LEGENDS 
 
 SONNETS 
 
 BY 
 
 FRANCES L. MACE 
 
 
 
 BOSTON 
 
 CUPPLES, UPHAM AND COMPANY 
 
 Corner Bookstore 
 
 1883 
 

 
 Copyright, by 
 CUPPLES, UPHAM AND COMPANY, 
 
 1883. 
 
 ( , I ( III 
 
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 ELECTROTYPED. 
 
 BOSTON STEREOTYPE FOUNDRY, 
 4 PEARL STREET. 
 
CONTENTS. 
 
 LEGENDS. 
 
 ISRAFIL 
 
 HESPEKUS. 
 
 A LEGEND OF THE DAWN . 
 THE BIRTH OF THE ROSE 
 BALDUR THE BEAUTIFUL . 
 THE GARDEN OF IREM . 
 ST. GREGORY'S GUEST 
 A STORM FANTASY . 
 THE TREE TUBA. 
 THE CENTURY PLANT 
 A TUSCAN LEGEND 
 THE HELIOTROPE . 
 THE FIRST AT THE FEAST 
 TEARS OF Isis . 
 VIDAR THE SILENT 
 PLYMOUTH ROCK . 
 NOROMBEGA .... 
 
 KlNEO .... 
 
 THE BOWDOIN OAK 
 
 1 
 
 15 
 
 18 
 29 
 32 
 36 
 40 
 44 
 46 
 48 
 51 
 53 
 55 
 57 
 58 
 60 
 63 
 67 
 72 
 
 M: 
 
 r 
 
IV CONTENTS. 
 
 LYRICS. 
 
 EASTER MORNING ........ 79 
 
 URANIA .......... 83 
 
 ONLY WAITING ......... 87 
 
 ARCADIA .......... 89 
 
 * 
 
 i BUDDHIST VISION ........ 
 
 GREENWOOD GREETINGS ...... 99 
 
 TEEE FIRST ROBIN ........ 103 
 
 VIOLETS .... ... 105 
 
 THE FEAST OF THE VALLEY ...... 106 
 
 PEARLS OF PRICE . . ...... 108 
 
 THE SIGNAL ......... Ill 
 
 DREAMLAND CITY ........ 113 
 
 RECOMPENSE . . . . . . . .117 
 
 SONG PHANTOMS ........ 118 
 
 UP THE RIVER ......... 121 
 
 HAIL AND FAREWELL . ..... 123 
 
 A SEASIDE PICTURE ........ 125 
 
 LOTUS-EATING ......... 129 
 
 SUNSET AT SEAL POINT COTTAGE .... 131 
 
 BLACK-CAP MOUNTAIN ....... 134: 
 
 RIVERSIDE ......... 137 
 
 To BEETHOVEN ....... .141 
 
 FROM ROME ......... 143 
 
 OBERAMMERGAU ......... 146 
 
 WHAT CHEER ? ....... 146 
 
 A VIGIL . ........ 149 
 
 INDIAN SUMMER . .... 152 
 
 CENTENNIAL HYMN ....... 154 
 
 WINTER OUR GUEST ....... 156 
 
 IMMORTELLES ......... 160 
 
 CONSOLATION , 162 
 
CONTEXTS V 
 
 S X X E T S 
 
 ORIENT TO OCCIDENT . ^ 167 
 
 OCCIDENT TO ORIENT 168 
 
 THE SEVEN DAYS 169 
 
 LONGFELLOW 175 
 
 VICTORIA 176 
 
 To THE RAINBOW .177 
 
 THE MAGIC FLUTE 178 
 
 MIDNIGHT 179 
 
 DAYBREAK .... 180 
 
 FRIENDSHIP 181 
 
 THE FLOWER PAINTER 182 
 
 EBB AND FLOW .... . . 184 
 
 HAPPINESS 185 
 
 SOUNDS FROM HOME 186 
 
 FAR AND XEAR 187 
 
 FOREST AVORSHIP 188 
 
 ISOLATION 189 
 
 ALTAR FLOWERS 190 
 
 STAR SOLITUDE 191 
 
 ST. CECILIA 192 
 
LEGENDS. 
 
' 
 
 LEGENDS. 
 
 I S R A F I L. 
 
 ISRAFIL ! 
 
 Stay thy sickle on vale and hill. 
 
 Come from the woods whose gorgeous leaves 
 
 Pale and wither beneath thy tread : 
 
 Come from binding among thy sheaves 
 
 Dearer blossoms of beauty dead, 
 
 Of grandeur and of worth 
 
 Wrested away from earth. 
 
 Bend thy sorrowful eyes on me, 
 
 Angel of death ! and while nature breathes 
 
 One hour from thy sad dominion free, 
 
 Tell me the mystery of thy woe, 
 
 The legend I only have heard in dreams. 
 
 Over my heart shall flow 
 
' < 
 
 ( , 
 
 I , ICC 
 
 , ' ' , < 
 
 ' ' . < , , , 
 
 2 LEGENDS. 
 
 In fuller measures the solemn strain, 
 Up from depths of tears and pain 
 Rising to patience, rising again 
 To a paean of triumph. 
 
 Hush ! be still ! 
 
 Whence this odor of amaranth wreaths? 
 
 Whence these faint and starlike beams 
 
 Shed from feet which make no sound ? 
 
 A touch of fire 
 
 Is on my lyre, 
 
 And its strings with a sudden, rapturous, bound 
 
 Thrill beneath the angel fingers. 
 
 O O 
 
 Thou art come thou art gone ! 
 Yet in all my being lingers 
 A breath celestial, a voiceless tone, 
 I shall not utter my song alone, 
 Israfil ! 
 
 On Paradise 
 
 A softer hue of glory lies, 
 
 The hush of evening, for the night 
 
 Comes slowly o'er young Eden's skies, 
 
 Reluctant to conceal from sight 
 
 One blossom's radiant dyes. 
 
 A thousand birds amid the shade, 
 
 To sleep their shining plumage fold, 
 
ISRAF1L. 3 
 
 A thousand flowers that cannot fade 
 Perfume afresh their leaves of o-old, 
 
 O 
 
 Far off, rising stars illume 
 
 ' O 
 
 The gentle, yet half fearful gloom 
 
 Which folds in deeper shade yon myrtle bower. 
 
 There lost in slumbers pure and deep, 
 
 Wrapt in the stillness of the hour, 
 
 Unconscious yet of tempter's power, 
 
 The first-born, guiltless mortals sleep. 
 
 Lo ! down the airy waste 
 Four shining angels haste : 
 
 O O 
 
 Their eager wings make music as they come, 
 Flashing alone: the nicfht, 
 
 O O O ' 
 
 All redolent of light, 
 
 O 7 
 
 As if the splendors of their upper home 
 Reflected still illumed their earthward flight. 
 On, swiftly on, past star by star, 
 Leaving a path of glory far 
 Behind their luminous wings, at last 
 
 O 7 
 
 The measureless expanse is past, 
 And at their feet in beauty lies 
 The new-made, earthly Paradise. 
 As when from envious shadow breaks 
 Sweet Hesperus and walks the aisles 
 Of heaven's blue temple, nature smiles 
 And added grace and beauty takes, 
 
LEGENDS. 
 
 So Eden, conscious in its dreams 
 Of a diviner atmosphere, 
 Breathes richer fragrance far and near, 
 And in the angelic presence beams. 
 
 A moment stay their steps to view 
 Scenes to angel vision new, 
 Roses burdened with the dew 
 By the tender night distilled, 
 Birds whose last good-night is trilled 
 Sleeping on the tremulous bough, 
 Fountains white in moonlight glow : 
 But a moment, for the night 
 Deepens, and without the gate 
 Evil spirits hide and wait. 
 Each bright angel seeks his post, 
 Armed, and mightier than a host 
 Of the envious, guileful band 
 That in outer darkness stand. 
 Northward, southward, westward go 
 One by one the heavenly guard, 
 Clothed about with garments white 
 That diffuse a silvery glow, 
 Bearing each a sword of li^ht 
 
 O O 
 
 With celestial jewels starred. 
 Last with lingering steps that seem 
 Loth to seek the nightly stand 
 
ISRAF1L. 
 
 On the utmost eastern hill, 
 Youngest of the angel band, 
 Lovelier than a poet's dream, 
 Comes the angel Israfil ! 
 
 Now quicker in his noiseless tread, 
 
 His silvery wings expanding spread, 
 
 Half floats he in the air with deep delight 
 
 As scenes of new enchantment meet his sight. 
 
 His eyes of liquid azure, touched with fire, 
 
 More beautiful than can be sung or told, 
 
 Shine 'neath the aureole of his locks of gold, 
 
 With a soft restlessness, a fond desire. 
 
 Adoring beauty with a love 
 
 Too passionate for one of angel birth, 
 
 Even at this hour he pants to rove 
 
 Amid the green bowers of the fragrant earth ; 
 
 To hear once more the nightingale's refrain, 
 
 To touch the humid, sleeping rose again, 
 
 But most of all to see 
 
 The latest miracle of Deity, 
 
 The revelation, unto angels new, 
 
 Of loveliness they scarcely yet conceive 
 
 As real, substantial, true, 
 
 The first of human womanhood, 
 
 The breathing form, the spirit pure and good, 
 
 The garden's royal flower, the new created Eve. 
 
6 LEGENDS. 
 
 O Israfil ! 
 
 Bid thy impulsive soul be still, 
 
 Until the morning wait ! 
 
 o 
 
 Leave not the haunted o;ate 
 
 o 
 
 Where even now, by evil sense aware 
 
 Of thy untried and hasty mood, 
 
 The serpent King with envious hate 
 
 Whispers, to tempt thy angelhood, 
 
 Of her the wonderfully fair, 
 
 Whom but to look upon would be 
 
 A rapture and an ecstasy. 
 
 O Israfil, 
 
 Keep well thy watch upon the starlit hill, 
 
 Until the morning wait ! 
 
 O 
 
 Then when the summons from on hicfh 
 
 O 
 
 Recalls thy comrades to the sky, 
 
 She shall come forth, and with sweet converse 
 
 greet 
 
 The parting and the coming angel host. 
 Stay thy impetuous feet ; 
 One moment now absented from thy post, 
 And all is lost. 
 The serpent watches well : thou shalt return too 
 
 late ! 
 
 An hour is past, 
 
 All Eden sleeps in motionless repose. 
 
ISRAF1L. 7 
 
 Around, above, he casts his restless eyes 
 
 And sighs to think how long the night will last. 
 
 The moon rides slowly, slowlv down the skies. 
 
 . 7 *- 
 
 Surely far off have vanished Eden's foes. 
 No evil spirit can be lurking near, 
 No sound, no breath meets his attentive ear. 
 So long the night, so deep the silence grows, 
 May he not wander at his wayward will 
 If not too distant from the sentinel hill? 
 Only a few light steps will bring him near 
 The bower of which the angels oft have told. 
 There in the moonlight clear 
 
 O 
 
 A moment tarrying, he may behold, 
 
 And seeing may believe 
 
 That only he has learned how beautiful is Eve. 
 
 As now with wilful steps he seeks 
 The bower where she is slumbering, 
 The dew brushed by his rapid wing 
 From hanging boughs, falls on his cheeks. 
 His feet are trampling in their haste 
 The straying rose, a wildwood vine 
 Whose flowers the mossy pathway graced. 
 He starts, when in the bright moonshine 
 A bird, awakened, trills a note, 
 Then sleeps, the song still rippling from his 
 throat. 
 
8 LEGENDS. 
 
 But soon he trembles, listens, doubts no more : 
 All else forgotten he is bending o'er 
 
 CD O 
 
 The violet bed, amid whose blest perfume 
 Earth's fairest being sleeps, unconscious of her 
 
 * 
 
 doom. 
 
 She sleeps she dreams 
 For now a smile hovers with tender grace 
 About her lips. The beauty of her face 
 A breathing wonder to the ansjel seems. 
 
 O O 
 
 Her dark eyelashes rest 
 
 Motionless on the warm flush of her cheek, 
 
 Her lips part softly, as if she would speak 
 
 But had in dreamland lost the word she fain 
 
 would seek! 
 
 One hand is lightly clasped about a rose 
 Which fully open blows, 
 Too blest to share its sister flowers' repose. 
 And veiling her white breast 
 Falls wave on wave of lustrous golden hair. 
 
 ^j 
 
 Like one enchanted in the moonlight glow, 
 The ans;el lingers still and murmurs low, 
 
 O O 7 
 
 " Daughter of earth, how fair ! ' 
 
 Israfil ! Israfil ! 
 
 The cry rings through the startled night. 
 
 The angels speed in sudden fright 
 
1SRAFIL. 9 
 
 Toward the unprotected gate. 
 On wings of fear flies Israfil 
 Alas ! he flies too late. 
 His brother angels flashing by 
 Already with pure sense perceive 
 An evil lurking nio;h. 
 
 o o 
 
 A change comes o'er the moonlit sky : 
 The wind begins to sigh and grieve ; 
 The garden feels a sudden chill, 
 The breath of coming fate. 
 " Where hast thou strayed, O Israfil ? 
 The serpent's taint is on the air. 
 The son of darkness, once as fair 
 And frail as thou, is come ! " 
 He hides his face in his despair 
 And stands before them, dumb. 
 
 All night the angels to and fro 
 Seek for the messenger of woe. 
 
 O 
 
 He, subtle, silent, still eludes 
 Their search. In densest solitudes 
 Evades the lustre that is shed 
 From their celestial tread. 
 At morn, recalled, they seek the skies, 
 But Israfil with drooping wings 
 No longer heavenward can arise, 
 To earth unwilling clings. 
 
 o o 
 
10 LEGENDS. 
 
 Through all that fateful day, hour after hour, 
 
 With deepest sorrow thrilled, 
 
 He stands invisible, apart, 
 
 Sees evil warring with the human heart, 
 
 And Eden's doom fulfilled. 
 
 When in the evening cool the Lord appears, 
 
 Sees the forbidden tree with broken bloom, 
 
 The garden desolate and lost in gloom, 
 
 The mortals hiding from his searching gaze, 
 
 Israfil, speechless, hears 
 
 Their fate pronounced, sees their repentant 
 
 tears 
 And death's dread shadow hanging o'er their 
 
 days. 
 
 And now on him the rays 
 Of the Eternal Vision fall, the word 
 Of his own doom is heard. 
 "Since death by thee is come unto the earth, 
 Be thou its messenger. Thy name shall be 
 A terror unto all of human birth ; 
 The shadow of the grave forever follow thee." 
 
 In Eden it was early dawn. 
 
 How changed since in the even-time 
 
 The angel saw it in its prime. 
 
 The erring mortals now were gone : 
 
 He stood within their empty bower alone. 
 
ISRAFIL. 11 
 
 Above his head 
 
 A little bird was warbling cheerily. 
 
 The music mocked his speechless misery. 
 
 He raised his hand, unconscious of his power, 
 
 And grasped the bough which held the dainty nest, 
 
 And the branch shrivelled in his hand ; with 
 
 breast 
 
 Panting in sudden pain, the bird fell dead. 
 Aghast, he seized a flower, 
 The rose which Eve's fair hand at night had 
 
 pressed ; 
 
 Beneath his touch it withered ; bud and leaf 
 Dropped dry and scentless. In a bitter grief 
 He murmured "This is death ! 
 And this henceforth shall be mv destiny, 
 
 * * * 
 
 To slay but not to die. 
 
 To blight all things of mortal breath, 
 
 ^-> d? / 
 
 All earthly loveliness to sere, 
 All that yon beings hold most dear 
 Must perish when my steps draw near. 
 Nor can I shun my fearful power, 
 Or spare from them one dreaded hour. 
 Onward I go through all the years, 
 Unheeding human prayers and tears. 
 Let mortals seek through toil and fears 
 Some transient gleams of love and joy, 
 I follow after to destroy." 
 
12 LEGENDS. 
 
 "Israfil!" 
 
 The anel looked and bowed his face 
 
 o 
 
 Before a brow whose sweet, majestic grace 
 Had shone upon him oft in happier morn, 
 From the Eternal hill 
 Whose dazzling height reveals the Father'? 
 
 throne. 
 
 Immanuel the First Born 
 Stood smiling on him in the early dawn. 
 Israfil, behold ! " 
 
 The Son takes in his hand the withered rose, 
 Its petals seem like magic to unfold. 
 A new, celestial bloom, 
 A heavenly perfume 
 Through the awakened blossom breathes and 
 
 glows. 
 
 The Savior smiling lays it on His breast. 
 He takes the dead bird from its broken nest, 
 It flutters, plumes its wings, 
 Then rapturously sings 
 
 And soars away toward the beaming Heaven. 
 Then spake He " Israfil, 
 The Father to the Son a boon hath given. 
 Go forth, but I am with thee. Do His will 
 Who laid this doom upon thee, and be still. 
 Thou dost destroy, but thus can I restore. 
 Angel of death arise, and hope once more ! 
 
ISEAFIL. 13 
 
 From Abel's blood spilt on the altar stone 
 To Calvary's cross which I must bear alone, 
 Thou shalt be terrible to human kind 
 And hope but dimly light the troubled mind. 
 But from that grave which yields to me its 
 
 portal, 
 
 Faith shall come forth, the Comforter immortal, 
 And thou, new-crowned, shalt be 
 Seen by believing eyes linked hand in hand with 
 
 Me!" 
 
 Thus spake Iramanuel, and ascending passed 
 Again unto His Father's house, to keep 
 Unbroken watch while time and sorrow last, 
 Of His beloved who in death shall sleep. 
 And Israfil arose, serene and calm, 
 And with one last look upon Eden's bower, 
 Went forth into the morning's fragrant balm, 
 
 o o * 
 
 To wield forevermore his melancholy power. 
 
 Israfil ! 
 
 Let thy sickle return to the harvest that gleams 
 
 White and wan on valley and hill, 
 
 For my lyre is still. 
 
 The sons: that I heard in the land of dreams 
 
 O 
 
 Is sung, and its magic shall haunt me no more. 
 Ever yet to the unseen shore 
 
14 LEGENDS. 
 
 Bear earth's harvest, the loved and lost. 
 Often thy shadow my door has crossed. 
 I have seen thy icy fingers laid 
 On lips that I loved and was not afraid. 
 Following close on thy chill and gloom, 
 Reaching up from the darkened tomb 
 Was the very odor of heavenly bloom 
 Shed from His garments who followed thee, 
 And took my idols to keep for me. 
 
 Israfil ! 
 
 Come again at the Master's will. 
 
 At thy cross and pang my flesh may shrink, 
 
 But thy bitter cup I will dare to drink, 
 
 And follow thee down to the river's brink. 
 
 Through the breathless tide 
 
 ~ 
 
 I will clino; to the hand of the Crucified. 
 
 O 
 
 And when I awake on the further shore 
 
 I shall see thee no more 
 
 Sad and shrouded in garments dim, 
 
 But the angel of peace, and brother of Him 
 
 Who crowned thee and blessed thee on Cal- 
 
 ' vary's Hill, 
 Israfil ! 
 
HESPERUS. 
 
 AWAKE, O beautiful Hesperus ! 
 
