strength avails not to destroy The idols of this people ? Yet I cause My rain to fall for them, my sun to shine ; Go thou, too, and do likewise ! ' And I went; And, growing clearer-eyed with added years, Have come to see how every fruitful force Doth from the inward to the outward work, Never inversely. From the buried seed Which needs must lie in darkness for a time, Beneath the blessed touch of sun and rain, Till their united influence shall swell Its hidden germ to bursting and to bloom, Learn we the secret of the soul of man. UNSEEN KING. 3 God's love is limitless ; his patience, too, Knoweth no end ; and both shall work, un- seen, Among this people, till, for very shame Of its own hardness, every heart shall swell, As doth the seed, to bursting with its love ; And, hurling from it all that hems it in Or weighs it down, shall lift its quickening life To Him who made it for this very end." He paused ; but all the people rested mute, Save for the smothered sounds which told their grief, And, gathering his strength, the king went on : " There dwells among you one whom ye know not, My only son, whose face ye have not seen; Yet his shall be the kingdom. Honor him, Love and obey him, and it shall be well With you and with your children. Marvel not 4 THE UNSEEN KING. For that he rules invisible ; by its fruits Of peace and plenty shall his reign be known. Wherefore, lest, when ye learn that I have laid My royal robes aside forevermore, And, shorn of purple pomp and princely pride, Gone forth alone, to meet the King of kings, Before whose presence all earth's glories pale, Ye should forget the words I spake to you And all the years through which I sought your good, Swear to me, here, as unto one whose hands Lay hold, even now, upon eternal things, That ye will faithful be unto my son, And serve him truly, with all reverence ! " Once more he ceased; and like the sound of surf Swept shoreward from some deeply troubled sea, Arose a mighty murmur, long and low, Of mingled sorrow and obedience, THE UNSEEN KING. 5 As all that people, upon bended knee, Swore fealty unto Abiah's son. Years rolled away. Within the city's walls Sounded the shouts of children not yet born When good Abiah died; and bearded men, Who then were boys, paced up and down its streets, Buying and selling. Many a voice was still That then had thrilled with sorrow, many an eye That then had wept was closed forevermore, And many a wayworn soul had sought that land Where pain is not and tears are wiped away. But still the people prospered. From within Those palace gates, where dwelt an unseen king, Issued wise laws and counsel. Wealth in- creased, The nation's strength augmented year by year, While everywhere, like the invisible power Which clothes the bare, brown earth with loveliness, 6 THE UNSEEN KING. Was felt a nameless influence, that touched Each load to lighten it, each wound to heal. Great waxed the people's wonder, for they said, " We see him not ; how, then, doth he see us ? " And since, from inbred habit, they must needs Mould each trait spiritual to some outward shape, They strove to figure forth their thought of him In various images of brass and stone. Vain essay ! He had drawn too near to them For any dead, material prototype To satisfy their sense of what he was; And in their souls a mighty longing grew To see and bless him as they did their gods, Those gods whose visible bulk now seemed to them Strangely less real than this unseen king. Long they forbore to utter their desire : But prayer repressed is like the pent-up stream, THE UNSEEN KING. 7 Which gathers force from very prisonment, Till, some fresh surge of impulse urging it, With one wild leap it bursts its bands away, And rushes, headlong, to its instinctive end. The hour came when such an impetus Was given to the already seething tide Of public feeling that the flood-gates broke, And, like a mighty eger uncontrolled, Men, women, children, one resistless throng, Swept through the city to the palace gates. As ocean cliffs abide, immovable, The thunderous onslaught of the watery host, So cold, calm, still, those marble battlements Abode the breaking of that human sea About their buttressed base. And as the waves, In mid-career impeded, hurl themselves In wild, white, upward fury, so a cry Deep-born, impassioned, unrestrainable, Rang through the quivering air, to fall again In shattering echoes from the far blue hills : "Oh, let the lord, our king, but suffer us To look, at length, upon his unknown face ! " 8 THE UNSEEN KING. How should he fail to hear them, then, whose ears Were ever open to their faintest cry? Anon the answer came : " Abiah's son Hath heard, and grants, his loyal people's prayer." That instant every eye was riveted Upon the opening gates, which gave to view An inner courtyard, on whose stately steps, In all the glory of his majesty, They should, at last, behold their sovereign. Lo ! as they gazed, there issued forth, alone, In simple raiment, one whom they had known As their unfailing, faithful friend for years : A man whose tireless sympathy had watched By many a dying bed, whose ready smile Had kindled at their joy, whose ready tears Had fallen for their sorrow, and whose hand Was ever prompt to succor and to save. Crownless he stood there, but it needed not Royal insignia to proclaim his worth Unto those ardent people of his realm, Whose grateful hearts had crowned him long ago. THE UNSEEN KING. 9 In utter silence, eloquent, intense, Like the ineffable hush that intervenes Betwixt the lightning-flash and thunder-roll, Breathless they gazed, till following fast upon The keenness of their wonder rushed their py; And deafeningly, from out unnumbered mouths Broke forth one rapturous shout, " Our friend, our king ! " When the last, long reverberation died, In clear, familiar tones was heard the king : " Hearken to me, O people of my love ! Ye see me here a mortal man like you. But think ye that this mortal is your king? Not so, O friends ! That which hath guided you, Which reigneth over you, ye cannot see ; Neither can I behold it. Can ye see Wisdom, and love, and justice ? Ye see me, But ye do not see them ; and they were strong For and amidst you, when ye saw me not. IO THE UNSEEN KING. Judge ye this earthly form. Can the things seen Create, think ye, the things invisible ? I tell you, no ! These feet, these hands, this brain, Are but the tools, the medium, of that love Which knows no end, that wisdom absolute, That personality which we call ' God ' ! To every one of you the full stream flows, Through various channels, though ye know it not For what it is. Never a child is born, Never a flower blooms or fruit matures, Never a human heart creeps close to yours Or finds response, save by this unseen power. That which is in me, also, is not mine, But his, alone, who gave me for your king." He ceased ; but deep within the swelling hearts Of all his people sank his words, as sinks Heaven's softening rain ; his looks upon them fell As falls the sunlight. Lo ! God's time was come, THE UNSEEN KING. 1 1 His perfect time, which balks our measure- ment. From seed long sown in darkness burst, at length, The glad new life, upspringing to the day, As with one voice they cried, exultantly, "Thy God the one true God henceforth be ours, And may his blessing rest upon our king ! " Then turning from that royal audience, With one accord they dashed their idols down, And worshiped Him who is invisible. 12 ARBUTUS. ARBUTUS. |HOU brave, bright, winsome thing! Can no rough weather daunt thee ? Fit prophet of the spring, Rosy with hope despite cold covering, Was it by accident that God did plant thee Just where his chosen people, numb with woe, Yet strong in faith, should find thee, Keeping up cheery heart beneath the snow, Summer before, and winter all behind thee? MEADOW-TALK. 13 MEADOW-TALK. BUMBLE-BEE, yellow as gold, Sat perched on a red-clover top, When a grasshopper, wiry and old, Came along with a skip and a hop. " Good-morrow ! " cried he, " Mr. Bumble-bee. You seem to have come to a stop." " We people that work/' Said the bee, with a jerk, " Find a benefit sometimes in stopping. Only insects like you, Who have nothing to do, Can keep up a perpetual hopping ! " The grasshopper paused on his way, And thoughtfully hunched up his knees. " Why trouble this sunshiny day," Quoth he, " with reflections like these ? I follow the trade for which I was made. We 're not all of us bumble-bees. 14 MEADOW-TALK. " There 's a time to be sad And a time to be glad, A time both for working and stopping ; For men to make money, For you to make honey, And for me to do nothing but hopping ! " FUGUE. 15 FUGUE. fingers on life's hollowed organ- keys We play, with differing theme, the tune of time ; While, through our discords and our harmo- nies, Along the echoing octaves to the skies, Unheld, unhindered, God's sure purports climb. Awhile, with heaven-blinded eyes, we stand In the first bright, unconscious solitude That peoples all the world from fairy-land, And hold instinctively, with lingering hand, The brief, glad cadences of babyhood. Our grasp grows wonted to the sounding maze; A stronger tone takes up the melody; 16 FUGUE. The childish treble of our earlier days Becomes a dream-like memory, that plays Round manhood's full, sonorous symphony. And whence these airy notes that float and grow Now clearly sweet, now vague and shad- owy Athwart a sombre warp, in golden glow, Flashing their magic shuttles to and fro To weave love's Intermediate Harmony ? Hark ! veiled in rolling chords, the theme again, Questioning, eager - tongued, of coming years ; While from afar a stealing minor strain, All palpitating and alive with pain, Breathes back the answer in a sound of tears. A slower movement now, a softer key; From trembling hands of age the old re- frain Wavers to silence. Shall there no more be FUGUE. 