 Awake ! for the day is done, 
 And the royal purple curtains are drawn 
 
 Round the couch of the sleeping sun. 
 There is a hush on the blooming earth, 
 
 A hush on the beating sea, 
 And silence, too, in the courts of Heaven, 
 
 For the stars all wait for thee, 
 
 Hesperus ! 
 All things beautiful wait for thee. 
 
 Tis the hour for fancy's fairy reign, 
 
 When the glowing brain is fraught 
 With visions of beauty and bliss and love 
 
 That leave no room for thought. 
 With the light of warm and glorious dreams 
 
 This narrow chamber is bright, 
 And I need but thee to sing with me, 
 
 O sweetest poet of night ! 
 
 Hesperus, 
 Open thy volume of golden light. 
 
 15 
 
16 LEGENDS. 
 
 There may I read of the youth of old 
 Who clambered the mountain height, 
 
 O ' 
 
 And talked with stars in the midnight hours 
 
 O 
 
 Till he faded from human sight. 
 
 CD 
 
 Till his brow grew bright with wonderful light, 
 And away from the world's rude jars, 
 
 He was lost in the beams of his radiant dreams 
 And himself was the fairest of stars. 
 Hesperus ! 
 
 The best beloved of all the stars ! 
 
 There may I read this legend rare 
 
 And its beautiful meaning learn, 
 While my soul new kindled to hopes divine 
 
 With a holy fire shall burn. 
 O never should human heart despair 
 
 Of the presence of God on high, 
 
 never should human faith grow dim, 
 While the stars are in the sky ! 
 
 Hesperus, 
 Thy voice is the voice of eternity. 
 
 Thou art smiling down on me, Hesperus ! 
 With that smile upon my heart 
 
 1 know that kindred to me and mine 
 
 In those measureless heights thou art. 
 
HESPERUS. 17 
 
 When thy spirit blossomed into a star 
 
 In the mystical days of old, 
 The love and the hope it bore on high, 
 
 The legend hath never told. 
 
 Hesperus, 
 Thy sweetest story hath never been told. 
 
 O to be like thee, Hesperus ! 
 To climb the heights of truth, 
 
 O * 
 
 And there to drink of celestial airs, 
 
 To glow with immortal youth ; 
 There wrapt in the light which is born in skies 
 
 Where the blessed angels are, 
 To hear earth's harmonies only rise, 
 
 Floating sweetly up from afar. 
 
 Hesperus ! 
 How can my spirit be made a star ? 
 
A LEGEND OF THE DAWN. 
 
 FROM a bed of velvet the Tourmaline 
 Its crystal splendors of red and green, 
 Toned and mellowed by milk-white bars, 
 Flashed in the sunset. The prisoned rays 
 Glittering, shimmering under my gaze, 
 Now soft as the rainbow's melting haze, 
 
 ^j / 
 
 Now fierce and fine as the light of stars, 
 
 Held me, thrilled me with magic glance! 
 
 All the fairest and wildest flights 
 
 Of fancy, winged in Arabian Nights, 
 
 Circling slow in bewildering dance 
 
 Seemed to float o'er the jewel rare. 
 
 Till half afraid, lest a look profane 
 
 The spell-bound spirit imprisoned there, 
 
 I turned away, but all in vain 
 
 The mystery breathed from the page again. 
 
 For there I read of pure and priceless ores 
 Stored as by some malignant, fateful plan, 
 In desert isles, on solitary shores, 
 Beyond the reach and far from haunts of man. 
 
 18 
 
A LEGEND OF THE DAWN. 19 
 
 Of wrath of winds and waters, storm and fire 
 To baffle and to thwart the world's desire 
 For precious stones; and though with new 
 
 delight 
 
 Age after age some treasure brings to sight, 
 Brilliants unnumbered sleep in endless night. 
 In secret still the jealous elements nurse 
 The crystal blossoms of the universe. 
 
 I closed the book. I lifted from its bed 
 Of tawny velvet the enchanted stone. 
 Again its fiery glance upon me shone, 
 All sense of present, actual being fled. 
 Backward, far backward in the dawn of time 
 Floated my vision; in creation's prime, 
 When Genii roamed in daring strength abroad, 
 But living souls were hidden still with God. 
 
 Can this be morning, this light which breaks 
 In utter silence o'er land and sea ? 
 No bower in the forest, no tent on the lea, 
 No sail on the rivers, no oar on the lakes, 
 Nor voice, nor motion of grief or glee ? 
 Even the sunlight, a languid ray, 
 Lingers and dreams at the door of day. 
 But hark ! what tone, what elfin strain 
 Wakens the landscape to life again ? 
 
20 LEGENDS. 
 
 " Come Genii of the deep ! 
 Come, giant forms of the earth and sky ! 
 Ye who toil without rest or sleep, 
 Whose lips never smile and whose eyes never 
 
 weep, 
 
 But whose hands are mighty to gather and reap 
 The beautiful harvest of diadems. 
 Come, for the end of your toil is nigh. 
 The days primeval are told ; 
 The veins of the earth are full of old ; 
 
 O ? 
 
 The ocean's sparkling floor 
 Lights up the waters with glittering ore, 
 Over vast spaces like shadows creep, 
 And come to the island of gems." 
 
 A voice like music wafted from afar, 
 
 Faint and aerial and unreal as are 
 
 The utterances of all the soulless things 
 
 Which of mysterious birth 
 
 Move to and fro upon the living earth, 
 
 Sent forth this wild and melancholy call. 
 
 It floated out upon the winds, and all 
 
 The breezy spirits spread their fragrant wings 
 
 And bore it up and down the sea and land. 
 
 It pierced the depths, and drowsy ocean stirred 
 
 And sounded it again, till it was heard 
 
 In deepest cave, on farthest icy strand. 
 
A LEGEND OF THE DAWN. 21 
 
 Then to the island of flame 
 Luminous far over tropic seas, 
 Summoned by heralds of billow and breeze, 
 Unnumbered Genii came. 
 Gem of the ocean the island lay, 
 Veiled with a mist of rainbow spray ; 
 Nor leaf, nor verdure adorned the side 
 Of the sloping cliffs, but far and wide 
 Crystal masses of white and green, 
 Beds of amethyst, paths of spar 
 Spangled with diamonds brighter far 
 Than noonday's radiant sunbeams are ; 
 Terrace of rubies, like scarlet flowers, 
 Sapphire violets, emerald bowers, 
 Crimson and olive tourmaline, 
 With banks of topaz whose azure gleams 
 Were blent with pearl wreaths of silver sheen. 
 Hither swiftly and silently came 
 Spirits of billow and vapor and flame, 
 Subject all to the beautiful queen 
 Eola of golden beams ! 
 
 She solitary on her brilliant throne, 
 A seat of gold with vivid gems inwrought 
 Beheld them as they gathered one by one. 
 Each to her feet some sparkling jewel brought, 
 Which with new lustre in her presence shone. 
 
22 LEGENDS. 
 
 Giants were they in form, and dark and grave, 
 Their features neither hope nor sorrow wore ; 
 In time's first hours to them the Maker gave 
 Such endless life as earthly elements have, 
 With strength and will to work the precious ore. 
 Arrayed before the sovereign, as in turn 
 Her shining glance on each one chanced to burn, 
 The shadow brings, dusky, dark and stern 
 Gave forth prismatic lights of various hue, 
 Till like their own rich handiwork they grew. 
 
 " Ye to whom power is given 
 Over the secrets of land and sea, 
 Mingling the life-giving beams of heaven 
 With the dark vapors, the deathly mould 
 That earth's abysses and caverns hold, 
 Into the night of memory reach ! 
 Borrow of winds and waters speech, 
 
 And tell once more 
 The work ye have wrought with the shining ore." 
 
 Then one who spake for many, bowed him low 
 Before her throne. " Eola ! thou dost know 
 We were of Chaos and of Darkness born. 
 Without thee we were helpless, blind and weak. 
 But when the first Day grew to glowing morn. 
 Daughter of Light ! thv glance had power to speak 
 
 ~ */ ~ 
 
A LEGEND OF THE DAWN. 23 
 
 Our torpor into life. By thee sent forth, 
 Armed with thy beams, we wandered south and 
 
 north 
 
 And to remotest wilds of east and west, 
 The purest treasure of the earth our quest. 
 Where'er thy spear on desert rock or land 
 Revealed a grain of unpolluted sand, 
 Lustrous and clear, we bore it to the strand 
 Of mighty ocean, and the salt sea wave 
 Planted in priceless beds the seed we gave. 
 Flames wrought beneath the ocean, central fires 
 
 O 
 
 Upturned the depths, and laid on every shore 
 Perfected miracles of precious ore. 
 Now we rejoice in thy fulfilled desires." 
 
 Then hastilv bending down, 
 
 v <37 ' 
 
 One laid at her feet a crown 
 From whose central jewel seemed to unfurl 
 Petals of opal with frosts of pearl, 
 And sprays like dew-drops on yellow sheaves. 
 " The light of thy love, O queen ! 
 We have wrought into brilliants of purple and 
 
 green, 
 
 Into blossoms that never shall lose their sheen, 
 Nor their glowing, beautiful dyes. 
 Each glance of thy sunny eyes 
 Some happy spirit delighted weaves 
 
24 LEGENDS. 
 
 Into deathless beauty. Let thy command 
 Speed on our labors. From every land 
 Let us bring the spoil, till the final day 
 The reign of the human shall end our sway."- 
 
 As some fair tree white with perfected bloom 
 Waves slowly to and fro, and slowly fall 
 The snowflake petals, till the verdure all 
 Is strewn with drifts of prodigal perfume, 
 So now Eola, sun-born spirit, shook 
 Her waving tresses with a mournful smile, 
 And falling beams illumined all the isle. 
 " That day has come, O genii ! ye may look 
 Even now upon the new created one 
 For whom all days their wonder work have done. 
 My spirits, do ye not remember well 
 When from the vast, blue dome above, there fell 
 A Voice which shook the firmament, and ye 
 Heard the Invisible utter His decree 
 " Let us make man ! ' the angels heard and sung 
 Paeans with which the whirling planets rung, 
 But in the deepest shade 
 Ye hid yourselves, sore troubled and afraid. 
 O Genii ! know that unto the last day 
 Of the creation only, we have sway. 
 The world is ripe for man; we phantoms must 
 away ! " 
 
A LEGEND OF THE DAWN. l 
 
 Then sounds and sighings of woe 
 
 Through all the island were heard, 
 
 And the waves of the listening ocean stirred 
 
 And beat on the fringing coral reef 
 
 With a sullen, angry flow, 
 
 And an undertone of grief. 
 
 "Ah! we remember, queen! 
 
 We too have the omens seen 
 
 Of creation's ultimate change. 
 
 It was not for us that the waters rolled 
 
 And left the isles and continents free. 
 
 It was not for us that verdure and tree, 
 
 Foliage gorgeous and manifold. 
 
 With flowers like jewels of red and gold, 
 
 Robed the valleys and wreathed the hills ; 
 
 Not ours the shadow of oak and palm, 
 
 And fruits that ripen with breath of balm ; 
 
 Not ours the music the wild bird trills 
 
 Nor the strength of the forest. 
 
 But say, O queen, 
 What later signal thine eyes have seen." 
 
 Slowly she spoke the shining lustre shed 
 In fainter sparkles from her beaming head. 
 "I saw, O children of the fire and flood, 
 A garden which your feet have never trod. 
 
26 LEGENDS. 
 
 Vast, beautiful and rich with foliage rare, 
 Earth has no vale so spacious nor so fair. 
 And in the midst one walked, of lesser height 
 Than we, but firm, compact, and fair to sight. 
 He spoke his voice rang out distinct and clear; 
 The beasts with mild obedience drew near, 
 And the birds hushed their delicate notes to 
 
 hear. 
 
 I glided closer and by him unseen 
 Watched his superior step, his fearless mien, 
 Until with brow uplifted to the sky 
 He said aloud ' Our Father ! ' from on hisrh 
 
 O 
 
 The Voice that called the days to life replied, 
 And I fled trembling from the garden's side. 
 Alas ! in fearful haste I dropped a gem, 
 The brighest star from out my diadem, 
 Low at his feet it lies, 
 Mocked by the fairer bloom of Paradise. 
 
 " But not for the new born race 
 Are the treasures that ve have won 
 
 / 
 
 My children of fire and sun ! 
 
 Still in some secret space, 
 
 Some hidden grotto of earth or cave, 
 
 In mountain granite or black sea wave 
 
 We will find a resting-place. 
 
 O 1 
 
A LEGEND OF THE DAWN. 27 
 
 To your utmost depths ye sons of fire ! 
 Ye foam-tressed waves roll wilder, higher, 
 Snow spirits, winds, your plumes outspread, 
 Daughters of sunlight o'er wide earth flee 
 And wherever a mortal foot may tread, 
 Gather in haste and bring to me. 
 We will bury our jewels in mountain and main, 
 And the mighty, hereafter, shall seek them in 
 
 vain." 
 
 Silent and swift the genii now began 
 To hide the riches they had wrought, from man. 
 Into great rifts of mountain rock they poured 
 The gold a thousand centuries had stored, 
 With gleaming sands the river beds were sown. 
 
 O O 
 
 Masses of crystal, violet, rose, and white, 
 Tinting the waters far with colored light, 
 Into the secret ocean depths were thrown. 
 Hard was their toil, nor did Eola shun 
 To give them aid, though daughter of the sun. 
 
 O * O O 
 
 At sunset all was ended. Gathered there 
 Upon the island desolate and bare, 
 Dim, wavering forms already fain to flee 
 
 O tf 
 
 The presence of unknown humanity, 
 
 They looked upon their queen. She took her 
 
 crown, 
 Of its lost gem despoiled, and cast it down 
 
28 LEGENDS. 
 
 Into the waters. From her shoulders fell 
 
 The mantle of the sunbeams. "Now, farewell, 
 
 Sweet light of day ! " she uttered " We will 
 
 keep 
 
 Eternal watch within the unsounded deep. 
 Woe to the hand that for the prize may dare 
 In toil and pain to search. The rock shall be 
 Of adamantine strength : the trusty sea 
 Unwilling yield one golden grain, and care 
 And ill unmeasured be the victor's share." 
 
 Fading, fading away, 
 
 Lost in the dying day, 
 
 The Genii vanished from sea and shore. 
 
 Loudly lamented the winds ; the sun 
 
 Sunk among vapors ashy and dun, 
 
 The rain-clouds sobbed as the niMit bejmn. 
 
 O O ' 
 
 The island trembled and quaked with woe. 
 There were sounds of feet going to and fro 
 On the ocean's echoing floor, 
 But moaning tempest, nor midnight rain, 
 Nor morning sunlight could call a^ain 
 
 O O *-- 
 
 The Genii forth. With charm and sign 
 
 They had touched each gem of their boundless 
 
 store, 
 
 The door was sealed of each golden mine, 
 The pathway darkened forevermore. 
 
THE BIRTH OF THE ROSE. 
 
 LONG ago a lovely wood nymph, 
 
 Flora's fairest child, 
 Roamed Arcadia's velvet meadows, 
 
 Silent, shy, and wild, 
 
 Until Death, enamored, met her 
 
 In her beauty's glow, 
 Touched her with his lip of marble, 
 
 Kissed her cheek to snow. 
 
 Flora found her 'mid the blossoms 
 
 Beautiful and still. 
 " Help ! ' she cried, " ye happy dwellers 
 
 On the purple hill ! 
 
 " Wrest from Death the fairest being 
 
 o 
 
 Ever missed from earth ; 
 Let the flower of nymphs inherit 
 A celestial birth." 
 
 See the shining ones descending ! 
 
 <~> o 
 
 All Arcadia gleams. 
 
 29 
 
30 LEGENDS. 
 
 First Apollo warms her forehead 
 With electric beams : 
 
 Bacchus bathes her lips with nectar 
 
 Worthy of the god : 
 Her w r hite feet Vertumnus covers 
 
 With a fragrant sod. 
 
 Lo ! the radiant transformation ! 
 
 One by one unclose 
 Tendrils, leaves, and snowy petals 
 
 Of the perfect Rose ! 
 
 All the nymph's remembered graces 
 
 Hover round the flower, 
 Sweetness, tenderness, and passion 
 
 Still her beauty's dower. 
 
 Soon the praise of the Immortals 
 
 To a richer flush 
 Warms the rose her colors brighten 
 
 To Aurora's blush ; 
 
 Then the nightingale in rapture 
 
 Warbles sweet and long 
 Till a hue of love's vermilion 
 
 Answers to his song. 
 
THE BIRTH OF THE HOSE. 31 
 
 " Bloom forever nymph enchanted ! ' 
 
 The Olympians cry 
 " Kindred both to earth and heaven, 
 
 Thou shalt never die ! r 
 
 Down through centuries of blossom, 
 
 <3 t 
 
 Ages of delight, 
 Still the royal rose of summer 
 Opens on our sight. 
 
 And the half-bewildered fancy 
 
 Through the fragrant bowers 
 Searches for the haunting mystery 
 
 Of this flower of flowers. 
 
 'T is the nymph so deftly hidden 
 
 In a leafy shrine, 
 In her golden heart still throbbing 
 
 Memories divine. 
 
 Ever silent, ever seeing, 
 
 Every heart she knows, 
 All thy love, thy hope, thy longing 
 
 Whisper to the Rose ! 
 
BALDUR THE BEAUTIFUL. 
 
 IN the far north, when the midsummer night 
 Is but the sunset wedded to the light 
 Of a new morning, upon cliff and hill 
 Burns the bale-fire to Baldur : as its flame 
 Salutes the sleepless sun, the Norsemen still 
 
 Utter that sacred name, 
 And year by year the wonder-myth is told 
 Of Baldur, joy of men and gods in days of old ! 
 
 On royal Asgard's height 
 No god like Baldur beamed upon the sight. 
 Others were mighty, he was pure as light. 
 Pleasant his voice as rivulets, his eyes 
 Sun bright and radiant as midsummer skies, 
 And his long yellow locks gave forth perfumes 
 When the wind-giant shook with glee his eagle 
 plumes. 
 
 All living things adored him. Singing birds 
 Their joyance caught from listening to his 
 words, 
 
 32 
 
BALDUR THE BEAUTIFUL. 33 
 
 Flames, floods, winds, lightnings, in accordant 
 
 breath 
 Vowed that to him should come no stroke of 
 
 death. 
 The ores and rocks, the mosses, vines, and trees, 
 
 The strong, tumultuous seas 
 Gave glad response, and it was sung and said 
 By all the beams above, the shades below, 
 The snow-white feet of Baldur ne'er should 
 tread 
 
 The path of wail and woe 
 Down to the ice-walled dwelling of the dead. 
 One thing alone was dumb, the creeping 
 mistletoe ! 
 
 Thus in no fear of death, the gods at play 
 Made him their target, Avhile the midnight sun 
 Smiled o'er the wide, pale moors with mellow 
 
 ray, 
 
 Half evening and half day, 
 And Baldur lightly caught and tossed away 
 Sword, lance, or arrow, till with victories won 
 His brow grew dazzling, and the farthest fields 
 Of Ass-ard were illumined, and the shields 
 
 O ' 
 
 Upon Valhalla with his image shone. 
 