17 Of all that has been ? Lo ! across death's sea Heaven echoes back the glad child-song again. 1 8 GREETING. GREETING. BECAUSE no more in any earthly place, Whither I go to sorrow or rejoice, Shall I behold, dear friend, your radiant face Or hear the merry music of your voice ; Because I might not know the day, the hour, That brought God's homeward bidding to your ear, Nor lay so much as one sweet summer flower, With reverent hand, upon your maiden bier, I send you through the mystery to-day, And sorrowing lay, the still, closed past above, Heart's greeting that shall surely find its way, And fadeless blooms of memory and love. A BUTTERCUP. A BUTTERCUP. LITTLE yellow buttercup Stood laughing at the sun, The grass all green around it, The summer just begun ; Its saucy little head abrim With happiness and fun. Near by, grown old and gone to seed, A dandelion grew ; To right and left with every breeze His snowy tresses flew. He shook his hoary head, and said, " I Ve some advice for you. " Don't think, because you 're yellow now, That golden days will last. I was as gay as you are once, But now my youth is past ; This day will be my last to bloom, The hours are going fast. 20 A BUTTERCUP. " Perhaps your fun may last a week, But then you '11 have to die." The dandelion ceased to speak; A breeze that capered by Snatched all the white hairs from his head, And wafted them on high. His yellow neighbor first looked sad ; Then, cheering up, he said, " If one 's to live in fear of death, One might as well be dead." The little buttercup laughed out, And waved his golden head. MYSTERY. 21 MYSTERY. j^HAT is this, in a golden case, Holding its little hands up to its face ; Going tick-tick, tick-tick, tick-tick- tick, Never too slow, and never too quick ? Hold it up to the baby's ear ! Tick-tick-tick, does the baby hear ? Life lies for him in a golden case, The world is a strange and beautiful place. On the border-land of eternity He sweetly wonders what time may be ; For, shut in a watch's narrow rim, It is only a tick-tick-tick to him! 22 TO A PICTURE OF POLLY. TO A PICTURE OF POLLY IN HER GRANDMOTHER'S DRESS. JITTLE maid in quaint array, Underneath the greenwood spray, T5S* With the summer sunshine flecking all the meadow at your feet, Is it but the old-time guise That has made your happy eyes Wear that far-away and dreamy look, so tremulously sweet? 'Tis as if, without a word, Olden memories were stirred Of the time when love and living, with the gown itself, were new. Is it but your thought of her, Questioning the days that were, Or does she who used to wear it thrill to life again in you ? TO A PICTURE OF POLLY. 2$ We may only faintly guess At the story of that dress, How she loved it when she wore it, and whose eyes she sought to please. Leal we know she was, and true, Since she handed down to you Loving heart and faithful purpose with the antique draperies ! Could she see you standing there, In the dress she used to wear, Well I know her thought and ours might in selfsame words be said : "Through the sunshine or the shade, Walk on bravely, little maid ; Flowers of hope along your pathway, palms of peace above your head ! " 24 TWO MOTHERS. TWO MOTHERS. either side a window That opened to the west, They guarded each her treasure, A cradle and a nest. And always when at evening Sank down the summer sun, Four little heads were in the nest, And in the cradle one. Without, the feathered mother Kept faithful watch and ward ; Within, the human mother watched ; Above them watched the Lord. And sitting there in silence Unbroken by a word, There grew to be a bond between The woman and the bird. TWO MOTHERS. 2$ So that when each had cradled Her offspring for the night, She looked to see that all within The other home was right. There came a time of storm without, A time of grief within ; The chair stood vacant, bare the twig Where once a bird had been. And when once more the window Stood open to the west, A saddened human face looked out Upon a shattered nest. Ah, strange the link that bound them Even in grief so great ! " Poor little friend ! " the woman cried, " Are both homes desolate ? " While, perched unseen above her, Upon a woodbine spray, The small brown bird sat mourning Whom she thought far away. 26 TWO MOTHERS. And seeing but the empty crib, The mother all alone, She inly chirped, " Poor thing, poor thing, Her little one has flown ! " The sun sank down ; forsaken