 Then stepped the blind old god 
 Hoder upon the arrow-sprinkled sod ; 
 
34 LEGENDS. 
 
 He too would share the merriment. Ah! woe! 
 To Baldur's heart sped straight the fated 
 mistletoe ! 
 
 Beautiful as a marble god he lay, 
 
 When life had ebbed away, 
 Or like a rose tree in its prime cut down 
 
 With all its flowery crown. 
 Time never knew a more despairing cry 
 
 Than smote the startled sky. 
 It reached the utmost depths of death and 
 
 night, 
 And Hela, goddess terrible to sight, 
 
 Trembled upon her throne, 
 And gazed on the white ghost she dared not call 
 
 her own. 
 
 But swift a messenger had followed him, 
 
 And at the portals grim 
 Knocked loud. " What ransom, Hela, shall 
 
 be given 
 
 By heroes of the earth and gods of Heaven, 
 To win beloved Baldur back to life ? 
 Already discord mutters sounds of strife 
 And clouds of vengeance gather. Speak and 
 
 take 
 The wealth of land and ocean for his sake ! r 
 
BALDUR THE BEAUTIFUL. 35 
 
 And as Valhalla's message borne above 
 The mists of Nifflehem, on wings of love, 
 Readied Hela's seat, with sudden pity moved, 
 She spoke "If Baldur was so greatly loved, 
 Bid all the world to weep ; the heart-wrung 
 
 moan 
 Of every living thing may melt Death's heart 
 
 of stone." 
 
 The wide world heard and with a rain of tears 
 Gave answer, but in all the countless years 
 Baldur returns not, and no later skies 
 Have smiled upon his vanished Paradise. 
 Though the soft falling dews bring new-born 
 
 o o o 
 
 day 
 
 "With fresh, alluring ray, 
 The winter frosts dissolve in penitent grief 
 
 And open bud and leaf, 
 Baldur the Beautiful takes not his place 
 Fairest of human as of godlike race, 
 Earth has not tears enough to bring again 
 
 O O O 
 
 Lost innocence, pure peace, Heaven's primal 
 
THE GARDEN OF IREM. 
 
 WHEEE burns beneath Arabia's dazzling sky 
 The desert waste of Aden, leafless, bare, 
 A stately garden on the Elysian air 
 
 Its beauty shed, entrancing every eye. 
 An oasis of green, 
 
 Brilliant with flowers and silvery waters' sheen. 
 
 The fig and olive yielded fragrant shade, 
 
 The vine with royal purple decked the wall ; 
 Sweet was the music of the fountain's fall, 
 
 Whose dancing drops among the roses played, 
 And all the balmy night 
 
 The bulbul trilled his tremulous 
 
 A palace in the midst arose, whose towers 
 The sunshine mocked with gilded opulence, 
 Its inner court reflected rays intense, 
 Inlaid with gems that sparkled 'mid the flowers. 
 
 Through glistening wires of gold, 
 Birds rainbow-hued their plaintive numbers told. 
 
 36 
 
THE GARDEN OF IREM. 37 
 
 The doors were ever open, and the sound 
 Of ceaseless mirth made day most musical, 
 Never was heard the trumpet's warning call, 
 
 For feast and pageant led the year around. 
 Till Irem's happy name 
 
 The symbol of terrestrial bliss became. 
 
 Then suddenly while yet the warbling lute 
 Vibrated to the dancer's jewelled feet, 
 The Simoom of the desert, fierce and fleet, 
 
 Swept by, and Irem was forever mute ! 
 A blinding sea of sand 
 
 Hid the delight of all the mourning land. 
 
 O O 
 
 Long ages passed ; and men had ceased to heed 
 The story, till Colabah sought one day 
 A camel which had wandered far away 
 
 Beyond Al Ahkaf's dreary plain to feed ; 
 And as the hour grew late 
 
 He found himself within a palace gate. 
 
 High, gilded towers within a garden rare, 
 
 A blooming waste from whence all life had flown, 
 For vacant windows in the sunlight shone 
 
 And fruit, unpluck'd, with sweets oppress'd the air. 
 'Mid creamy blossoms hung 
 
 Cages of twisted gold that empty swung. 
 
38 LEGENDS. 
 
 A moment with strange rapture he perceived 
 The blaze of beauty, then the deathly calm 
 Smote him with sudden sense of nameless 
 
 harm. 
 Backward he turned ; yet fain to be believed, 
 
 He grasped with hasty hand 
 A few, bright pebbles from the sparkling sand. 
 
 Then swiftly fleeing, to his comrades bore 
 The tale of Irem's splendor lost and found ; 
 Nor could they scoff, when, from his robe 
 
 unbound, 
 He showed his treasure of mysterious ore. 
 
 For lo ! the sunset kissed 
 Rare stones of topaz, agate, amethyst ! 
 
 Vainly at morning's break they searched the 
 
 plain 
 
 For its hid treasure. The unanswering sands 
 Kept well the secret of their Genii's hands, 
 ISTor yielded Irem to the world again. 
 
 But with serenest flame 
 Still glowed the gems and told Colabah's fame. 
 
 Ah ! thus the Bard whom inspiration leads 
 Into the realm of visionary thought. 
 In hidden paths, by bowers divinely wrought, 
 
THE GARDEN OF I HEM. 39 
 
 Upon enchanted fruits his fancy feeds. 
 
 Till suddenly he spies 
 Unreal splendors deck his Paradise, 
 
 Then fleeing, half in rapture, half in fright, 
 He seeks the world of daily life once more : 
 
 / 
 
 The charm is lost, the bloom, the brilliance 
 
 o'er. 
 
 Yet happy if he gathered in his flight, 
 To shine through many days, 
 One priceless gem of beauty, love or praise. 
 
ST. GREGORY'S GUEST. 
 
 AT St. Andrew's Convent gate 
 Gregory, monk of pious fame, 
 
 Day by day at vesper bell 
 
 Heard a beggar call his name. 
 
 oo" 
 
 And from prayer or chanted hymn 
 By unwearied patience led, 
 
 Still w T ith helpful word and gift 
 He the stranger comforted. 
 
 All he gave : the relic last, 
 Dearest of his meagre store, 
 
 Not till then he pitying plead 
 " Importune me, friend, no more ! ' 
 
 Years passed on ; the lowly monk 
 Sat upon the pontiff's throne, 
 
 The tiara, with the heart 
 
 Of all Rome, was now his own. 
 
 Yet in high as low estate 
 
 Gave he richly from his store, 
 
 40 
 
ST. GREGORY'S GUEST. 41 
 
 Twelve poor men each eventide 
 Supped within his palace door. 
 
 And as once he sat with them, 
 Earnest each one's need to know, 
 
 He perceived a stranger guest 
 All the others placed below. 
 
 To his steward beckoned he 
 " One unbidden friend is here 
 
 Go, salute him ! bid him take 
 Freely of our evening cheer." 
 
 Down the room the servant passed ; 
 
 " Only twelve are here to night." 
 " Count again ! behold he sits 
 
 d? 
 
 Where the sunshine lingers bright ; 
 
 O O * 
 
 " See his yellow, flowing hair 
 Blending with the sunset flame ! 
 
 Pale his brow, serene his gaze 
 
 I would know from whence he came." 
 
 Once again with troubled haste 
 Up and down the steward glides ; 
 
 " Twelve good pilgrims sup with thee, 
 And no alien 'mid them hides." 
 
42 LEGENDS. 
 
 " It is well," the Father said, 
 But his heart within him shook 5 
 
 He perceived that in their midst 
 One unseen the feast partook ! 
 
 On the room a silence fell, 
 
 Silence as of heavenly grace 
 Ah ! how burned the sunset gold 
 
 On each pilgrim's bended face, 
 
 And upon the threshold poised, 
 
 Mindful of the unwonted spell, 
 Lo ! a silver plumaged dove 
 
 Trilled a mellow canticle ! 
 
 One by one the guests withdrew, 
 
 Then the stranger coming near 
 Silent paused the pontiff's lips 
 
 Trembling asked " What dost thou here ? " 
 
 " Gregory ! at St. Andrew's gate 
 
 Oft to me thy alms were given, 
 Fear not now thy soul's desire 
 
 In my name to ask of Heaven ! " 
 
 As he spoke celestial rays 
 
 Soft around his forehead flowed, 
 
ST. GREGORY'S GUEST. 43 
 
 And his form from earth upraised 
 In a violet nimbus glowed. 
 
 Slow the shining vision passed 
 All his soul in thanks outpoured, 
 
 Blessed Gregory cried aloud, 
 " I have entertained the Lord ! " 
 
A STORM FANTASY. 
 
 THE lonely wind a Banshee of despair 
 
 Wails through the wintry night, 
 And the affrighted Moon, no longer fair, 
 
 Veils her wan face from sight. 
 She knows the signals of that voice and why 
 With his keen moan he desolates the sky. 
 
 The sad, sad Rain comes sobbing at his call, 
 She smites the earth with tears 
 
 " There is no rest," she sighs " no rest in all 
 The ever-dying years. 
 
 In cloudland hid I would forever stay, 
 
 Why call me thence to weep my life away ? ' 
 
 Thus as the ages pass ; and who may know 
 
 Or dare to tell again 
 The legend of these spectres and their woe, 
 
 The grieving Wind and Rain ? 
 
 O O 
 
 Lovers perchance in some primeval world, 
 For darkest treachery into darkness hurled ! 
 
 44 
 
A STORM FANTASY. 45 
 
 Still mocked by hope and haunted by regret 
 
 They seek the earth again, 
 Yearning to meet each other they forget 
 
 Their wish is always vain. 
 For he has but a voice of wordless woe, 
 She has but tears that blind her as they flow. 
 
 O lost, lost spirits of the storm and night ! 
 
 Listening to you I know 
 There is a depth to which no ray of light 
 
 From Heaven's expanse can flow. 
 Come, Ans^el of the morning, come ao-ain ! 
 
 * d? CJ ' ^j 
 
 Speak "Peace be still! "unto the Wind and 
 Rain. 
 
TUBA. 
 
 'T is written on the flowery page 
 Of Islam's visionary sage, 
 
 That Tuba tree of happiness, 
 Whose fruit shall all believers bless, 
 
 Hath roots whose fibres strong and deep 
 Beneath the world's foundations sleep, 
 
 Yet never wind of earth shall blow 
 The odors from one spicy bough. 
 
 Far up beyond the walls of time 
 The star-bespangled branches climb, 
 
 Up through the musky gardens where 
 Eternal sunshine gilds the air, 
 
 And winged Houris flutter by 
 To low, delicious melody. 
 
 There over every palace door 
 The boughs of Tuba fragrance pour 
 
 46 
 
TUBA. 47 
 
 And sweet bells hung amid the flowers 
 
 ~ 
 
 Ring in and out the joyous hours. 
 
 Has not the orient sage declared 
 
 A truth which every soul has shared ? 
 
 We pluck the green leaves of delight 
 The branches reach beyond our sight ; 
 
 The germ of happiness is ours, 
 But airs diviner hide the flowers. 
 
 Here disappointment, gaunt and gray, 
 Salutes us daily on our way, 
 
 The truest love knows direst loss, 
 The surest triumph bears a cross, 
 
 And yet the soul may smile on fate 
 And with most loyal patience wait, 
 
 Believing that on heights unknown 
 
 V I ^J 
 
 She yet will come unto her own 
 
 Where Islam's tree, transfigured, gleams 
 With fairer fruit than Islam dreams ! 
 
IN days of old, 
 
 In solitude and silence grew the hour 
 When God and Nature first beheld unfold 
 
 The solitary flower. 
 
 Purple as night 
 
 Its petals opened in the forest gloom, 
 And the winds pausing in their seaward flight 
 
 Inhaled the strange perfume. 
 
 The hoary oak 
 
 Felt in its branches a responsive thrill, 
 The eagle from his lonely eyrie spoke, 
 
 And all again was still. 
 
 n. 
 
 Unwritten ages rolled 
 Into the past, and as each century's bell 
 Struck the full hour, the blossom would unfold, 
 
 With none its tale to tell. 
 
 48 
 
TEE CENTURY PLANT. 49 
 
 At last the silence ceased, 
 The desert wilderness a voice had found. 
 Strange wanderers from the overflowing East 
 
 Sought here a hunting ground. 
 
 The shadow-haunted glades 
 Echoed the savage song the warrior cry 
 And wild, barbaric worship filled the shades 
 
 With awful mystery. 
 
 Life warm and new 
 
 Through the dull fibres of the tree was shed; 
 The swelling buds revealed a living hue 
 
 Tinge of the morning red. 
 
 in. 
 
 Not unblest 
 
 The thousand years of silence and of night ; 
 Unto the hidden gardens of the West 
 
 God said " Let there be light ! " 
 
 And behold ! 
 
 It blooms again, the latest flower of Time ! 
 In the dark ages who could have foretold 
 
 The glory of its prime ? 
 
50 LEGENDS. 
 
 Palmiest days 
 
 Of Grecian grandeur or of Roman pride 
 Saw not their century bloom in such a blaze 
 
 Of fame, full-orbed, world-wide. 
 
 Heaven, bend low ! 
 
 From the last, lingering gloom our land release ! 
 Let the perfection of the ages blow 
 
 White as the plume of Peace ! 
 
A TUSCAN LEGEND. 
 
 good St. Ambrose paused at close of day 
 Before a Tuscan noble's open door, 
 With welcome words the host his entrance urged 
 And spread before him of his choicest store. 
 
 Within, the palace shone with gems of art, 
 Bronze, marble, gold, in forms antique and 
 rare, 
 
 Refreshing fountains tossed a snowy spray, 
 And sumptuous roses sweetened all the air. 
 
 The fasting saint with thanks the food partook, 
 And with his fellow-pilgrims silent shared, 
 
 Then, still reclining at the table, sought 
 Of his kind host if well or ill he fared. 
 
 Glowed with a haughty joy the Tuscan's brow, 
 "All things are well with me," his proud 
 
 reply 
 
 'My wealth provides for each luxurious want, 
 Nor knows ambition one unanswered sigh. 
 
 51 
 
52 LEGENDS. 
 
 "My slaves, obedient, watch my lightest look; 
 
 My children, beautiful, enhance my joy ; 
 Pain, mourning, in this palace are unknown, 
 
 My state is happiness without alloy." 
 
 What said the saint ? Up from that lordly 
 
 board 
 
 He rose in haste, his visnge pale with fear, 
 And to the startled pilgrims cried aloud, 
 " Flee from this place ! the Lord abides not 
 here." 
 
 Outspoken saint ! Thy words may well convey 
 Terror and comfort to the end of time ; 
 
 Woe, to the soul sufficient to itself, 
 But to the stricken, prophecy sublime. 
 
 Grief is the shadow of the Lord's approach, 
 Darkness, the pathway of the Bethlehem 
 star, 
 
 Let him exult whom sacred sorrow leads 
 To reach for God, and find He is not far! 
 
THE HELIOTROPE. 
 
 SOMEWHERE 't is told that in an Eastern land, 
 Clasped in the dull palm of a mummy's hand 
 A few lii^ht seeds were found : with wondering 
 
 o 
 
 eyes 
 And words of awe was lifted up the prize. 
 
 And much they marvelled what could be so 
 
 dear 
 
 Of herb or flower as to be treasured here, 
 What sacred vow had made the dying keep 
 So close this token for his last long sleep. 
 
 None ever knew, but in the fresh, warm earth 
 The cherished seeds sprang to a second birth, 
 And eloquent once more with love and hope 
 Burst into bloom the purple heliotrope. 
 
 Embalmed, perhaps, with sorrow's fiery tears, 
 Out of the silence of a thousand years 
 It answered back the passion of the past 
 With the pure breath of perfect peace at last. 
 
 53 
 
54 LEGENDS. 
 
 O pulseless heart ! as ages pass, sleep well ! 
 The purple flower thy secret will not tell, 
 But only to our eager quest reply, 
 " Love, hidden in the grave, can never die." 
 
THE FIRST AT THE FEAST. 
 
 ST. MARTIX once, an honored guest, 
 
 Sat at the royal board ; 
 With his own hand a cup of wine 
 
 The gracious sovereign poured, 
 And bade, with smiles, the favored priest 
 Drink first, as greatest at the feast. 
 
 The father took the sparkling cup, 
 With priceless gems it blazed, 
 
 And down the gleaming banquet hall 
 In thoughtful silence gazed. 
 
 How shone the place with splendors rare ! 
 
 Was he indeed the greatest there ? 
 
 What to the King of Kings availed 
 
 This pomp of earthly state ? 
 What unto Him were crown and throne 
 
 And soldiers at the gate ? 
 The flowers, the lights, the lustrous gold, 
 The music that voluptuous rolled? 
 
 55 
 
56 LEGENDS. 
 
 Would Heaven's high Sovereign deem him great. 
 
 O O O ' 
 
 Because a fleeting hour 
 He sunned himself in royal smiles 
 
 And shared imperial power ? 
 Ah ! nobler far the humblest there 
 Who meekly served in trust and prayer. 
 
 "Not unto me ! " he spoke at last 
 
 And beckoned with his hand 
 To a poor priest who waiting stood 
 
 To hear his least command. 
 " By worldly glory undefiled, 
 Drink thou, our Master's worthier child ! ' 
 
 The priest obeyed ; the monarch heard 
 
 A voice beyond his own ; 
 Nobles and warriors bowed in awe 
 
 Of a superior throne. 
 And in the hush St. Martin's face 
 Seemed to illumine all the place ! 
 
TEARS OF ISIS. 
 
 WHEN Isis, by true mother love oppressed, 
 Held wounded Horus to her goddess breast, 
 Each tear that touched the sympathetic earth 
 To some rich, aromatic herb gave birth. 
 
 Such healing sprang from her celestial pain, 
 Mortals no longer seek relief in vain, 
 For oft as spring awakes the slumbering years, 
 In wood and meadow blossom Isis' tears. 
 
 O Goddess of the starry lotus bloom ! 
 Thou didst foreshadow many a lonely doom ; 
 Thy sorrow by divinest alchemy 
 Could comfort others, who could comfort 
 thee? 
 
 57 
 
VIDAR THE SILENT. 
 
 WHEN the last bird flutters southward 
 
 As the sunlight fainter glows, 
 And into the dim November 
 
 A pensive stillness flows, 
 When the mountain summits wrap them 
 
 In robes of brown and gold, 
 I think of the Norsemen's Vidar, 
 
 The silent god of old. 
 
 He dwells in the boundless forests, 
 
 In pathless wilds unknown, 
 He loves the breeze-rocked prairies, 
 
 And the mountains are his own. 
 In the bloom of songful summer 
 
 He shuns the haunts of men, 
 But he comes with the days of darkness 
 
 To look on the world again. 
 
 By the bleak and desolate sea-shore 
 The waves their tumult cease, 
 
 The rivulets know his footfall 
 And tremble into peace. 
 
 58 
 
VIDAR THE SILENT. 59 
 
 The wind steals into the forest, 
 The tall trees watchful stand, 
 And the stars hang mute and pensive 
 As he roams the leafless land. 
 