Hung either little bed : The human guardian was gone, The sentry bird had fled. Yet still the Lord kept watch above, To give his children rest ; His love was o'er the empty crib, And o'er the empty nest. ATTAR OF ROSE. 27 ATTAR OF ROSE. roses are so sweet as those that grow In the fair Morning-Land, Steeped in perennial summer's golden glow, By airs ethereal fanned. Men hold them precious. Not a bud may fade, Nor one pure petal fall ; In the full flush of beauty undecayed They gently glean them all. And thus the rose that blossomed long ago, In warm lands far away, Breathes its sweet parable, amid the snow, For wistful hearts to-day. Life's rarest blooms God seals perpetual Ere blight their beauty sears. The joys we counted lost are those which shall Make glad the eternal years. 28 IDLESSE. IDLESSE. LIE on my back in a sea of grass, And the white-winged clouds sail over ; The green blades bend as the breezes pass, And, wave-like, rustle their emerald mass, Foam-capped with the sweet white clover. And as mariners know when land is nigh By the gulls that come trooping over, So I am reminded of home close by By the snowy pigeons that swoop and fly, Or restfully poise and hover. Somewhere above, in the world I have left, Wait trial and care unbidden, To wrap me round when again I rise, Like a diver bearing his hard-won prize From depths where the pearls lie hidden. IDLESSE. 29 Yet, awhile, lying drowned in the Lethe sweet Of summer-born dreams and wishes, While the gnarled trees softly drop at my feet Their roseate shells, and, with impulse fleet The swallows slide past like fishes, There steals into being a child-like zest ; The magic of youth still lingers ; And by and by, from my cool, green nest, I shall rise with the fair white pearl of rest Clasped close in my weary fingers. 30 IM FRUHLING. IM FRUHLING. g LITTLE child, knee-deep in mea- dow grasses, Her tiny apron heaped with blooms of spring; Lightly above her head the soft wind passes, Sweetly along her way the blue-birds sing. Quick fly the eager glances hither, thither, The little grasping fingers know no bound ; Already some fair buds begin to wither, Some softly drop, unnoticed, to the ground. No matter now! the world is full of sweet- ness, Stretches the field before her wide and gay ; Blithe little heart, that knows no incom- pleteness, No touch of gloom in all the sunny day! IM FRUHLING. 31 Ah ! gladly take what spring-time brings of gladness, Each tender-blossomed joy of childhood's hour ! For days will come when, treading slow in sadness, Thou may'st search vainly for one wayside flower. 32 WOOD-MAGIC. WOOD-MAGIC. DEE, it is June ! The sun beats hot, The cattle drowse in the upland lot, And the rose hangs heavy upon her stem, Bereft of her dewdrop diadem ; The clover patches with wings are gay, Sweet voices call from the woodland way. Come, little one, come ; your hand, your hand ! Let us go for a stroll through Fairyland. Down with these rough-hewn pasture-bars ! See how the green is flecked with stars, Scattered by free hand near and far, The fine, small bloom of Houstonia. From the far-off hills blow breezes sweet, The many-voiced brooklet sings at our feet, While, with waving branches, the hemlocks stand To beckon us on into Fairyland. WOOD-MAGIC. 33 Let me bend aside this barrier-bough ! We are treading enchanted country now. Around us numberless odors breathe ; Mysterious spells about us wreathe ; There is magical music in the air, And magical influence everywhere. The things we see, are they what they seem, Or do we walk in a waking dream? That fiery speck amid the trees, Swaying and dancing in the breeze, Is it a columbine, mayhap, Or is it the nodding scarlet cap Of some drowsy fairy sentinel, Asleep at his small post? Who can tell? Step cautiously as you pass the line, Lest he wake, and demand the countersign ! Hark to the ceaseless under-whirr Of things that rustle, and creep, and stir ! Swift through the green leaves overhead Flash two quick wings and a gleam of red, While a gush of melody, clear and bright, Floats from cool coverts out of sight. 34 WOOD-MAGIC. Is it only a bird of the summer air, Or is there a prince, enchanted, there ? Hush, look! from the dark mould, at our feet, Born of the damp and the sunless heat, Rises a presence, still and white, Shimmering with an unearthly light. You can feel the silence in which it grew, Child of the darkness and the dew. Is it a flower, or is it most Like the shrouded form of some woodland ghost ? Here the trees in a circle stand; Tis surely the heart of Fairyland! And this clear space, where the grass grows green, Is the chosen haunt of the fairy queen. These pitcher-plants are her serving-men, That one tall flag is high-chamberlain ; When the full moon rises her court will meet. Beware! there is danger for mortal feet. WOOD-MAGIC. 