 
 
 No voice nor speech has Vidar, 
 
 And his features no man knows, 
 But he lays his hand on the heart-strings 
 
 And wonderful music flows ; 
 As if the reverberations 
 
 Of a long and sorrowful past 
 Were slowly ascending and blending 
 
 With the peace that shall come at last. 
 
 Thus Vidar the Silent passes 
 
 Over the world's wide space, 
 Giving to all who greet him 
 
 One beautiful hour of grace. 
 Then welcome the tuneless branches ! 
 
 Welcome the darkened days ! 
 There shall be light on the shadows 
 
 And in the stillness, praise. 
 
SONG OF PLYMOUTH ROCK. 
 
 A THOUSAND years I kept 
 
 My watch by the slumbering sea, 
 
 A thousand omens read 
 
 Of the day that was coming to me. 
 
 'T was uttered by wind and wave 
 And whispered by cloud and star, 
 
 " The soul of Freedom sleeps until 
 The c Mayflower ' sails from far." 
 
 The tide came surging up 
 
 From the depths of ocean's caves, 
 
 And ever a promise brought 
 
 Of the bark that would cross the waves , 
 
 The tide went rolling down 
 
 O 
 
 In surf and swell and foam, 
 And ever I dreamed it ran to bid 
 The " Mayflower " welcome home ! 
 
 It fell with the falling snow, 
 The word of fate at last, 
 
 60 
 
OF PL Y MOUTH ROCK. 61 
 
 And the hailing bell of freedom rang 
 In the stormy, wintry blast. 
 
 " O sea ! " I said " be kind ! 
 
 Be faithful sky and star ! 
 With priceless freight to all the land 
 
 The " Mayflower " rides afar. 
 
 She was moored within the bay, 
 
 Pale blossom of the sea 
 And the boats went to and fro 
 
 Until all were brought to me. 
 
 O I had waited long 
 
 For the touch of those pilgrim feet : 
 The wintry air grew redolent 
 
 With incense strange and sweet, 
 
 For the gate of heaven swung wide 
 
 And angels thronged the air, 
 As that Pilgrim band their voices raised 
 
 O 
 
 In fervent praise and prayer. 
 
 They were feeble, faint and few, 
 
 That little sea-tossed flock, 
 But never en earth will the echo die, 
 
 Of that prayer upon the Rock. 
 
62 LEGENDS. 
 
 The wanderers passed on 
 
 To watch and toil and die, 
 And the " Mayflower " homeward sailed 
 
 And was lost in the morning sky ; 
 
 But wide over all the land, 
 
 Free as the sunlight's ray, 
 Grow the fearless faith, the fervent zeal 
 
 Which came to shore that day. 
 
 Now evermore I watch 
 
 By the side of the sounding sea, 
 Muse and ponder and dream 
 
 Of the glory that came to me. 
 
 For Freedom crossed the deep 
 
 To a heritage unknown ; 
 The " Mayflower " was her ark of hope, 
 
 The Rock her altar-stone. 
 
NOROMBEGA. 
 
 MIDSUMMER'S crimson moon 
 Above the hills like some night-opening rose 
 Uplifted, pours its beauty down the vale 
 
 Where broad Penobscot flows. 
 
 The night is all in bloom 
 
 With subtle sweetness from the skies distilled, 
 The vesper wind in whispers steals along, 
 
 By the soft silence thrilled. 
 
 Of old the fairy world 
 Held royal revel on midsummer's eve, 
 Once more along the moonbeams they may come 
 
 The twinkling dance to weave ; 
 
 Or by the moonlight spell 
 Entranced, and listening with attentive ear, 
 The drowsy whispers of the ripening leaves 
 
 And harvests, I may hear. 
 
 Now on the field of night 
 No longer blooms one solitary rose! 
 
 63 
 
64 LEGENDS. 
 
 With countless groups of silver-petalled stars 
 The infinite garden glows, 
 
 And the transfigured moon, 
 Grown paler, clearer, like a lily white, 
 Immaculate in beauty, hangs above 
 
 The starry wreath of night. 
 
 A splendid glamour drowns 
 All sound in silence; even the lapping wave 
 Just trembles to the shore, with stilly touch 
 
 The lonely rock to lave. 
 
 And I remember now, 
 
 That this is haunted ground. In ages past 
 Here stood the storied Norombecja's walls 
 
 O 
 
 Magnificent and vast. 
 
 The streets were ivory-paved, 
 The stately walls were built of golden ore, 
 Its domes outshone the sunset, and full boughs 
 
 O 
 
 Hesperian fruitage bore. 
 
 And up this winding flood 
 Has wandered many a sea-tossed, daring bark, 
 While ea^er eyes have scanned the ruined shore, 
 
 O * ~C? 
 
 Or pierced the wild wood dark ; 
 
NOROMBEGA. 65 
 
 But watched in vain : afar 
 They saw the spires gleam golden on the sky, 
 The distant drum-beat heard, or bugle note, 
 
 Wound wildly, fitfully, 
 
 Banners of strange device 
 
 Beckoned from distant heights, yet as the stream 
 Narrowed among the hills, the city fled, 
 
 A mystery, or a dream. 
 
 In the deep forest hid 
 Like the enchanted princess of romance, 
 Wooing an endless search, yet still secure 
 
 In her unbroken trance. 
 
 city of the Past ! 
 
 No mirage of the wilderness wert thou ! 
 Though yet unfreed from the mysterious spell, 
 
 1 deem thee slumbering now. 
 
 Perhaps invisible feet 
 
 White-sandalled pass amid the moonbeams pale, 
 Yon shadow-wave may be some lordly barge 
 
 Drifting with phantom sail. 
 
 The legend was not all 
 A myth, it was a prophecy as well : 
 
66 LEGENDS. 
 
 In Norombega's cloud-wrapt palaces 
 The living yet shall dwell. 
 
 Fed by its hundred lakes 
 Here shall the river run o'er golden sands, 
 These hills in burnished tower and temple shine 
 
 Beneath the builder's hands ! 
 
 Where tarries still the hour 
 When the true knight shall the enchantment 
 
 O 
 
 break, 
 
 Unveil the peerless city of the east, 
 The charmed princess wake ? 
 
 Till then, O River, tell 
 
 To none but dreaming bards the Future's boon ! 
 Till then guard thou the mystery of the vale, 
 
 Midsummer midnight moon ! 
 
KINEO. 
 
 THE LEGEND OF MOOSSHEAD LAKE. 
 
 How beautiful the morning breaks 
 Upon the King of mountain lakes ! 
 The forests, far as eye can reach, 
 Stretch green and still from either beach, 
 And leagues away the water's gleam 
 Resplendent in the sunrise beam ; 
 Yet feathery vapors, circling slow 
 Wreathe the dark brow of Kineo. 
 
 The hermit Mount in sullen scorn 
 Repels the rosy touch of morn, 
 As some remorseful, lonely heart, 
 From human pleasure set apart, 
 Shrinks even from the tender touch 
 Of pity, lest it yield too much, 
 So speechless still to friend or foe, 
 Frowns the black cliff of Kineo. 
 
 Yet, as the whispering ripples break 
 From the still surface of the lake 
 On the repellent rocks, they seem 
 To murmur low, as in a dream, 
 
 67 
 
68 LEGENDS. 
 
 The mountain's name, and day by day 
 The listening breezes bear away 
 A memory of the long ago., 
 A sad, wild tale of Kineo. 
 
 How many moons can no man say 
 O'er heaven's blue sea have sailed away, 
 Since Kineo and his fleet canoe 
 First vanished from his kindred's view. 
 Hunter and warrior, lithe and keen, 
 No brave on all the lake was seen 
 Whose wigwani could such trophies show, 
 As the green roof of Kineo. 
 
 But wrathful, jealous, quick to strife, 
 He lived a passion-darkened life ; 
 Even Maquaso, his mother, fled 
 His baneful lodge in mortal dread. 
 Then gathering round the midnight fire, 
 The old men spake with threatenings dire 
 " Out from our councils he must go, 
 The demon-haunted Kineo ! " 
 
 In sullen and remorseful mood 
 He gave himself to solitude. 
 Up the wild rocks by night he bore 
 Of all he prized a stealthy'store, 
 
KINEO. 69 
 
 Flint, arrows, knife and birch. Who knows 
 But some dark lock or dead wild rose, 
 The phantom of an untold woe, 
 Shared the lone haunt of Kineo ? 
 
 The mountain was his own ; than he 
 None other dared its mystery. 
 None sought to meet the savage glare 
 Of the wild hunter in his lair : 
 But when far up the mountain side 
 Each night a lurid flame they spied, 
 The watchful red men muttered low, 
 " There hides our brother Kineo." 
 
 Years passed. Among the storm-swept pines 
 
 From moon to moon he read the signs 
 
 Of blossom and decay. He knew 
 
 The eagle that familiar flew 
 
 About his path. The fearless bird 
 
 His melancholy accents heard, 
 
 But glen or shore no more might know 
 
 The swift, still step of Kineo, 
 
 Save once. His tribe in deadly fray 
 Had battled all the lowering day, 
 And many a brave Penobscot's blood 
 Was mingling in the lake's pure flood, 
 
70 LEGENDS. 
 
 When like a spectre, through the gloom, 
 With gleaming knife and eagle plume, 
 And glance that burned with lurid glow, 
 Strode the bold form of Kineo ! 
 
 A hush like death and then a cry, 
 Fierce and exultant, pierced the sky I 
 They rallied round that fiery plume 
 And smote the foe with hopeless doom. 
 But when the grateful warriors fain 
 Would seek his well-known face again, 
 Their gifts and homage to bestow, 
 Gone, like a mist, was Kineo. 
 
 They saw him not, but from that hour 
 They bowed before his wizard power ; 
 His watch-fire grew to be a shrine 
 Half terrible and half divine. 
 None ever knew when death drew nigh, 
 When into darker mystery 
 Of cloud above or deep below 
 Stole the sad ghost of Kineo. 
 
 But when his camp-fire burned no more, 
 The solitary mountain bore 
 His name; and when at times the sky 
 Grew dark, a long, despairing sigh 
 
K1NEO. 71 
 
 Down the dark precipices rolled 
 And tempest terrible foretold. 
 The fishers feared the wind, the snow, 
 The lightning, less than Kineo. 
 
 Now beautiful the morning skies 
 Look on this forest paradise; 
 Fresh voices, loud and joyous, wake 
 The echoes of the grand old lake : 
 But underneath that frowning height 
 The shadow and the spell of night 
 Come back : the oars fall still and slow, 
 The waves sigh, Peace to Jfineof 
 
THE BOWDOIN OAK. 
 
 Planted in 1802 by George Thorndike, a member of the 
 first class of Bowdoin. He died at the age of twenty-one, 
 the only one of that class remembered by the students of 
 Bowdoin to-day. Oration of T. 7?. Simon ton. 
 
 YE breezy boughs of Bowdoin's oak, 
 
 Sing low your summer rune ! 
 In murmuring, rhythmic tones respond 
 
 To every breath of June ; 
 
 And memories of the joyous youth, 
 Through all your songs repeat, 
 
 Who plucked the acorn from the twig 
 Blown lightly to his feet, 
 
 And gayly to his fellows cried : 
 
 "My destiny behold ! 
 This seed shall keep my memory green 
 
 In ages yet untold. 
 
 " I trust it to the sheltering sod, 
 
 I hail the promised tree ! 
 Sing, unborn oak, through long decades, 
 
 And ever sing of me ! ' 
 
THE BOW DO IN OAK. 1 
 
 By cloud and sunbeam nourished well, 
 
 The tender sapling grew, 
 Less stalwart than the rose which drank 
 
 From the same cup of dew ; 
 
 But royal blood was in its veins, 
 
 Of true Hellenic line, 
 And sunward reached its longing arms 
 
 With impulses divine. 
 
 The rushing river as it passed 
 Caught whispers from the tree, 
 
 And each returning tide brought back 
 The answer of the sea. 
 
 Till to the listening groves a voice, 
 
 New and harmonious, spoke, 
 And from a throne of foliage looked 
 
 The spirit of the oak ! 
 
 Then birds of happiest omen built 
 
 High in its denser shade, 
 And grand responses to the storms 
 
 The sounding branches made. 
 
 Beneath its bower the bard beloved 
 His budding chaplet wore, 
 
 o 
 
74 LEGENDS. 
 
 The wizard kin<? of romance dreamed 
 
 ^ 
 
 His wild, enchanting lore ; 
 
 And scholars, musing in its shade, 
 Here heard their country's cry 
 
 Their lips gave back " O sweet it is 
 For native land to die! ' 
 
 With hearts that burned they cast aside 
 These peaceful, oaken bays ; 
 
 The hero's blood-red path they trod 
 Be theirs the hero's praise. 
 
 Oh, though Dodona's voice is hushed, 
 
 A new, intenser flame 
 Stirs the proud oak to whisper still 
 
 Some dear illustrious name ! 
 
 And what of him whose happy mood 
 Foretold this sylvan birth ? 
 
 In boyhood's prime he sank to rest ; 
 His work was done on earth. 
 
 Brief was his race, and light his task 
 
 For immortality, 
 His only tribute to the years 
 
 The planting of a tree. 
 
THE BOWDOIN OAK. 75 
 
 Sing low, green oak, thy summer rune, 
 
 Sing valor, love and truth, 
 Thyself a fair, embodied thought, 
 
 A living dream of youth. 
 

LYRICS. 
 
 77 
 
LTEIOS. 
 
 EASTER MORNING. 
 
 i. 
 
 OSTEKA ! spirit of springtime, 
 
 Awake from thy slumbers deep ! 
 Arise ! and with hands that are glowing, 
 
 Put off the white garments of sleep ! 
 Make thyself fair, O goddess ! 
 
 In new and resplendent array, 
 For the footsteps of Him who has risen 
 
 Shall be heard in the dawn of day. 
 
 Flushes the trailing arbutus 
 Low under the forest leaves, 
 
 A sign that the drowsy goddess 
 The breath of her Lord perceives. 
 
 79 
 
80 LYRICS. 
 
 While He suffered, her pulse beat numbly ; 
 
 While He slept, she was still with pain ; 
 But now He awakes 'He has risen 
 
 Her beauty shall bloom again. 
 
 O hark ! in the budding woodlands, 
 
 Now far, now near, is heard 
 The first prelusive w r arble 
 
 Of rivulet and of bird. 
 O listen! the Jubilate 
 
 From every bough is poured, 
 And earth in the smile of the springtime 
 
 Arises to greet her Lord ! 
 
 ii. 
 
 Radiant goddess Aurora ! 
 
 Open the chambers of dawn ; 
 Let the Hours like a garland of graces 
 
 Encircle the chariot of morn. 
 Thou dost herald no longer Apollo, 
 
 The god of the sunbeam and lyre ; 
 The pride of his empire is ended, 
 
 And pale is his armor of fire. 
 
 From a loftier height than Olympus 
 Light flows, from the Temple above, 
 
EASTER MORNING. 81 
 
 And the mists of old legends are scattered 
 
 37 
 
 In the dawn of the Kingj-dom of Love. 
 
 O 
 
 Come forth from the cloudland of fable, 
 For day in full splendor make room, 
 
 For a triumph that lost not its glory 
 As it paused in the sepulchre's gloom. 
 
 She comes ! the bright goddess of morning, 
 
 In crimson and purple array, 
 Far down on the hill-tops she tosses 
 
 The first golden lilies of day. 
 O'er the mountains her sandals are glowing, 
 
 O'er the valleys she speeds on the wing, 
 Till earth is all rosy and radiant 
 
 For the feet of the new-risen King. 
 
 in. 
 
 Open the gates of the Temple ; 
 
 Spread brandies of palm and of bay; 
 Let not the spirits of Nature 
 
 Alone deck the Conqueror's way. 
 While Spring from her death-sleep arises, 
 
 And joyous His presence awaits, 
 While Morning's smile lights up the Heavens, 
 
 Open the Beautiful Gates ! 
 
82 LYRICS. 
 
 He is here ! the lonsj watches are over, 
 
 o 
 
 The stone from the grave rolled away ; 
 " We shall sleep," was the sigh of the midnight.' 
 
 " We shall rise," is the song of to-day. 
 O Music ! no longer lamenting, 
 
 On pinions of tremulous flame 
 Go soaring to meet the Beloved, 
 
 O * 
 
 And swell the new song of His fame ! 
 
 The altar is snowy with blossoms, 
 
 The font is a vase of perfume, 
 On pillar and chancel are twining 
 
 Fresh garlands of eloquent bloom. 
 Christ is risen ! with glad lips we utter ; 
 
 And far up the infinite height 
 Archangels the paaan re-echo, 
 
 And crown Him with lilies of Light ! 
 
URANIA. 
 
 FROM what superior star 
 Gazing, entranced, afar, 
 Didst them first look on earth when earth was 
 
 young ? 
 
 Thou whom the singers of all days have sung, 
 Spirit of Song ! by many names adored, 
 Whose deep, sweet speech, the music of the 
 
 soul, 
 
 Our human utterance cannot yet control, 
 Upon whose dazzling shrine are ceaseless offer- 
 ings poured. 
 
 When first thy sun-shod feet 
 Pressed the new verdure, sweet 
 With timid violet and virgin rose, 
 When first thy rainbow plumage passing by, 
 The shepherd bards discerned, ah ! rapturously 
 They sought thy inspiration to disclose. 
 With burning heart and glances raised above, 
 Speech overflowed in song, and all their theme 
 was love. 
 
 83 
 
84 LYRICS. 
 
 Nor didst thou linger long 
 In vales of pastoral song. 
 Judea's harp thy fervid fingers strung. 
 The groves of palm, the sacred rivers heard, 
 The cedars upon Lebanon were stirred 
 When David's lips immortal measures sung. 
 And smoke of costliest odors rose to heaven 
 With chorus and response by Hebrew voices 
 given. 
 
 On Orpheus' glowing lyre 
 Was laid thy touch of fire ; 
 By thy own lips, on Sappho's brow was pressed 
 The mystic kiss which woke her soul's unrest. 
 Unveiled by thee in thy most radiant mood 
 The palaces that on Olympus stood, 
 From whose charmed portals came at thy 
 
 decree 
 
 The gods of earth and heaven, the nymphs of 
 air and sea. 
 
 Then was the age of gold, 
 
 When bards heroic told 
 Heroic legends of primeval days. 
 Then had the singer his full meed of praise, 
 For thou didst touch the laurel with thy wand, 
 And prince and warrior with exultant hand 
 
URANIA. 85 
 
 Wove the bright bays around the minstrel's 
 
 name. 
 
 Their valor was his theme ; his song their surest 
 fame. 
 
 Yet not by these was seen 
 The splendor of thy mien, 
 The full, unclouded glory of thy face ; 
 These caught but glimpses of the light divine, 
 And counting thee among the " sacred nine," 
 Groped in the darkness for thy dwelling-place. 
 Milton alone o'er elder bards prevailed, 
 Upon the starry heights he saw thy brow unveiled. 
 