35 But whence this sound, as we wind along, Like a laughing sigh or a sobbing song ? Is it some gay sprite with a secret pain, Or only our friend, the brook, again ? Let us follow on where it twists and turns Half hidden beneath its fringe of ferns With ceaseless babblement, as it flows, Of every secret the woodland knows. See how the damp rocks, hung with green, Lean to each other ; while, down between, Rushes and leaps the madcap stream. Where the water breaks, do you catch the gleam Of a .shimmering, fleecy robe or, stay ! Is it only the light on the dancing spray? How sparkling the water is, and cool ! There be jewels here, in this hidden pool. Here is a white pearl for you, see ! And here is an emerald for me. Let us fill our hands with the lovely things. Do fairy riches, like ours, have wings ? Will they fade and crumble, as did of yore That wreath which the Moorish maiden wore ? 36 WOOD-MAGIC. What was that ? Did an elfin trumpet blow ? "A locust," say you? It may be so. But look ! the sunshine is stealing in ; The pines and hemlocks are wearing thin ; I have seen that withered oak before, These gems are pebbles, and nothing more. The spell is broken, the dream is flown, We walk no more through a realm unknown. Ah, faithless brook, with your murmurs bland You have lured us away from Fairyland ! FOURSCORE. 37 FOURSCORE. TO C. R. D., 1878. can I say of one whose feet have pressed So far beyond me on life's trodden way That shall not seem presumptuous at the best? What is there left for any one to say That the long epic of his eighty years Has not said first and better? For his ears The past hath songs no other understands ; And pleasant memories of many lands Make noonday brightness in his evening time. Varied the childhood, full the youth, he knew; One of the here and there remaining few Who, in their early manhood's golden prime, Saw, beyond Belgian hills, the sun go down 38 FOURSCORE. On a red field with brave dead covered o'er, That field which cost a conqueror his crown, And crowned a great man conqueror once more. Life is a battle we must all win through In one wise or another, and the man Whose days approach so near a century's span Fights many a fiercer field than Waterloo. Then well for each who, at the close of day, Weary and wounded, ceasing from the fray, Haply finds some to say, as we of him, " Though he come forth white-haired, with eyesight dim, Who entered in the bloom and strength of life, Victory is his, in that, throughout the strife, He bore him bravely, and kept undefined The simple, trusting spirit of a child." IN RESPONSE TO A SERENADE. 39 IN RESPONSE TO A SERENADE. TO THE CLASS OF 77 , BELOIT COLLEGE. JAST night, when moonlight filled the air, Up through its silver shine Came, softly sweet, from friendly lips, The words of " Auld Lang Syne." Ah, friends, the sweetest songs of earth Are born of bitter tears ! lands separate, to clasp no more Through all life's changing years. Yet round these days of early youth Our brightest memories twine, And hearts are bound by loving links To days of Auld Lang Syne. This world is but a school for heaven, We all are classmates here ; 40 IN RESPONSE TO A SERENADE. What heights our lives may rise to, there, " It doth not yet appear." But, on that great Commencement Day, God grant that we may stand A class unbroken and unstained, Beside his own right hand ; And there, where partings never come, Within love's light divine, Look back with tender retrospect, And sing of Auld Lang Syne ! LIFTED UP. 41 LIFTED UP. STOOD beside my window one stormy winter day, And watched the light white snow- flakes flutter past ; And I saw, though each one wandered its silent, separate way, They all sank down upon the ground at last. " So men must lie down too," I said, " when life is past ! " From out the selfsame window, when soft spring days were come, I watched the fair white clouds that sailed the blue. Could those bright, pearly wonders, far up in heaven's high dome, Be the old wintry snow-banks that I knew ? " So men shall one day rise again," I whispered, " too ! " 42 MIDWINTER. MIDWINTER. COLD north wind sweeps over the hill, And the sharp white snow-dust whirls in the air; But deep in the heart of the woods 'tis still, The silence of slumber is reigning there. Under the brown earth, and under the snow, The little wild things are lying, asleep ; Giving no heed to the winds that blow, Caring no whit though the drifts be deep. In her round, dark burrow under the rocks, Where no cold breath can come creeping through, Cozy and warm lies the mother-fox, And her three little foxes are cozy too. MIDWINTER. 