 Dearer through ages grown, 
 Thou wilt not leave alone 
 The world thy presence has made half divine. 
 Still countless votaries bow before thy shrine ; 
 The Norseman's ringing ballad, the soft chime 
 Of Spanish lute to silver-sandalled rhyme, 
 The hymn of freedom by the sunset sea, 
 Or Persia's passion-lays, all sacred are to thee. 
 
 Some a v e content to reach 
 The still, inaudible speech 
 
 Of winds and woods and waters' rhythmic flow ; 
 
 These know thee best in Nature's whispers low, 
 
86 LTEICS. 
 
 And with the hem of thy rich garment pressed 
 To tuneful lips, they are supremely blest. 
 Others have caught a more transcendent gleam, 
 And greet thee on the heights of prophecy and 
 dream. 
 
 
 Stay, thou resplendent one ! 
 
 Not yet thy task is done, 
 Not yet the perfect song of ages sung ! 
 A rose unblown it sleeps upon thy breast, 
 Waiting to make some later Eden blest. 
 Still be the halo of thy beauty flung 
 Over dark days, dark years, until afar 
 Above the new song's birth, thou smilest like a 
 a star ! 
 
ONLY WAITING. 
 
 ONLY waiting till the shadows 
 
 Are a little longer grown, 
 Only waiting till the glimmer 
 
 Of the day's last beam is flown ; 
 Till the night of earth is faded 
 
 From this heart once full of day, 
 Till the dawn of Heaven is breaking 
 
 Through the twilight soft and gray. 
 
 Only waiting till the reapers 
 
 Have the last sheaf gathered home, 
 For the summer-time hath faded 
 
 And the autumn winds are come. 
 Quickly, reapers, gather quickly 
 
 The last ripe hours of my heart 
 For the bloom of life is withered, 
 
 And I hasten to depart. 
 
 Only waiting till the angels 
 Open wide the mystic gate, 
 
 At whose feet I long have lingered, 
 Weary, poor, and desolate. 
 
 87 
 
88 LYRICS. 
 
 Even now I hear their footsteps 
 And their voices far away : 
 
 If they call me I am waiting, 
 Only waiting to obey. 
 
 Only waiting till the shadows 
 Are a little longer grown, 
 
 o o / 
 
 Only waiting till the glimmer 
 Of the day's last beam is flown ; 
 
 Then from out the folded darkness 
 Holy, deathless stars shall rise, 
 
 By whose light my soul will gladly 
 Wing her passage to the skies. 
 
ARCADIA. 
 
 WE heard it first on an April morn, 
 
 If rung by fairies I cannot tell, 
 But earth was smiling o'er flowers new-born, 
 
 And birds home coming to wood and dell 
 With jubilant music saluted the dawn, 
 
 When far in the distance we heard a sweet 
 
 bell, 
 
 A flute-like echo, a dulcet strain, 
 That pierced our hearts with a tender pain, 
 The bell-call of Arcadia. 
 
 " Where can we find it ? " we asked the wise 
 Who musing sat in the willow shade. 
 
 They, looking on us with wistful eyes, 
 Answer vague to our question made : 
 
 "Nor east nor west that fair land lies, 
 A seal of magic is on it laid ; 
 
 But love and longing the spell unbind, 
 
 And he who follows at last may find 
 The hidden land, Arcadia. 
 
 89 
 
90 LYRICS. 
 
 "Down evergreen mountains in sparkling sheen 
 
 A hundred rivulets seek the sea; 
 Flocks, snow-white, feed in the pastures green, 
 
 And under the boughs of the dark fir-tree 
 To shepherd minstrels of joyous mien 
 
 The wood-god Pan pipes cheerily. 
 Always summer days, blithe and long. 
 Always melody, bloom, and song, 
 In the fair land of Arcadia." 
 
 We could not linger. With hearts that beat 
 Wild with lono-ino; and fond desire, 
 
 o o 
 
 We followed the call of the bell so sweet. 
 " Soon," we said, " will that sylvan lyre 
 With witching welcome our senses Greet. 
 
 C.7 
 
 Ere sunset brightens yon purple spire 
 We shall rest among roses our weary feet." 
 
 Was it fancy ? The dear home violets' eyes 
 Seemed brimming with tears of sad surprise 
 But away to rare Arcadia ! 
 
 Many a morning's ruddy tide 
 
 Flooded the midnight's desolate bar, 
 
 Many a sunset splendor died, - 
 
 Yet Hope rekindled the evening star, 
 
 And still o'er desert or mountain side 
 We heard the silvery chime afar, 
 
AECADIA. 91 
 
 Calling " Hither, O pilgrim feet, 
 Here your rest shall be full and sweet 
 In green groves of Arcadia." 
 
 At times the kiss of a sudden breeze 
 With tropic odors our senses stirred, 
 
 Breath of scarlet pomegranite trees 
 And lotus blossoms. We surely heard 
 
 The low, soft rhythm of summer seas, 
 The brooding note of the Halcyon bird. 
 
 Onward we pressed : so near, at last, 
 
 One more brief shadow of woodland past, 
 And then our blest Arcadia ! 
 
 But after the woodland, the black ravine, 
 And further, a long, lone mountain height, 
 
 There, as we clambered with saddened mien, 
 In the fading Autumn's sunset light 
 
 For the leaves were russet that once were 
 
 green 
 Pilgrims numberless met our sight, 
 
 Snow-white locks on the evening wind, 
 
 O 
 
 And mournfully, steadfastly looking behind 
 They sighed, " Farewell, Arcadia ! ' 
 
 We too looked back, and a wonderful 
 
 ? 
 
 Lay on the landscape our feet had passed ; 
 
92 LYRICS. 
 
 Clearer the morning and softer than night, 
 O'er all the road was the glamor cast. 
 
 And there, revealed to our yearning sight, 
 The beautiful valley lay at last. 
 
 Far back where the April violets grew, 
 
 There smiled, amid crystals of deathless dew, 
 Our first and last Arcadia ! 
 
A BUDDHIST VISION. 
 I. 
 
 Ix his night-watch beneath the Banian tree 
 Buddha, the blessed, saw the years unsealed, 
 And change on change of wondrous destiny 
 In his own life revealed ; 
 
 Saw the long path of darkness and of pain, 
 
 From tiger crouching in his jungle lair, 
 To priest grown wan with fasting and with 
 prayer 
 
 Nirvana's peace to gain.. 
 
 If for one hour his vision we might share, 
 
 O ' 
 
 His moonlight faith accepting, stand aside 
 From the strong sunshine of to-day, and dare 
 Down the dark past to glide, 
 
 By what fantastic labyrinths of space, 
 
 Through what ripe moments of unconscious 
 
 doom, 
 
 What endless links of motion, music, bloom, 
 Our lineage we niiqlit trace! 
 
 O O 
 
 93 
 
94 LYEICS. 
 
 II. 
 
 My eyes were opened. Down the years unknown, 
 In a dim forest I beheld afar 
 A fragile plant amid whose leaves had grown 
 One blossom, like a star. 
 
 Nurtured in gloom, in speechless solitude 
 
 It watched the hour which brought a sunbeam 
 
 near, 
 
 Thus opening, fading, many a hopeless vear, 
 Till strange unrest imbued 
 
 Its feeble pulse. Unheard of all its kind 
 
 Its first, last sigh was breathed. And lo ! no 
 
 more 
 
 A blossom, but a lightly wandering wind 
 It roamed the woodland o'er ! 
 
 Out where the sunshine gilded all the land 
 
 It tossed the long plumes of the ripening 
 
 wheat, 
 Or seaward ran, the joyous waves to meet, 
 
 And played along the strand, 
 
 How long I know not. Fn a greenwood nook 
 
 o c? 
 
 It found a rivulet dancing in the sun, 
 
A BUDDHIST VISION. 
 
 It lingered, dallied, whispered with the brook 
 Till wave and wind were one. 
 
 O then what joy in melody new-born ! 
 What dimpled, prattling infancy of song, 
 In summer twilights beautiful and long, 
 And in the rosy dawn ! 
 
 Until green branches waving free and strong 
 Mingled above the stream in choral high ; 
 The brook was hushed, it heard a nobler song 
 And nearer to the sky. 
 
 So when the summer burned along the lea, 
 And fiery drought crept down the withered glen, 
 The spirit of the brook went forth again 
 Into a laurel tree. 
 
 Now was it conscious of a larger life, 
 
 Wide outlook, vigorous growth, the w r elcome 
 
 change 
 
 Of freshening foliage. Every pulse was rife 
 With strivins new and strane. 
 
 
 Exultant in its beauty, ardent beams 
 
 Swelled the rich buds and burst the creamy 
 flowers, 
 
96 LYRICS. 
 
 Yet as it rocked the birds in tuneful hours 
 It heard, as if in dreams, 
 
 A note its solemn measure had not learned, 
 
 A tone all other melodies above 
 Of wind, or wave or boughs that skyward turned, 
 It w r as the note of love ! 
 
 Stricken at last the tree gave forth its breath, 
 
 Far in a tropic nest a bird! ing stirred. 
 O nightingale ! no passing wing of death 
 Thy waking rapture heard. 
 
 Cradled in roses, upon roses fed, 
 
 Sweeter, diviner grew thy honeyed strain, 
 The tender, haunting, passionate refrain 
 Of many summers fled. 
 
 Unto a state of royalty was risen 
 
 The spirit which forever had desired 
 A height untried, and like a soul in prison 
 Still panted and aspired. 
 
 There came a sun-winged seraph. Stooping low 
 He whispered, " Singer, yet another change 
 Must come. Thy song, to reach sublimest range, 
 Must human sorrow know." 
 
A BUDDHIST VISION. 97 
 
 And thus it came to pass one starry dawn 
 The nightingale would never waken more ; 
 But in the northland by a stormy shore 
 A poet-child was born, 
 
 With many gifts and riches for his dower, 
 The deep desire for beauty and for light 
 Which rent the pale soul of the forest flower, 
 And the intense delight 
 
 In freedom which the roving wind had known, 
 Such rapture as had thrilled the brook, the 
 
 tree, 
 
 With love beyond the bulbul's minstrelsy, 
 And sorrow's mightier tone. 
 
 in. 
 
 Return, O Vision ! Shed one other ray 
 
 If from Nirvana or the holier Heaven ! 
 The years fall fast, the Poet must away : 
 What new song shall be given ? 
 
 The veil is dropt. Gautama's blissful shade 
 
 Is vanished and the brief illusion fled. 
 I only know that every life must fade, 
 And silent are the dead. 
 
98 LYRICS. 
 
 But if from many and from fair estates 
 Comes the true accent to the Poet's lips, 
 Rich heritage beyond this last eclipse 
 The high-born Singer waits. 
 
GREENWOOD GREETINGS. 
 
 THE morning of the year 
 
 Flushes again these northern glades. Awake, 
 O slumbering branches ! Once again the cheer 
 And comradeship of other summers take 
 On your mute faces. Answer me again, 
 And tell your winter's dream of ecstasy or pain. 
 
 Then first the maples stirred, 
 Their drooping blossoms trembling with delight, 
 And said " The nio-ht is over ! we have heard 
 
 O 
 
 The brook rejoicing in the breaking light 
 
 The rapture of the rain 
 Over the lost arbutus, found again; 
 The sod grows velvet green beneath our feet ; 
 Homeward the robins fly, and life again is 
 sweet ! ' 
 
 The pine tree flung 
 
 Its tassels to the wind and proudly sung, 
 "I dreamed of lands where over leagues of ice 
 
 O 
 
 The skaters joyous flew. Of northern lights 
 
 99 
 
100 LYRICS. 
 
 Flaming along the skies in strange device, 
 Of reindeer speeding through the glimmering 
 
 nights. 
 The forest trembled with old Odin's signs 
 
 O 
 
 Of stormy pain, but all undaunted sung the 
 pines ! ' : 
 
 The elm returned 
 
 " Of summer was my dream the long night 
 through. 
 
 O * 
 
 Of sunset-fires where myriad roses burned, 
 Giving their beauty back in morning dew. 
 Of interlacing boughs 
 
 O O 
 
 Festooned in arches meet for lover's vows, 
 And of the golden robin's nest that clung 
 Near to my heart, which throbbed whene'er the 
 birdlins sun." 
 
 . 
 
 O 
 
 Rough-hooded fir, 
 
 O ' 
 
 Why dost thou beckon to the juniper 
 With signs of joy ? Slow waved her rustling fan 
 As she replied: "I heard in my long dream 
 The mellow pipe, far blown, of jocund Pan 
 Invisible by wood and valley stream. 
 He is not dead, the god of dell and grove, 
 But with him, joyous still, the nymphs and 
 satyrs rove ! ' 
 
GREENWOOD GREETINGS. 101 
 
 The poplar trees 
 Their odorous buds all quivering in the 
 
 breeze, 
 Sighed "Heavy was our sleep and dark 
 
 with gloom 
 
 The dreaded vision of the night. Of yore 
 The fated poplar grew unto its doom 
 And powerless fell. Shaped from its shuddering 
 
 wood 
 
 The Cross was fashioned. Now and evermore 
 That woe returns. The stain of holy blood 
 
 Our slumber haunts alway, 
 
 And every waking leaf still trembles with 
 dismay." 
 
 The willow's plume 
 Swept the warm sod with downy tufts of 
 
 bloom. 
 
 " O willow ! thou dost ever earthward gaze 
 And sighs are all thy language." And the 
 
 tree 
 
 Whispered "I feel again the flowery days 
 Of a new year, but spring the fair, the free, 
 Cannot bring back the beautiful to me. 
 There is sound of tear-drops in the rain, 
 Of mourning in the air. The lost come not 
 
 again." 
 
, ' 
 
 
 102 LYXICS. 
 
 Ah ! then the cedars bent 
 Their glossy crowns and spake with deep 
 
 content : 
 " We have not slept nor dreamed the livelong 
 
 night ! 
 In our dark mantles wrapped we watched 
 
 for lii>'ht. 
 
 O 
 
 We are the faithful. In our spicy boughs 
 The breath of Lebanon forever flows. 
 Summer or winter, life or death may be, 
 Hope gathers garlands green from off the cedar 
 tree 1 " 
 
 O kindred of the wood, 
 
 Lift up your heads ! for now the sunrise beams 
 Scatter the mist of darkness and of dreams : 
 The world is made anew and it is good ! 
 A thousand voices herald summer's day, 
 Let us drink deep from life's fresh fountains 
 while we may. 
 
THE FIRST ROBIN. 
 
 WELCOME again, from the land of the summer, 
 
 Bird in the maple with jubilant song ! 
 Nodding and singing thy rapturous greeting, 
 Where hast thou stayed from our garden 
 
 so long ? 
 
 Often the little ones looked from the window, 
 When the soft snowflakes fell fleecy and 
 
 dumb, 
 Saying, "See, mother! the white bees are 
 
 swarming ; 
 When will they go and the red robins come ? ' : 
 
 Rocked on the bough of the silver-leafed maple, 
 Hast thou one sigh for the orange and palm ? 
 Could the magnolia's sweet-scented blossoms 
 
 O 
 
 Waft o'er thy sleep a more exquisite balm ? 
 Bird of the North ! thou hast winged thy way 
 homeward, 
 
 Led by a love that was constant and strong, 
 On the same bou^h that in other davs rocked 
 
 V 
 
 thee, 
 
 Build a new nest, but, oh ! sing the old song 
 
 103 
 
104 LYRICS. 
 
 Herald art thou of the pageant approaching, 
 
 The floral procession of Summer our queen ! 
 Let the winds barken, and hasten the sunbeams 
 
 To spread for her chariot a carpet of green. 
 Bid the trees hang out their banners of welcome, 
 
 Red and white banners of beautiful bloom ; 
 Sing, happy bird, till thy comrades advancing 
 
 Shall rout the last spectre of winter and 
 gloom. 
 
VIOLETS. 
 
 I KNOW a spot where woods are green, 
 
 And all the dim, delicious June 
 A brook flows fast the boughs between 
 
 And trills an eager, joyous tune. 
 
 In clear unbroken melody 
 
 The brook sings and the birds reply : 
 " The violets the violets ! " 
 
 Upon the water's velvet edge 
 
 The purple blossoms breathe delight, 
 
 Close nestled to the grassy sedge 
 As sweet as dawn, as dark as nis;ht. 
 
 ' O 
 
 O brook and branches, far away, 
 My heart keeps time with you to-day ! 
 " The violets the violets ! " 
 
 I sometimes dream that when at last 
 My life is done with fading things, 
 Again will blossom forth the past 
 To which my memory fondest clings. 
 That some fair star has kept for me, 
 Fresh blooming still by brook and tree, 
 " The violets the violets ! " 
 
 105 
 
THE FEAST OF THE VALLEY. 
 
 IN elder days, beside the tawny Nile 
 
 Where royally embalmed the Pharaohs slept, 
 
 Year after year with pomp of flags and flowers 
 A beautiful and sacred feast was kept. 
 
 Feast of the valley : when the living bore 
 Tribute of fruits and incense to the dead, 
 
 Marching in gay procession, richly robed, 
 
 By the proud voice of drum and trumpet led. 
 
 And nothing doubted they that souls beloved, 
 
 Sailing the blue skies in Osiris' car, 
 Perceived in slumberous calm the fragrant <nfts, 
 
 O O 
 
 And heard the music, as in dreams, afar. 
 
 Thus in the garb of triumph we would keep 
 Memorial Day, the New World's feast of 
 
 flowers ; 
 
 What shadow can the silent valley hold, 
 Since glorified by such a faith as ours ! 
 
 106 
 
THE FEAST OF THE VALLEY. 107 
 
 With banners beautiful and sonms that tell 
 
 O 
 
 The pride and promise of sweet Freedom's 
 
 home, 
 
 Where sleep the sons who loved her unto death, 
 With garlands and with trophies we will 
 
 come. 
 
 Fair was the grave beneath the Orient palms, 
 While Heaven was dumb and yet unsealed the 
 tomb, 
 
 For us the heavy stone is rolled away, 
 The valley shows a light beyond the gloom. 
 
 And from their white encampments on the hills 
 Beyond our vision, the beloved reply 
 
 " Here Freedom smiles in a diviner air, 
 
 And, oh, 'tis sweet for native land to die ! " 
 
PEARLS OF PRICE. 
 
 LIFE, I fain would ask of thee 
 Gifts that shall abide with me ! 
 When the tinsel and the dross 
 Fall away in utter loss 
 When my spirit trembling stands 
 Just within the border lands, 
 All that I have called my own 
 Fading in that light unknown, 
 Let me not with desolate heart 
 See familiar joys depart. 
 
 Thou art rich, O Life, and I 
 For thy choicest guerdon sigh. 
 Give me things that cannot die! 
 
 Now while days are long and sweet 
 In midsummer, while my feet 
 Falter not amid the bloom, 
 And no warning sisms of doom 
 
 CJ d? 
 
 In the earth or sky foretell 
 Swift departure, long farewell, 
 Let me turn with strength divine 
 From this bright, bewildering wine, 
 
 108 
 
PEARLS OF PRICE. 100 
 
 Life's illusion, and perceive 
 
 What at nightfall I must leave. 
 
 Though it be through dearth and dole 
 I would follow to the goal 
 Treasure deathless as the soul. 
 