43 Down in the trunks of the old oak-trees Are huddled the squirrels, brindle and gray; The field-mouse and shrew, with their fami- lies, Under the tussocks are tucked away; And the musk-rats dwell by the frozen stream. There is store of food in each little home ; Nothing to do but drowsily dream, Through the long, dark time, till the spring shall come. Bitterly cold is the winter night, And the fierce north wind sweeps over the hill ; But high in the heavens the stars shine bright, And deep in the heart of the woods 'tis still. 44 CAPRICE. CAPRICE. SOUND of dancing footfalls strikes my ear; 'Mid sombre stems of steadfast woods I catch The glimmer of a robe all changeable With palest green that ever fades to gray, And gray that brightens into palest green. Around its hem a border, richly wrought In fresh young leaves and blades of spring- ing grass, With here and there a fair bud peeping out Of violet, or frail anemone, Or furry4iooded, shy hepatica. Above the robe, a wondrous, varying face, Whose sweet lips smile even while the radi- ant eyes Shine tender through a mist of unshed tears. Over the shoulders, in their supple grace, Warm-waving hair half hides its deepening gold Beneath a veiPs dull-tinted, envious fold, CAPRICE. 45 Whence the sly air, from stealing through it, gets A fragrance like the breath of violets. " I know you, April, with your rainbow mien ! You fooled me last year; can I trust you this ? " She puts her cool, responsive hand in mine, And breathes bright promises for days to come. The sunshine falls with kindlier, warmer glow, Bringing a hint of summer time ; I think Fond fool ! " She will not play me false again." Then, all at once, the quick eyes fill with tears, A moist wind strikes me with a sudden chill ; The clear green of her garment fades to Along the sward the sunlight shimmers pale ; She softly sighs and turns her head away, And round her draws the dull mist of her veil. 46 HOW? HOW? W do the lilies grow, Since they neither spin nor toil? They send their seeking rootlets down Through the life-supplying soil. How do the lilies grow, Since they neither toil nor spin ? They reach up with their asking leaves, And drink the sunlight in. How do the lilies grow ? As the Lord supplieth them ; Till their bloom outshines, in living glow, The kingliest diadem ! How shall God's children grow, That they may be thus arrayed? ' Consider the lilies of the field," Do as the Master bade. HOW? Delve for his hidden strength, Reach toward his living light; So shall the life within unfold, So shall its bloom be bright. 47 48 IN THE DARK. IN THE DARK. MIDNIGHT brooded weird and lone ; Nothing broke the wintry gloom, Save the drowsy monotone Of the clock, as, one by one, From its steady hands the minutes fell into my silent room. Close beside the larger bed Stood the cradle in its place: 'Mid the blankets, softly spread, Lay the baby's golden head, And his light breath, coming, going, gently fanned against my face. Something in the darkness stirred, Warmly nestling at my side Like a little sleepy bird. " Mamma ! " very low the word ; Hush and darkness made the narrow space between us seem so wide. IN THE DARK. 49 Then I murmured, as he lay, " Mamma 's close beside you, dear. Soon the night will go away, By and by it will be day, In the morning, when my baby wakens, Mamma will be here." Wandering fingers toward me crept ; " Mamma, let me hold your hand." Clasping it, he soothed and slept; Clasping his, I could have wept, Humbled by that perfect trust which needed not to understand. Years have passed me by since then ; Long the little bed has stood Empty, silent; yet, again, Thrilling deeper than my pain, Comes the tender voice to banish every bitter, doubting mood. Through the voiceless hush of death, Through life's midnight, dark and dim, Turning unto Christ, who saith 50 IN THE DARK. To each asking soul, "Have faith," Heavenward I reach my longing, groping human hands to Him. Does He take them ? Ay, He does ! All the chasm, deep and wide, Spanning by his love that flows Freely for all human woes. I shall wake in heaven's bright morning with my baby by my side. BON VIVANT. 