 Wide and loving brotherhood 
 
 With the gifted and the good, 
 
 Fellowship and joy intense 
 
 In glad nature's opulence; 
 
 Heart of calm and steadfast cheer, 
 
 Friendship deepening year by year, 
 
 Love that does not fear to wait 
 
 For its answer at Heaven's gate, 
 
 Faith, a beacon full in sight, 
 
 Cloud by day and flame by night, 
 These are riches, treasure, power, 
 Which outlive the fatal hour ; 
 Buds of time which Heaven will flower. 
 
 Surely down the sunset road 
 Comes the messenger of God, 
 Withering in his glance of fire 
 Every fleeting, vain desire. 
 At his touch will melt away 
 Fairest idols made of clay, 
 
110 LYRICS. 
 
 * 
 
 And in hopeless dust fall down 
 Robe and wreath and rosy crown. 
 Life, I will not let thee go 
 Till thy utmost boon I know ! 
 
 Let my soul's one triumph be, 
 Ere we part, to win from thee 
 Jewels for eternity ! 
 
THE SIGNAL. 
 
 FEOM yonder dormer window 
 
 For many a year has shone 
 A lamp whose nightly message 
 
 Was borne to me alone ; 
 For there a saintly lady 
 
 Watched for my answering light, 
 And to my little ones and me 
 
 Wafted her sweet " Good-night." 
 
 How often when the evening 
 
 ^j 
 
 Shut down on days of care, 
 When heart and brain were heavy 
 
 With burdens hard to bear, 
 That beam of tranquil brightness 
 
 Her holier calm expressed, 
 And to my troubled spirit spoke 
 
 Of patience and of rest. 
 
 To-night I sit in sadness 
 To sing my cradle hymn, 
 
 The window is all darkened, 
 The house is bleak and dim ; 
 
 111 
 
112 LYRICS. 
 
 Across the fields of moonlight 
 No glittering ray is shed, 
 
 The lamp is out, the chamber dark, 
 The saintly lady dead. 
 
 But just above the gable 
 
 With splendid beam afar, 
 And with unwonted beauty 
 
 Hangs low the evening star ! 
 Is that to be my signal 
 
 As years again go by ? 
 Am I to lift my eyes and read 
 
 Love's language in the sky ? 
 
 I take the happy omen, 
 The lovelio-ht from afar; 
 
 ^ ' 
 
 The watcher is exalted, 
 The lamp is now a star! 
 
 Still shall I read the message 
 In golden letters clear 
 
 Still to my little ones and me 
 The signal is " good cheer ! r 
 
A DREAMLAND CITY. 
 
 SOMETIMES the guarded gates 
 Of the unseen on outward hinges roll, 
 
 O 7 
 
 And in deep dreams of night the troubled 
 
 soul 
 In bright, brief vision sees the glory of its goal. 
 
 * 
 
 Some angel, watchful, kind, 
 Stoops for the moment from his kindred band, 
 Reaches, through veil of sleep, a pitying hand, 
 And leads the Dreamer forth into a fairer land. 
 
 Such boon to me was given, 
 Thus to my sorrow came a sweet release ; 
 Sleep's magic touches gave to pain surcease; 
 And forth my spirit passed into transcendent 
 peace. 
 
 A city beautiful 
 
 Shone on my vision. Palaces of white 
 And gleaming marble, in a noonday light 
 Glittered along wide streets with pearly pave- 
 ments bright. 
 
 113 
 
114 LYRICS. 
 
 Amaranth and asphodel 
 Above each pillared door their blossoms 
 
 hung ; 
 
 From every mansion mystic music rung, 
 For Poesie was here the only voice and tongue. 
 
 High in the city's midst 
 Arose a Temple, as the sunset bright; 
 Of flame-like splendor, dazzling to the 
 
 sight, 
 Arch, column, altar glowed with an interior light. 
 
 " This is the shrine of song," 
 A voice beside me uttered. " This her home, 
 Her chosen dwelling. Hither none may 
 
 come 
 
 But her beloved, her own. Fame's worshippers 
 are dumb 
 
 " Forth from her temple flows 
 Perpetual inspiration. Glorious themes 
 Break on the vision in ecstatic srleams. 
 
 \^ 
 
 Embodied here the bard beholds his rarest 
 dreams. 
 
 " Hither the minstrels throng 
 
 O 
 
 The masters wearing laurels centuries old, 
 
A DREAMLAND CITY. 115 
 
 Bards who the harp-strings smote with fingers 
 
 bold, 
 
 And they whose softer lays with faltering lips 
 were told. 
 
 "Nor they alone whose brows 
 On earth the victor's sparkling wreath have 
 
 worn, 
 These, too whom Fate of every bliss hath 
 
 shorn, 
 
 Save of the matchless boon that they were 
 singers born." 
 
 Even as he spoke there rolled 
 From out that inner shrine a tide of song. 
 Each outer voice the anthem bore along ; 
 The angel at my side responded full and strong. 
 
 " This is, indeed, my home ! ' 
 I cried. " Here every grief I may forget ; 
 Here even for me are peace and rapture met." 
 My guide, in tender voice replied, " Not yet." 
 
 The dream was at an end. 
 Yet in its light I walked through many days, 
 Seeing no darkness in them, for my gaze 
 Illumined once, still burned with the celestial rays. 
 
116 LYRICS. 
 
 Now singing as I go, 
 Little I heed although the path is long ; 
 Light from above hath made my spirit 
 
 strong, 
 It is enough to be the humblest child of Song. 
 
 And I will be content 
 
 To love her for herself ; with homage sweet 
 To sing unheard, unanswered at her feet, 
 Till in some other life I make my song complete. 
 
RECOMPENSE. 
 
 GRIEVE not, beloved, that in such narrow space 
 Your hopes must still their sparkling plumage 
 
 hide, 
 
 Brooding unseen : while others sing and soar, 
 That you alone go in and out no more. 
 Write on the threshold of this prison place 
 Eternity is wide! 
 
 Sigli not that years unanswering pass away, 
 And life seems all a mockery and a wrong : 
 The morning and the evening swiftly blend ; 
 Soon as the sorrow and the silence end, 
 A thousand years shall be as yesterday 
 Eternity is long! 
 
SONG PHANTOMS. 
 
 THEY are flitting all about us, 
 Fairy forms and faces fair, 
 Glancing wings of white and silver, 
 Spirits not of earth nor air. 
 Phantoms of the songs unsung, 
 Of unuttered minstrelsy, 
 In the noon and in the night 
 Still they call to thee and me, 
 
 "Follow! follow! 
 " And the song thine own shall be ! " 
 
 In the rosy morning sunlight 
 
 Now behold ! thy float and gleam, 
 Yet shalt thou perceive them nearer 
 In the twilight's dusk and dream. 
 Softer than all spoken words 
 Then their elfin voices ring, 
 Sweeter than all chanted hymns 
 As they vanish, still they sing 
 
 "Follow! follow! 
 Catch the song upon the wing !'' 
 
 118 
 
SONG PHANTOMS. 119 
 
 Not a brooklet down the valley 
 
 All unhaunted rambles on, 
 With its limpid wave are blended 
 
 Sacred drops from Helicon. 
 
 And the mountains as they burn 
 
 In the sunset's fiery gold, 
 
 Shine with the mysterious light 
 
 That Parnassus wore of old. 
 "Follow! follow! 
 And the Muses' shrine behold." 
 
 Happy nymph and hapless Echo 
 
 Haunt the wood with ceaseless tone, 
 
 Other flowers than famed Narcissus 
 Veil a beauty not their own. 
 Sighing from the forest bough 
 Smiling o'er the rainbow bar, 
 Beckoning from the white sea-foam 
 Whispering from the vesper star 
 " Follow ! follow ! 
 
 Bring the spoils of song from far ! '" 
 
 Oft o'ercome by their enchantment 
 
 We arise and hasten on, 
 Follow far through vale and highland 
 
 Till the witching sprite is won. 
 
 Ah ! at touch of mortal hand 
 
120 LYRICS. 
 
 See the rainbow plumage fade ! 
 That we sought with rapture sweet 
 Fails us when our quest is stayed. ' 
 
 Far we follow, 
 And we only reach the shade. 
 
 Yet with tireless, glad devotion 
 
 We go on with eager feet, 
 For the path is ever starward, 
 And the wayside bloom is sweet. 
 Though we gain but broken not 
 Of the hidden minstrelsy, 
 Yet we breathe diviner air, 
 Heavenly heights beyond we see. 
 
 We will follow ! 
 Ours at last the song shall be ! 
 
UP THE RIVER. 
 
 THE barge at sunset left the shore 
 
 With clanging band and banner flying, 
 Far out at sea we gazed once more, 
 
 The dim, blue line of sky descrying; 
 Then as we floated up the bay, 
 We idly watched the sparkling ray 
 Which on the brightening waters lay, 
 A golden sky, a golden river. 
 
 How eerie-like the summer night 
 
 Descends to greet the kindred deep ! 
 
 Her garments shed a magic light 
 
 As o'er the rippling wave they sweep. 
 
 The golden hour of sunset past, 
 
 The clouds of amber fading fast, 
 
 o / 
 
 Grown softer, darker, see at last 
 A violet sky, a violet river ! 
 
 As mists of evening gather dark, 
 
 Diana shows her silver bow, 
 And now each swift or anchored bark 
 
 Is mirrored iu the deep below. 
 
 121 
 
122 LYRICS. 
 
 We know not in their ghostly mien 
 Those dim, white sails that skyward lean; 
 Real and unreal they hang between 
 
 A shadowy sky and shadowy river. 
 
 The wind is down, the tide runs low, 
 The barge creeps up the current slowly, 
 
 The banks more steep and craggy grow, 
 Or darken into woodlands lowly; 
 
 And surely yonder peerless star 
 
 Shows where the gates of dreamland are ! 
 
 The pathway brightens near and far 
 
 In sparkling sky and sparkling river. 
 
 And now what lights are those that gleam 
 
 From yonder heights with beckoning ray? 
 Has Norembega's wizard beam 
 
 Shone forth to mock our homeward wr.y ? 
 O no ! the lights burn true and fair, 
 The " welcome home " awaits us there 
 Play out, gay band, your sweetest air ! 
 Good night to starry sky and river ! 
 
HAIL AND FAREWELL, 
 i. 
 
 BLOOM, rosy hours, from amber dawn unfold- 
 ing 
 
 To noon's imperial splendor, to twilight's 
 violet gloom, 
 
 All the lost sweetness of forgotten summers 
 
 O 
 
 Lives once again in your intense perfume. 
 
 Sing, joyous birds ! to dreaming sky and 
 
 river, 
 Unto the waiting winds a soul melodious 
 
 give ; 
 Till every heart and voice awakes inspired to 
 
 echo 
 
 Your highest note of rapture "how sweet 
 it is to live ! ' 
 
 n. 
 
 Fade, summer day! unbind thy glowing gar- 
 land, 
 
 Look from the gate of sunset and smile on 
 earth once more ; 
 
 123 
 
124 LYRICS. 
 
 Fade and farewell ; so tranquil be thy slumber, 
 The angel stars shall hasten forth thy beauty 
 to adore. 
 
 Ebb, rapid tide ! the dying day reflecting, 
 Flow fast, ye golden billows, your ocean 
 heaven is nio;h, 
 
 O * 
 
 Melt cloud and wave, in grander deeps dis- 
 solving, 
 
 And tell to the departing soul " how blest 
 it is to die ! " 
 
A SEASIDE PICTURE. 
 
 A BROAD, bright bay whose tossing waves 
 So sparkle in the sunlight's glare, 
 They seem the stolen gems to wear 
 
 Of all the nymphs in ocean's caves ; 
 
 The foreground rich in woodland shore 
 Of odorous cedar, moss grown pine, 
 With boughs of lighter green that twine 
 
 o o o 
 
 And bower the velvet pathways o'er. 
 
 The distance an enchanting range 
 
 Of island mountains, height on height, 
 Where mists of morn and glooms of niojht 
 
 O O 
 
 Have wrought a coloring rich and strange, 
 
 A vanishing and mystic hue 
 
 Of blended green and violet dyes, 
 And over all such sapphire skies 
 
 As Titian's pencil never knew. 
 
 Such is the picture I behold, 
 
 And still in every changing light 
 
 125 
 
126 LTEICS. 
 
 Some hidden beauty steals in sight,- 
 A cloud, a shade, a glint of gold. 
 
 You ask upon what gallery's wall 
 Is this midsummer radiance hung? 
 Its name was never said nor suns; 
 
 o * 
 
 A cottage window frames it all ! 
 
ISIS. 
 
 Low at her feet I watch and dream, 
 She will not lift her veil ; 
 
 I dimly see a brow sublime 
 And features grand and pale, 
 
 And feel a mighty heart replies 
 
 To all my rapture, or my sighs. 
 
 She is so near her breathing falls 
 
 On my attentive ear, 
 She is so far the twilight stars 
 
 O 
 
 Shine through her mantle clear ; 
 As silent as the grave may be, 
 And yet the soul of melody! 
 
 The lotus trembling on her brow 
 
 Exhales divine perfume, 
 The mystic splendor of her smile 
 
 Pervades my narrow gloom. 
 The dearth of solitary hours 
 She answers with a thousand flowers. 
 
 127 
 
128 LYKICS. 
 
 Oppressed with haunting, hindering cares 
 
 My heart rebels at fate. 
 She stoops to me, and lo ! I share 
 
 Her own imperial state. 
 I glide without my prison bars 
 And walk with her the path of stars ! 
 
 Forever sorrowful in death, 
 
 Forever glad in birth, 
 Her face the glory of the skies, 
 
 Her steps the bloom of earth 
 As Nature's self, tho fallen, the free, 
 O Isis, I interpret thee ! 
 
LOTUS-EATING. 
 
 THESE perfect days were never meant 
 
 For toil of hand or brain, 
 But for such measureless content 
 
 As heeds no loss nor gain ; 
 Close held to Nature's flowery breast 
 In deep midsummer rest. 
 
 Within this woodland shade I feel 
 
 The life of wind and tree ; 
 Soft odors, tremulous boughs reveal 
 
 Untutored ecstasy ; 
 The wild bird's drowsy warble seems 
 My own voice heard in dreams ! 
 
 And yonder azure mountain brow 
 
 Against the opal sky, 
 The river's cool, melodious flow, 
 
 The pine-tree's pensive sigh, 
 Each utters forth mv inmost mood 
 
 / 
 
 Of blissful solitude. 
 
 129 
 
130 LYRICS. 
 
 That ever daring deeds were done, 
 
 Or fiery flags unfurled, 
 Is like a tale of glory won 
 
 In some primeval world, 
 Where under skies of angry hue 
 Not yet the lotus grew ! 
 
 O world, to-day in vain you hold 
 The glittering branch of palm ; 
 
 The lotus hath a flower of gold, 
 A fruit of heavenly balm, 
 
 And underneath the greenwood tree 
 
 Are flower and fruit for me. 
 
A SUNSET AT SEAL POINT COTTAGE. 
 
 FROM the gray rocks that walled the beach 
 
 We watched the sinking sun, 
 Till as the last cloud curtain rolled 
 Across his drooping crown of gold, 
 
 We said " The day is done." 
 
 The gateway of the West was closed, 
 
 The King was seen no more; 
 And in the pensive even-glow 
 We strayed with tranquil step and slow 
 
 Along the grassy shore. 
 
 But as we gazed, the Eastern sky 
 
 Was lighted up anew : 
 Long bars of gleaming, crystal green 
 Across the heavens a dazzling sheen 
 
 Of sudden splendor threw. 
 
 The waves along the wide-stretched bay 
 Awoke as if from sleep, 
 
 131 
 
132 L TRIGS. 
 
 And trembling in a strange delight, 
 
 Repelled the coming gloom of night 
 
 And drank the radiance deep.* 
 
 Then purple banners richly wrought 
 
 With many a golden sign, 
 Waved glorious o'er the heavenly plain, 
 And all the billows shone a^ain 
 
 O 
 
 With blazonry divine. 
 
 And ever as a brighter hue 
 
 Illumed the sky and flood, 
 The mountains on the further shore, 
 A darker, dreamier aspect wore, 
 
 And with us watching stood. 
 
 Still flushed the deepening tints, and now 
 
 A lurid lustre came, 
 And as with sacrificial fire 
 The orient burned with splendors dire, 
 
 The sea with tossing flame ! 
 
 And once again a wondrous change 
 
 For over all the skies 
 Swift fading as the night came down, 
 Were leagues of roses, brightly blown, 
 
 Of pure, celestial dyes ! 
 
SUNSET AT SEAL POINT COTTAGE. 133 
 
 Fast as they bloomed in heaven they she 
 
 Their petals on the sea ! 
 Till in a rosy wave of light 
 They vanished from our raptured sight, 
 
 A twilight mystery. 
 
 Homeward beneath the whispering trees 
 We walked and spoke no word ; 
 
 For we had seen with living eyes, 
 
 On sunset sea and sunset skies, 
 The glory of the Lord. 
 
BLACK-CAP MOUNTAIN. 
 
 BY winding paths, through woods of pine 
 Deep fringed with fragrant fern and vine, 
 
 Old mosses gray beneath our feet, 
 Wild, forest odors strong and sweet, 
 
 Brief spaces where a golden rain 
 Of sunshine sifts, and here again 
 
 Intenser glooms of cliff and tree 
 Whence some lone bird calls plaintively, 
 
 Thus on we move, as in a dream, 
 Nor know which pleasure is supreme, 
 
 Till on the mountain's opening height 
 All senses lose themselves in sight ! 
 
 Fair, fair the picture we behold ! 
 A long, dim range of mountains rolled 
 
 134 
 
^LACK-CAP MOUNTAIN 135 
 
 Against the soft October sky, 
 
 Seem wrapped in contemplation hign . 
 
 Far-reaching forests stretch below, 
 Resplendent with autumnal glow 
 
 Of fiery colors, and amid 
 
 These leagues of shade, bright waters hid, 
 
 Clear, lucid lakes that sparkling rest 
 Like pearls on Nature's drowsy ' >reast. 
 
 We almost hear the ripples break 
 On Chimo's lily-spangled lake, 
 
 While far off, like a cloud at rest, 
 We know Katahdin's kingly crest. 
 
 The giant shadows bending low 
 With soft, slow footfall come and go, 
 
 Their cool, gray garments trailing wide 
 Along each billowy mountain side. 
 
 No hint of dust or toil to mar 
 The living picture shows so far ; 
 
136 LYRICS. 
 
 Though long we gaze, the vision grows 
 In perfect beauty and repose. 
 
 O when from some sublimer height 
 These earthly scenes are full in sight, 
 
 May all our past transfigured lie 
 So far, so fair, in memory's eye, 
 
 The beauty and the bliss alone 
 Still visible, and still our own. 
 
RIVERSIDE. 
 
 IN the house which is my own, 
 Though no living eye can read 
 The invisible title deed 
 
 Which makes it mine alone, 
 
 In the room where my heart and I 
 In still communion sit, 
 Though as in and out we flit 
 
 None heed us passing by, 
 
 I look from the windows three, 
 And pictures manifold 
 Of the new and of the old 
 
 With tireless gaze I see. 
 