51 BON VIVANT. |HOU jovial Bumble-bee, Summer is sweet to thee 7 To its last hour from when thou dost begin it! Thou seem'st not idle for a single minute; Never a fair flower blows but quickly thou art in it. From dandelion to rose, Naught is too mean that grows, Nor too exalted, so there 's honey in it, And thou canst win it ! The doublet on thy back, Velvety soft and black, Bespeaks thee somewhat of a dandy fellow, So daintily 'tis striped and laced with yel- low. O'er gardens bloom-replete, o'er meads where bull-frogs bellow, 52 BON VIVANT. Hover thy nimble feet, Sandaled with many a sweet. Thy genial chant sounds baritone and mel- low, June's violoncello ! Day after sunny day Thou makest work thy play, And turnest play to work with each necta- rious crumb. Gloom into thy brisk life dares never come ; Thou keep'st such easy heart, so merry is thy hum. Care and thou live apart. Would I might learn thine art Or thou wouldst halve thy cheer and give me some, Dull that I am, and dumb ! THE STARS AND THE BELL. 53 THE STARS AND THE BELL. .. ** was dark and cold at the mid- night hour, For Christmas Day was about to begin ; The old church-bell hung high in the tower, And the stars came peeping in. The old church-bell hung high in the tower, And the shining stars, above in the sky, Laughed to themselves as he clanged the hour, And winked with each golden eye. " Pray, what do you know about time ? " they cried. " We were old when your earth was young ? And you could not number us if you tried ! " But the old bell held his tongue. 54 THE STARS AND THE BELL. Then the sexton toiled up the tower-stair, And his head was bowed and gray, But he cheerily called, " Old bell, up there, Ring out ! it is Christmas Day ! " He seized the rope in each wrinkled hand, And pulled with a youthful might; And the glad sound pealed o'er the sleeping land, And soared to the stars so bright. " Ho, ho ! " laughed the scornful stars again. " What know you of Christmas-tide ? We shone on that far-off Eastern plain Where a star was the wise men's guide. "We saw the Child in his manger-bed, And the gifts that the Magi gave ; And we shall shine when your voice is fled, We shall shine on the sexton's grave!" " Glory to God ! " pealed the bell, " for aye ! Peace, peace to all human strife ! The Saviour comes with a gift to-day, And the gift is eternal life. THE STARS AND THE BELL. 55 " O shining stars ! unto you 't was given To herald the Saviour's birth ; And the praise and the glory belong to heaven, But the joy belongs to earth." 56 SAFE-FOLDED. SAFE-FOLDED. , it is hard when o'er the face We scarce can see for weeping, The little, loving baby face, That last, still shade comes creeping ; Full hard to close the tender eyes, And fold the hands for sleeping. Yet when the world our own would claim, It doth not greatly grieve us; We calmly see, as days go by, Our little children leave us, And, smiling, heed not how the swift, Soft-footed years bereave us. O mother-hearts ! I count you rich Beyond mere earth-possessing, Whose little babies never grow Away from your caressing, Safe-folded in His tender arms Who gives again, with blessing. ESTRANGED. 57 ESTRANGED. |HE sunset clouds look strangely gray to-night, The evening air blows keen, And when I turn to see your window-light, That should have made my homeward path so bright, Dark shadows fall between. A stealthy wind comes creeping from the meres, And all the branches moan. No hand in mine, as in the by-gone years. With weary heart-ache and with bitter tears I tread my way alone ! 58 AN AUTOGRAPH. AN AUTOGRAPH. CHAT'S in a name?" old Shake- speare says. " A rose By any other name would smell as sweet." And yet, perhaps it may be, friend, who knows ? That lacking names our life were less complete. For though when smiling, sunny-tempered June Is rilling all the air with scent and sound Of countless flowers, and sweet bird-choirs in tune, And Nature like some happy queen sits crowned, AN AUTOGRAPH. 59 We reck but little which bright bloom or bird Most cheers us, so the general joy be ours. Yet when without the casement naught is heard Save wintry storms, and vanished are the flowers, Let one but mention " Summer," and straightway Our warm imagination melts the snow, And earth is filled with fragrance. So, some day, When our life-paths have parted here below, Perchance this unpretending name of mine Though nothing in itself may yet bring back Years long since fled, and memories divine Like song and sunshine follow in its track. 6O EPHEMERA. EPHEMERA. ED e'er you spy The blithe May-fly Dancing, at dusk, in ecstasy? If so, You know How fast its little life goes by. Do you suppose A May-fly knows Whence he has come, or where he goes ? Not he ! But we May mark his day from dawn to close. And do you know That, even so, God's angels watch us, here below, Alway ? And they Know whence we come, and where we go. RAINBOW-GOLD. RAINBOW-GOLD. HERE were three who went to seek, Only one who found. One took his shovel and pick, And dug the ground. When he found naught for his pains, " I might have known," Quoth he, " men toil for their gains From Adam, down ! " Said the next, "The tale's but a type Of something better; Till the time and the man are ripe A mere dead letter. The glorious bow is fame, From the mind's gold grown." He laid down life for a name, And died unknown, 62 RAINBOW-GOLD. But the third looked up, through tears, Unto God. Behold! His faithfulness spanned