 The river, near and deep, 
 
 With such endless music flows 
 That into my thought it grows, 
 
 And I hear it in my sleep. 
 
 The trees that o'er it bend, 
 Though rugged, old, and gray, 
 
 137 
 
138 LYRICS. 
 
 I have talked with day by day, 
 With each as with a friend. 
 
 And yonder far-off range 
 Of hills have said to me 
 In each change of destiny, 
 
 " Behold ! we never change." 
 
 I have lifted up mine eyes 
 And drank their deep repose ; 
 I have shared the calm which flows 
 
 Both from the earth and skies. 
 
 From this window I have seen 
 Sunsets of pomp untold, 
 Islands of rose uprolled 
 
 From lakes of luminous sheen. 
 
 And after the sunset, far 
 In the blue halls of the sky 
 I have seen the young moon lie 
 
 In her cradle rocked by a star. 
 
 Again and oft again 
 
 From yonder window wide, 
 I have seen her like a bride 
 
 Walk heaven's resplendent plain- 
 
RIVERSIDE. 139 
 
 Then the river in its dream 
 
 Was changed to a bridge of light, 
 And plume and banner white 
 
 Passed over its brilliant beam. 
 
 All this may strangers see ; 
 
 Yet other sights remain, 
 
 Which shall be sought in vain, 
 For they only come to me. 
 
 The Indian's evening blaze 
 
 Beneath yon broad armed pine, 
 For me alone shall shine 
 
 Out of remembered days. 
 
 The true friend's signal light 
 From the home across the way. 
 Shall burn to life's last day, 
 
 Steadfast and strong and bright. 
 
 And if I look no more 
 
 At these pictures far and near, 
 
 Within are scenes as dear, 
 And I view them o'er and o'er. 
 
 For my shadow-sister stands 
 
 In the door, and her sweet, dead eyes 
 
140 LYRICS. 
 
 Are filled with a sad surprise 
 As she touches me with her hands. 
 
 " Here I was wont to come," 
 
 She sighs ; " in the nights so still 
 I have wandered here at will : 
 
 Oh, is not this thy home ? " 
 
 And phantom children glide 
 Across the fireside glow; 
 Their pale lips murmur low, 
 
 "Here we were born, and died." 
 
 Nearer the voices come, 
 The faces grow more fair ; 
 
 The loved and lost are there, 
 For to them it is my home. 
 
 O phantoms pass not by ! 
 O river and moaning trees, 
 My answer is on the breeze, 
 
 In the gloaming " Here am I ! " 
 
 None knows as I have known 
 The house by the river side, 
 Nor years nor space divide 
 
 The spirit from its own. 
 
TO BEETHOVEN. 
 
 I HEAR the voice of thy great, pensive soul, 
 
 In the deep shadow of this summer night, 
 While far sea waves accordant anthems roll 
 
 From their unfathomed fountains of delight. 
 I hear thy voice and all my heart is still ; 
 
 Hushed in the presence of thy gift divine, 
 I dream that notes from God's eternal hill, 
 
 From harps that in His awful presence shine, 
 Have floated from on hio-h 
 
 O 
 
 To sing with Night her vesper hymn of glory, 
 
 But while I listen, lo ! it passes by 
 And leaves me musing o'er thy mournful story. 
 
 Thou wast a High Priest of the human heart ! 
 
 Holy of Holies was unveiled to thee, 
 Which thou didst enter in and reverently 
 
 Make all its mysteries of thy theme a part. 
 All longings for the infinite good unknown, 
 
 And tears for broken idols left behind, 
 All hopes for buds of beauty yet unblown, 
 
 And deeper yearnings still in shadow shrined, 
 
 141 
 
142 LYRICS. 
 
 All the unspoken pain 
 
 Or gladness that within the spirit slumbers, 
 All that the Poet strives to reach in vain, 
 'T was thine to utter forth in perfect numbers. 
 
 Master of all the spirit's richest deeps ! 
 
 Of human nature's grandest, holiest part, 
 Blessed wast thou in uttering what the heart 
 
 From all the world in sacred stillness keeps! 
 O blessed is the soul where Genius lives ! 
 
 All suffering is a veiled joy to him ; 
 To his rich life all earthly anguish gives 
 
 A midnight glory, beautiful and dim. 
 Out from that midnight calm 
 
 O 
 
 Thy gifted spirit's voice serenely flowing, 
 
 Breathes o'er the world's heart like a golden 
 
 psalm, 
 Sweeter and sadder still forever growing. 
 
FROM ROME. 
 
 HERE lies a spray of maiden-hair, 
 Tossed over ocean's wintry foam, 
 
 A fairy fern, so light, so fair, 
 It grew, for me, in Rome ! 
 
 Day after day with sinking heart 
 I saw my summer treasures go, 
 
 The last bright leaves in flame depart, 
 The dead earth draped in snow. 
 
 While all unseen, unknow r n to me, 
 
 Italia's airs of balmy blue 
 This leaflet ripened tenderly, 
 
 And hid from heedless view. 
 
 No step but thine, Beloved, near 
 The fated loveliness might stray, 
 
 No eyes to me less true and dear, 
 Perceive the emerald spray. 
 
 And yesterday, while fierce and fast 
 Midwinter raged along the land, 
 
 143 
 
144 LYRICS. 
 
 Safe borne across the waves, at last 
 It lay within my hand. 
 
 O fairy token ! I can see 
 
 The ruin old and rich in fame, 
 
 Where late my friend remembered me, 
 And softly spoke my name. 
 
 The sculptured fountain's snowy fall, 
 The rustle of the olive leaves, 
 
 The stained and broken marble, all 
 My quickened sight perceives. 
 
 And more, far more, O friend of mine, 
 This dear Italian floweret brings, 
 
 It is a promise and a sign 
 Even of immortal things. 
 
 Thus all unseen, while earthly skies 
 Grow dark, and earthly summers flee, 
 
 In Heaven's own clime some glad surprise 
 Unfolds for thee and me. 
 
OBERAMMERGAU. 
 
 THE hamlet is in shadow, yet the light 
 
 Clings to the cross on yonder summit hoary, 
 And wide along the hillside seems to fall 
 
 A benediction and a vesper glory. 
 Surely some radiant Presence hovering there, 
 With shining arms uplifted, calls to prayer ! 
 And unseen choristers glide to and fro, 
 Under the lindens, when the sun is low. 
 
 Flame, mountain cross, in the departing day ! 
 
 Glow in the sunrise with a rosy splendor ! 
 An altar-fire to which the hills bow down, 
 
 And the hushed valleys meek devotion render. 
 The world grows cold with unbelief, but here 
 The Christ of Calvary is ever near, 
 And beautiful with a perpetual youth 
 Blooms simple Faith around immortal Truth. 
 
 145 
 
WHAT CHEER? 
 
 THE daylight is dying ; how weary and wan 
 
 It sinks to its sleep on the sea's purple breast ! 
 As its last robe of beauty is folded away, 
 One funeral star rises out of the west. 
 What cheer, prophet star, that with sweet, human 
 
 eye 
 
 Beamest down on this sad world so pityingly ? 
 Thou dost read all the mysteries of silence and 
 
 night, 
 
 And each shadow is changed in thy magical 
 light. 
 
 O hear ! 
 
 Did an angel answer, or was it the star 
 That wafted a voice through the silence afar? 
 " Good cheer, doubting spirit ! the red rose of 
 
 dawn 
 
 On the breast of the desolate midnight is born ; 
 Good cheer ! " 
 
 To the muffled music of wind and of rrJn 
 The dreary November is passing away. 
 
 140 
 
WHAT CHEEK? 147 
 
 There is gloom on the forest, the hill, and the 
 
 plain, 
 
 And wild ocean foams like a lion at bay. 
 Weary year, dying year, let it haste to the tomb, 
 All its beauty is vanished, its strength and its 
 
 bloom : 
 Who would keep the pale spectre a guest at his 
 
 hearth ? 
 But what cheer for the heart as it fades from the 
 
 earth ? 
 
 O hear ! 
 With its utterance low conies that voice from on 
 
 high, 
 
 Giving back to my sighing its blessed reply 
 " Good cheer ! a new life, a new year shall arise 
 And fill with its glory the earth and the skies ! 
 Good cheer ! r 
 
 Answer once more, O thou beautiful star ! 
 
 Chase the last doubt from my spirit away, 
 I too, like the year, must be gathered to dust, 
 
 My youth in its brightness shall fade like the 
 
 day. 
 
 Must my beautiful visions lie down with me ? 
 Must my hopes in the grave bear me company? 
 And all that I yearned for of glory and bloom, 
 Go out, like a lamp, in the chill of the tomb ? 
 
148 LYRICS. 
 
 O hear ! 
 
 Whether angel answered, or only a star, 
 Of joy and of promise the tidings are ! 
 " For thy feet there are paths which no mortal 
 
 hath trod, 
 For thy hope there is room in the gardens of God ! 
 
 Good cheer ! " 
 
A VIGIL. 
 
 ALL-SOULS' DAY ! Where have I heard or read 
 An old-time legend, sad and sweet, 
 
 That to-night return the remembered dead 
 And walk among us with shadowy feet? 
 
 The watcher heedeth no sight nor sound, 
 
 But till dawn is breaking they throng around. 
 
 Beloved ! thou hast been gone from me 
 A year and a day. I will watch to-night. 
 
 My door shall be left ajar for thee ; 
 
 I will brighten my fire and trim my light, 
 
 And musing softly on other days, 
 
 Vigil I '11 keep by the midnight blaze. 
 
 Are there untold joys in those realms above, 
 With whose meaning mortals may vainly cope ? 
 
 Blooms there a sweeter rose than love? 
 Sings there a happier bird than hope? 
 
 Was the waking all that thy dream foretold 
 
 Of palm and palace and gates of gold ? 
 
 149 
 
150 LYRICS. 
 
 Thou didst love me truly, I doubt it not. 
 
 To part was bitter though silent pain ; 
 In that far-off realm am I yet forgot? 
 
 Is mourning empty and memory vain ? 
 Hark ! was that a whisper, so soft, so near ? 
 It is but the sighing wind I hear. 
 
 How fair to me was thy fading face, 
 
 Touched with a tender and tranquil glow 
 
 Heaven had lent thee its promised grace 
 A coming rapture was on thy brow. 
 
 Thy smile ah ! what shines so within the door ? 
 
 Only the moonlight just touching the floor. 
 
 We were happy, love, in those summer days, 
 The days of sunshine so bright, so long, 
 
 Pleasant our walks by the flowery ways, 
 Sweet the communing by word and song. 
 
 Listen ! O melody come once again ! 
 
 All silent. I must have been dreaming, then. 
 
 I hear the wash of the troubled tide 
 
 As it breaks on the cold, unheeding shore, 
 
 The elm trees grieve by the river side, 
 
 And the murmuring pines reply "no more." 
 
 Low in the east lianas the star of dawn. 
 
 O 
 
 Has the angel visitant corne and gone? 
 
A VIGIL. 151 
 
 Surely one moment she stooped to see 
 The light on my hearth, and her glance was 
 kind. 
 
 Such presence veiled from our sight must be; 
 The dead are not faithless, though we are blind. 
 
 In the light of the same undying love 
 
 We watch below, and they watch above. 
 
INDIAN SUMMER. 
 
 WHEN the hunter's moon is waning, 
 
 And hangs like a crimson bow, 
 And the frosty fields of morning 
 
 Are white with a phantom snow ; 
 Who then is the beautiful spirit, 
 
 That wanders, smiles, and grieves 
 Along the desolate hill-sides, 
 
 And over the drifted leaves ? 
 
 She has strayed from the far-off dwelling 
 
 Of forgotten Indian braves, 
 And stolen wistfully earthward 
 
 Over the path of graves ; 
 She has left the cloudy gateway 
 
 Of the hunting-grounds ajar, 
 To follow the trail of the summer 
 
 Toward the morning star. 
 
 There 's a rustle of soft, slow footsteps, 
 
 The toss of a purple plume, 
 And the glimmer of golden arrows 
 
 Athwart the hazy gloom. 
 
 152 
 
INDIAN SUMMER. 153 
 
 'Tis the smoke of the happy wigwams 
 
 That reddens our wintry sky, 
 The scent of unfading forests 
 
 That is dreamily floating by. 
 
 O shadow sister of summer! 
 
 Astray from the world of dreams, 
 Thou wraith of the bloom departed, 
 
 Thou echo of springtide streams, 
 Thou moonlight and starlight vision 
 
 Of a day that will come no more, 
 Would that our love might win thee 
 
 To dwell on this stormy shore ! 
 
 But the roaming Indian goddess 
 
 Stays not for our tender sighs ; 
 She has heard the call of her hunters 
 
 Beyond the sunset skies ! 
 By her beaming arrows stricken 
 
 The last leaves fluttering fall, 
 With a sigh and a smile she has vanished, 
 
 And darkness is over all. 
 
BANGOR CENTENNIAL HYMN. 
 
 1760-1869. 
 
 GOD of our days ! Thy guiding power 
 
 Sustained the lonely pioneer 
 Who first, amid the forest shades, 
 
 His evening camp-fire kindled here. 
 To thee a welcome sacrifice, 
 Its smoke ascended to the skies. 
 
 God of the years ! As summers fled, 
 
 Within the wild, new homes were reared, 
 
 New gardens bloomed, new altars flamed, 
 And songs of praise the Sabbaths cheered, 
 
 Until the fair, young city stood 
 
 Gem of the eastern solitude. 
 
 God of the centuries ! To-day 
 
 A hundred years their tale have told, 
 
 And lingering in their solemn shade 
 We listen to the days of old. 
 
 To us how vast the centuries flight, 
 
 ^7 ' 
 
 To Thee as watches in the night. 
 
 154 
 
BANGOR CENTENNIAL HYMN. 155 
 
 God of eternity ! Thy hand 
 To nobler hills has beckoned on 
 
 The fathers, who by many toils 
 For us this pleasant dwelling won. 
 
 With them hereafter may we raise 
 
 Celestial cities to Thy praise ! 
 
WINTER OUR GUEST. 
 
 HE is come, the guest unbidden, 
 Guest unwelcome, sure to tarry. 
 While we lingered in the doorway, 
 Saying farewells fond and tender 
 To the dark-browed Indian summer, 
 Sunburned, beautiful enchantress, 
 While we watched her slow departure 
 With regretful, pensive feeling, 
 Lo ! a chariot rolling swiftly 
 Brought a traveller to our door ! 
 
 Stern old Winter ! See he enters 
 As if sure of right unquestioned, 
 Heeding not our gloomy faces, 
 Our half-uttered salutations ; 
 On the threshold waits a moment, 
 Doffs and shakes his cloak of ermino, 
 And the air is filled with downy 
 Flakes that fall in feathery flight. 
 
 Once within, with steady footsteps 
 To the very shrine and altar 
 
 156 
 
WINTER OUR GUEST. 157 
 
 Of our household he advances. 
 Underneath his shaggy forehead, 
 Grim and stern with many a wrinkle, 
 Gleam his eyes so cold and steely. 
 Closer dins: the little children 
 
 O 
 
 To our side, and look with timid 
 Glances on the strange intruder, 
 Shrinking from his icy hand. 
 
 Sometimes when the windows darken 
 With the clouds of snow descending, 
 When the wind escaped from prison, 
 Holds a revel with the snow-wraith, 
 Then the frown of some old viking 
 Darkens on his rugged features. 
 And as nearer, wilder, louder 
 Rolls the battle wave of tempest, 
 Fierce and fiercer grows his visage, 
 And in undertones he mutters 
 Of the storms of all the ages, 
 As he holds unseen communion 
 With the spirits of the air. 
 
 But he is not always sullen, 
 Brooding over thoughts revengeful ; 
 When the early sunlight glitters 
 On the snow-fields, heavy laden 
 
158 LYKICS. 
 
 With a magic, midnight harvest 
 When the trees which bare and ghastly 
 Bent before the evening tempest, 
 In the morning stand transfigured 
 Into lovely flowering almonds, 
 Every branch a mass of blossom 
 White as down and pure as crystal, 
 Then the aged brow is softened, 
 And the voice prophetic utte:'3 
 Promise of a fruitful burden 
 To the glistening fields and boughs. 
 
 And a<xain when bells are chiming 
 
 o o 
 
 In the moonlight and the starlight 
 Of the saintly Christmas even, 
 When the lights in every window 
 Show sweet faces bright with pleasure, - 
 All the brightness is reflected 
 In his eves, and fearless finders 
 
 / O 
 
 Twine his hoary locks with holly. 
 Then beneath the lighted fir-tree, 
 Brilliant with a fairy fruitage, 
 Sits he like a king, dispensing 
 Royal gifts with royal smiles. 
 
 Long he tarries, but he listens 
 When the days are growing longer, 
 
WINTER OUR GUEST. 159 
 
 Listens till he hears the laughter, 
 Rippling in the sunny distance, 
 Of the winsome April maiden. 
 As we spring up in our gladness 
 Echoing back her sonsj of welcome, 
 
 O O * 
 
 He will gaze into our faces 
 As if fain awhile to linger. 
 
 <j 
 
 But as nearer comes the dancing, 
 Mirthful, musical young goddess, 
 With the scent of early violets 
 Shed from her sun-lighted tresses, 
 He will totter to the threshold, 
 Looking, lingering, O so wistful ! 
 Till with late, repentant kindness, 
 As he sadly is departing, 
 We will touch his cold, wan fingers, 
 Saying softly " Friend, farewell ! " 
 
IMMORTELLES. 
 HERE bloom no flowers. The river glides 
 
 O 
 
 Beneath the shade of sombre pines, 
 The bank is rich with purpling vines 
 That lean to watch the changing tides. 
 But garden beds and walks for me 
 Have lost their olden witchery, 
 Since, trusting they would spring again 
 Beneath the sunshine and the rain, 
 I planted deep my Immortelles. 
 
 And that was long ago. They sleep 
 Unmindful of caressing dews, 
 Of all the kindred blossom hues 
 That round their place of slumber creep. 
 The west-wind sighs amid the leaves, 
 The wild-bird answering, sweetly grieves, 
 They hear nor heed ; alike unstirred 
 By tenderest voice of wind or bird, 
 
 They sleep, my spotless Immortelles. 
 
 At times when down the darkened sky 
 Rushes the storm on angry wing, 
 
 160 
 
IMMORTELLES. 161 
 
 When all the leaves are shuddering 
 And the torn blossoms sob and sigh, 
 I think of them, in earth's fond breast 
 Held in such still and perfect rest, 
 And I am comforted to know 
 O'er them no blighting wind can blow, 
 No ruin reach my Immortelles ! 
 
 The days are long, but calm and strong 
 Will Love's own presence on them wait. 
 And fear no league with Death nor Fate. 
 Sure is the joy though tarrying long. 
 Each year new promise seems to bring, 
 New signals of eternal spring. 
 Perhaps ere Summer fades my eyes 
 Will see my flowers of Paradise 
 Will look upon my Immortelles. 
 