the years, Life yielded gold. HOPE. HOPE. 5IGHT well I know that life is more than joy, For joy may die ; and yet, behold, we live ! Nor duty's sterling stuff nor grief's alloy Makes up its sum ; even although we give Our days to labor and our nights to tears. Whence cometh, then, that force superlative Which turns the wondrous wheel through weary years? Faith is the spirit's breath ; its beating brain Is love, that holds, in ever-widening scope, All that God gives to its eternal gain ; But oh, the heart, the throbbing heart, is hope ! tiis stayeth never its renewing power ; To every nerve it sendeth swift supply Instant by instant, through life's sunny hour 64 HOPE. As through its deepest midnight, equally. We cry sometimes in anguish, " Hope is dead ! " When but for her we had no voice to cry. Oh, hard to kill is she ! it is her red Returning tide that points our agony, As when revives some poor wretch, nearly drowned, To find himself in tingling tortures bound. Our joys may leave us, grief itself be gone, Faith may lie cold, and lovq have naught to give, Yet lingering life is there if hope beat on ; But when we cease to *hope, we cease to live. HOW SPRING CAME. 65 HOW SPRING CAME. T&ACT SOUTH-WIND blew and set the sriow a-melting, And bade the little brooks begin to run ; From changeful skies soft April rains came pelting, And wore away the white drifts, every one, And then out shone the golden April sun. The little brooks ran fast, with liquid laugh- ter, Through field and forest spreading the glad word. Snowdrops woke first; hepatica came after; It was not long before the violets heard; And then out sang a thankful little bird. So sweet, it set the woodland's heart a-throb- bing, And all the meadows smiled to blossoming ; 66 HOW SPRING CAME. The brooks' laugh softened to a happy sob- bing, And every little longing, living thing Crept forth to round the miracle of spring. A FIR-CONE. 67 A FIR-CONE. FOUND it nested in the snow, From deathless boughs dropped lightly down ; And, though invisible, I know That 'neath each tiny pent -house brown, Formed by its overlapping shells, The promise of a fir-tree dwells. Amid life's winter-time and snow God placed a friendship in my path, And, while I hold it fast, I know That every hour which shapes it hath, Safe-held from all earth's storms, for me The promise of eternity ! 68 A JUNE NIGHT. A JUNE NIGHT. JJUSH ! it is Nature's bed-time, The woods are falling asleep; Athwart the dusky silence I can hear their breathing deep. When wary winds, a-tiptoe, Go softly whisp'ring by The branches stir in slumber With a long-drawn, sleepy sigh. Why should my heart hold vigil When the forest is at rest ? When furled are the sweet wild-roses And the bird has sought its nest? When the Moon like some bright sentry, Patrols her heavenly way, And weary hands are folded From the burden of the day ? Ah, through the lonely forest, Deep-hidden from human sight, A JUNE NIGHT. 69 Creep creatures that shun the sunshine, To wake in the shadowy night ! The whip-poor-will stays his sorrow Till the happy thrush is dumb, And flowers that shrink from daylight Expand when the night is come. Who seeth the countless creatures That deep in the woodland be ? Who counteth the throbs of longing No human eye may see, Or recks how in silent darkness The thronging memories creep, When the day's light laughter stilleth, And the forest is asleep. 70 A COLUMBINE HORN. A COLUMBINE HORN. TINY scarlet trumpet, Would I might send a clear, Sweet note from out thy vivid throat Straight to one listening ear So clear, so sweet, His willing feet Should follow its blithe calling To where I wait, Both long and late, Though lonely night is falling. Nay, did he care for coming There were small need to wind The faintest blast ; for fain and fast, My Love his way would find ! He careth not, I am forgot, A COLUMBINE HORN. In vain my heart's dumb calling. In vain I wait So long and late, While hopeless night is falling. 72 MOUNTAIN LAUREL. MOUNTAIN LAUREL. what a matchless chisel hath been here! These sculptured buds right cun- ningly are wrought In rare material, more than Parian-clear, Perfect embodying of a perfect thought. What do these silent blossoms say to you ? To me their carven beauty seems to show How God does always what He means to do,- (Though the unfolding of his will be slow, Reckoned in measure of our fleeting days.) For think by what sure force of gracious doom Far-sundered elements, through converging ways, Have been made one in this consummate bloom ! MOUNTAIN LAUREL. 73 Blessed the word to us who understand ! Accept we life, how crude soe'er it show, Leaving its perfecting with Him whose hand Modeled the mountain laurel's buds of snow. y M195648 353 THE UNIVERSITY OF CALIFORNIA LIBRARY