 The hour will come ; a twilight gloom, 
 With flowers upon the pillow laid 
 By hands that tremble, half-afraid 
 Of the strange stillness in my room. 
 O friends, fear not ! My eyes will be 
 No longer hoi den. I shall see 
 In all their passion of perfume, 
 In all their brilliancy of bloom, 
 
 My own, my deathless Immortelles. 
 
CONSOLATION. 
 
 NATURE is not pitiless ! 
 
 When upon some sudden woe 
 Mornings glitter, sunsets glow 
 
 As in glad unconsciousness, 
 
 When upon our dead delight 
 
 Sweet winds play and roses bloom, 
 And we seem to have no room 
 
 For our sorrow, and no right 
 
 Then, ah ! then could we but know 
 From what wealth of bliss eternal 
 Nature's joyance, fresh and vernal, 
 
 Overflows upon our woe, 
 
 From what opulence of light 
 
 She shines down upon our grief, 
 Till in glimpses comes relief 
 
 As the star-beams to the night, 
 
 From all doubting we should cease, 
 Knowing that our faltering glance 
 
 c^ ^ 
 
 162 
 
CONSOLATION. 163 
 
 Faints and falls in the expanse 
 Of a universe of peace. 
 
 Mother Nature, fair and grand, 
 
 Mocks us not, but round us throwing 
 Her warm arms, with love o'erflowing 
 
 Bids us wait and understand. 
 
 Then we see that air and sky 
 
 Throb with beauteous, boundless life, 
 Winds and woods and waves are rife 
 
 With unfailing melody. 
 
 Every discord of to-day, 
 
 Ocean's moan or tempest's jar, 
 Ere it can the chorus mar, 
 
 Drowned in music dies away. 
 
 And we dimly feel and know 
 
 Something deep within keeps time 
 To the wonderful glad rhyme 
 
 Of the ages as they flow. 
 
 Something mightier than pain, 
 Heaven's own echo in the heart, 
 Bids us rise and take our part 
 
 In the song of life again. 
 
164 LYRICS. 
 
 Therefore Nature, loving Sage, 
 
 Smiles the brighter when we weep, 
 Knowing that we can but keep 
 
 Our eternal heritage. 
 
SONNETS. 
 
 165 
 

 SONNETS. 
 
 ORIENT TO OCCIDENT. 
 
 MINE is the elder right, the ancient throne, 
 The purple of the centuries is mine ! 
 The birthplace of the race, its earliest shrine 
 
 Was to my ever blooming gardens known. 
 
 Upon my dewy sunrise slopes has grown 
 
 The tree of Knowledge, of whose fruit divine 
 Have feasted bard and sage, a noble line, 
 
 The fountains of all history are my own. 
 
 My fields are white with harvests of brave deeds 
 And rich with blood of heroes, and the air 
 Is sweet with songs of victory heard afar ; 
 
 Mine are the elder gods, the cradle creeds 
 
 Of the wild north, the fervent south, and fair 
 On my horizon rose the Bethlehem Star. 
 
 167 
 
OCCIDENT TO ORIENT. 
 
 WEAK thy proud honors still, imperial East, 
 Thou warrior of the ages ! but for me 
 A new day dawns, a fairer history 
 
 Than ever graced the scroll of seer or priest ; 
 
 For Liberty from ancient thrall released 
 Calls to the nations over land and sea, 
 To the oppressed who should be strong and 
 free, 
 
 To sit with her at a perpetual feast. 
 
 My poets sing no more of battling foes, 
 But in this true Valhalla of the West 
 Shall god-like wisdom, arts divine, increase ; 
 
 And here the star that on Judea rose, 
 
 Shall light the long-sought gardens of the 
 
 Blest, 
 The home of nations and the throne of Peace. 
 
 168 
 
THE SEVEN DAYS. 
 I. 
 
 DAY OF THE MOON. 
 
 DIANA, sister of the sun, thy ray 
 
 Governs these opening hours. The world is 
 
 wide; 
 
 We know not what new evil may betide 
 This six days' journey ; by what unknown 
 
 way 
 
 We come at last unto the royal day 
 Of prophecy and promise. O preside, 
 Propitious, and our doubting footsteps guide 
 Onward and sunward. Long in shadows gray 
 We have but slumbered ; hidden from our 
 
 view 
 
 Knowledge and wisdom in unfruitful night. 
 But if upon the dawn's unfolding blue 
 
 Thy hand to-day our destiny must write, 
 Once more our outer, inner life renew 
 
 With Heaven's first utterance, "Let there be 
 light." 
 
 169 
 
170 SONNETS. 
 
 II. 
 
 DAY OF THE WAR-GOD. 
 
 FEAR not, O soul, to-day ! the kingly Mars 
 Leads on the hours, a brave and warlike train, 
 Fire in his glance and splendor in his reign, 
 From the first glitter through the sunrise bars 
 Till his red banner flames amono- the stars. 
 
 C-> 
 
 Thou, too, go forth, and fully armed maintain 
 Duty and right : the hero is not slain, 
 
 Though pierced and wounded in a hundred 
 wars. 
 
 For daring deeds are deathless. He alone 
 Is victor, who stays not for any doom 
 
 Foreshadowed ; utters neither sigh nor moan, 
 Death-stricken, but right onward, his fair plume 
 Scorched in the battle-flame, through smoke 
 
 7 C3 
 
 and gloom 
 Strikes for the right, nor counts his life his own. 
 
 III. 
 
 DAY OF ODIN. 
 
 The mighty Odin rides abroad, and earth 
 
 Trembles and echoes back his ghostly sigh, 
 More deep than thought, more sad than memory. 
 
 The very birds sing low in timid mirth, 
 
THE SEVEN DAYS. 171 
 
 For in the forest sudden gusts have birth, 
 And harsh against the pale appealing sky 
 Ascends his ravens' melancholy cry. 
 Peace be with Odin ! Of his ancient worth 
 Many and grand the tales we will repeat, 
 For sacred memories to these hours belong. 
 
 O 
 
 But yesterday with reckless speed our feet 
 Dared the bold height. With spirit no less 
 strong 
 
 To-day step softly. After battle's heat 
 
 Warriors and wars are only themes for song. 
 
 IV. 
 
 DAY OF THOR. 
 
 White-robed, white-crowned, and borne by steeds 
 snow-white, 
 
 The Thunderer rolls along the echoing skies. 
 
 No hour is this to dream of past emprise, 
 Or with old runes the memory to delight. 
 The mountain tops with prophet beams are 
 bright, 
 
 The eagle soars aloft with jubilant cries 
 
 Thou, too, unto the hills lift up thine eyes, 
 To some new throne these sacred signs invite. 
 Learn thy own strength ; and if some secret sense 
 
 Of power untried pervades thy low estate, 
 
172 SONNETS. 
 
 Bend thy soul's purest, best intelligence 
 To seek the mastery of time and fate. 
 
 Courage and deathless hope and toil intense 
 Are the crown-jewels of the truly great. 
 
 V. 
 
 DAY OF LOVE AND PLEASURE. 
 
 In the world garden, walled with living green, 
 The foam-born goddess of delight to-day 
 Plucks glorious blossoms for her own array. 
 Poppies and myrtle in her wreath are seen, 
 And roses, bending o'er her brow serene, 
 Blush to perceive she is more fair than they. 
 Sweet grasses at her feet their odors lay, 
 And doves, low warbling, hover o'er their 
 
 queen. 
 In this brief life shall ever toil and care 
 
 Hold fast our wishes? Earth's bewildering 
 
 bowers, 
 Her streams melodious and her woodlands 
 
 fair, 
 
 Are palaces for gods. The world is ours ! 
 Beauty and love our birthright, we will 
 
 share 
 
 The sunshine and the singing and the 
 flowers. 
 
THE SEVEN DAYS. 173 
 
 VI. 
 
 DAT OF SATTJKN. 
 
 Though bright with jewels, and with garlands 
 dressed, 
 
 The bloom decays, the world is growing old. 
 
 Lost are the days when peaceful Saturn told 
 The arts to men, and cheered their toil or rest 
 With eloquence divine. The Olympian guest 
 
 Took with him in his flight the age of gold. 
 
 Westward through myriad centuries has rolled 
 The ceaseless pilgrimage, the hopeless quest 
 For the true Fatherland. Through weary years 
 
 What if some rainbow glory spans the gloom, 
 Some strong, sweet utterance the wayside cheers, 
 
 Or gladness opens like a rose in bloom? 
 Step after step the fatal moment nears, 
 
 Earth for new graves is ever making room. 
 
 VII. 
 
 DAY OF THE SUN. 
 
 Thou glorious Sun ! illumining the blue 
 
 Highway of Heaven ! to thy triumphant rays 
 The earth her shadow yields, the hill-tops 
 blaze, 
 
 Up lifts the mist, up floats the morning dew. 
 
174 SONNETS. 
 
 Old things Lre passed away, the world is new ! 
 
 Labor is changed to rest, and rest to praise ! 
 
 Past are the weary heights, the stormy days,- 
 The eternal future breaks upon our view. 
 Last eve we lingered, uttering our farewe 1 
 
 But lo! One met us in the early light 
 Of this divinest morn. The tale He tells 
 
 Transfigures life and opens Heaven to sight. 
 Bring altar flowers ! lilies and asphodels ! 
 
 Sing jubilates ! There is no more night. 
 
LONGFELLOW. 
 
 WHITHER, beloved spirit, art them fled ? 
 
 Couldst thou not linger with thine own, at least 
 Till the glad singing at thy birthday feast 
 
 Had died away ? Still fresh upon thy head 
 
 Tli3 perfume of love's latest wreath is shed. 
 Thy new year's daybreak reddens in the east, 
 The warm air throbs with music not yet 
 ceased 
 
 Why stand the minstrels hushed around thy bed ? 
 
 Falls thy own whisper from the fields divine 
 "There is no death !" The an^el Israfil, 
 
 O 
 
 Flashing swift splendor on our startled gaze, 
 But crowned and led thee home. No word nor 
 
 sign 
 
 We need to know thou art a poet still, 
 And sweeter for thy songs are heaven's high- 
 ways. 
 
 175 
 
VICTORIA. 
 
 THE sovereign lady of dominions grand, 
 Flower of a chivalrous and noble age, 
 Hers is to-day a matchless heritage. 
 
 The sceptre held within her gentle hand 
 
 Shines with unsullied beam ; a starry band 
 Of bards and sages write her history's page, 
 While boundless love and loyalty presage 
 
 Joy to her banners upon sea and land. 
 
 But we, in this free land across the sea, 
 Find in her fair and gracious womanhood 
 A higher royalty. No more alone 
 
 Can England claim her ; she has risen to be 
 Queen among women. Simply great and good, 
 In the world's heart Victoria has her throne. 
 
 176 
 
TO THE RAINBOW. 
 
 IRIS, bringing balm for summer's tears, 
 
 So lightly stepping down thy bridge of rose, 
 I know not why my spirit drinks repose 
 
 Soon as thy footfall the horizon nears. 
 
 Spell-bound I watch the crimson shaded piers, 
 As arch by arch the blooming pathway grows, 
 And where the warmest tint of color shows, 
 
 1 trace thy trailing garment. Sighs and fears 
 Are vanished ; in a long and ardent gaze 
 
 Thy steps I follow down the heavenly slope. 
 Iris ! be mine thy message ! Let thy rays 
 Write out how I with destiny may cope. 
 Ah ! spanned with light would be all coming 
 
 days, 
 
 Could I but read thy oracle of hope. 
 
 177 
 
THE MAGIC FLUTE. 
 
 A FLUTE upon the water ! and I lean 
 
 At the broad window in the moonlight clear, 
 
 O ' 
 
 That low, wild, rippling melody to hear. 
 A white batteau with dripping oar is seen 
 Skimming the moonbeam path of silver sheen, 
 
 And now a shadow into shadows drear 
 
 It vanishes, yet to my longing ear 
 The melody floats back, a sound serene 
 Endowed by night with sweetness not its own. 
 
 O happy player ! drifting down the tide, 
 Half of thy music's charm thou hast not known ; 
 
 With me alone its magic shall abide 
 For fairy lips with thine the strain have blown, 
 
 And love's lost whisper in the echo sighed ! 
 
 178 
 
MIDNIGHT. 
 
 AT midnight I behold, far past her prime, 
 The pallid moon slow rising in the sky, 
 A queen discrowned, her pomp and pride past 
 
 by, 
 
 Pacing a joyless palace ; yet sublime 
 In desolation, mindful of the time 
 
 When reigned full-orbed her loveliness on 
 
 high, 
 
 And planets paled before her majesty. 
 Now dumb and dread the hour ; not even a 
 
 chime 
 
 Of elfin music. Flower and leaf and bough 
 Dream in the marble moonlight. Cold and 
 bright 
 
 O 
 
 The river sleeps, its tide at flood, and slow 
 Soft clouds like phantoms, gliding into sight 
 
 Linger beneath the stars' funereal glow. 
 
 The day is dead thou art its spectre, Night ! 
 
 179 
 
DAYBREAK. 
 
 WHEX out of heaven steals the first ray of dawn 
 And wanders, lost, in labyrinths of night, 
 The wakeful robin notes with quickened sight 
 
 The half-affrio-hted herald of the morn. 
 
 C-J 
 
 Softly he trills to cheer the beam forlorn, 
 And others hear the signal, until bright 
 Approach the bolder ranks of orient light, 
 
 And night is of its shadowy terror shorn. 
 
 Withdraw, O Hesper ! silver-mantled priest! 
 And quench with haste thy taper's dying ray: 
 
 For now with sudden hush the birds have ceased, 
 Rich banners float o'er the horizon gray, 
 
 And past his fire-plumed escort, in the east 
 Rides the anointed King, Imperial Day ! 
 
 180 
 
FRIENDSHIP. 
 
 IT matters not if no more face to face 
 
 I look on thee, my friend. Though sweet 
 indeed 
 
 To clasp thy hand in mine, there is no need ; 
 Our perfect friendship knows no time nor place. 
 Heart reaches heart across unmeasured space, 
 
 Soul touches soul from ruder contact freed ; 
 
 Ours is one hope, one life-work and one creed, 
 One destiny the flying moments trace. 
 The shadow of thy grief cannot depart 
 
 Till it is fallen on me : thv new delight 
 
 W 1 V? 
 
 Flashes swift radiance over land and sea. 
 Such friendship is an Eden for the heart, 
 In which it arrows to blossom without blight, 
 
 G ^j 7 
 
 Gives itself wholly and is wholly free. 
 
 181 
 
THE FLOWER PAINTER. 
 
 I. 
 
 SHE learned the dearest haunts in vale and wild 
 Of summer's fairy nurslings. In her eyes 
 The opening buds beheld with glad surprise 
 Such loving recognition, that they smiled 
 Ecstatic welcome. Nature pleased and mild 
 Guided her hand to seek the precious dyes 
 Kept hidden since the loss of Paradise, 
 And with pure sense and spirit undefiled 
 She shared the secret with eacli flower that grew. 
 
 Beneath her touch the treasures manifold 
 Of fading summers lived in beauty new. 
 The rose with Mowing blush its storv told, 
 
 o o */ 
 
 Violet and heart' s-ease breathed in blue and 
 
 gold, 
 And spotless lilies sparkled with the dew. 
 
 ii. 
 
 And then her hand grew weary ; full and deep 
 The cup of life and love, and beauty's ray 
 Crowned her young brow as on her bridal day. 
 Not hers the doom to linger and to weep, 
 Nor feel the winds of stormy anguish sweep. 
 
 182 
 
THE FLOWER PAINTER. 183 
 
 Within her eyes strange, wistful shadows lay ; 
 The pencil from her light grasp dropped away, 
 And while the flowers slept, she too fell asleep. 
 
 "But summer days are come; will she return 
 Whose step a thousand blossoms yearn to greet ? r 
 O questioning flowers ! she has gone hence to 
 
 learn 
 
 If in that land your own life is complete ; 
 If heavenward borne on wings of odor sweet 
 Ye, too, in hues of deathless beauty burn. 
 
EBB AND FLOW. 
 
 MY river ! Thou art like the poet's soul, 
 
 Where tides of song perpetual ebb and flow. 
 
 Like thine the current of his life runs low 
 At times, his visions suffer loss and dole, 
 And sunken griefs break through the waters 
 shoal. 
 
 Then while despair is tossing to and fro 
 
 His stranded hope, a breath begins to blow 
 From the great sea ! With rising swell and roll 
 The waves of inspiration lift and float 
 
 His being into broad and full expanse. 
 Now rocks his fancy like an airy boat 
 
 On wreathed billows ; his impassioned glance 
 Little of cloud or reef or wreck will note, 
 
 On the high tide of song in blissful trance. 
 
 184 
 
HAPPINESS. 
 
 \ 
 
 LONG time I looked in every passing face 
 In search of happiness, the signal light 
 Of an interior flame, the blossom-bright 
 
 Midsummer of the soul, but found no trace 
 
 Till yesterday in a most lonely place, 
 
 One on whose heart had fallen woful blight, 
 Said to me " In the heaviness of night 
 
 I can remember Joy's supremest grace ! ' 
 
 O Fortunate ! Once to have felt the glow 
 Of full delight ; to bear within the breast 
 
 d* * 
 
 Even the ashes of life's perfect bloom. 
 Earth gives no more ; the happiness we know 
 Is veiled when with us, in the vanished guest 
 
 We first perceive an angel's fleeting plume. 
 
 185 
 
SOUNDS FROM HOME. 
 
 WHY, when sweet sounds are borne upon the air, 
 Doth such a homesick longing, not all pain, 
 A gladness greater than we can sustain, 
 Enthrall the sense, until we seem to share 
 Joys of some higher realm, we know not where? 
 Doth then the spirit for a moment gain 
 Ascendency o'er powers that long have lain 
 Dormant beneath a load of earthly care, 
 And recognize the sounds and sisrhs of home? 
 
 O O 
 
 O Melody ! the subtle power is thine 
 The inmost deeps of memory to reach, 
 The heights supreme of hope, till we are come 
 Near the soul's fatherland : we touch the line 
 Beyond which music is the only speech. 
 
 186 
 
FAR AND NEAR. 
 
 THIS little picture from across the sea 
 Shows me a foreign city's stately square, 
 A sculptured column piercing the blue air 
 Within its midst, and fountains dashing free 
 On either side, while many a bowery tree 
 
 Shades the wide pathways from the summer's 
 
 glare. 
 Princes of art and sons; have wandered there 
 
 O 
 
 In years gone by ; yet is it more to me 
 That in yon olden palace, looking down 
 
 Upon the winged marbles, dwells to-day 
 The beautiful companion of my youth, 
 Who, roving through the fair, historic town, 
 
 Thinks of me still, and wafts from far away 
 The blest aroma of a warm heart's truth. 
 
 187 
 
FOREST WORSHIP. 
 
 WE stood beneath the shadow of the wood 
 In Nature's own Cathedral. High in air 
 Hemlock and pine tree met in arches fair, 
 And at our feet, as if they understood 
 The forest's Sabbath's hushed, expectant mood, 
 The waves flowed back, till in the mid-day 
 
 glare 
 
 & . 
 
 The gray rocks stood like monks with foreheads 
 bare. 
 
 Suddenly from the inner solitude 
 
 A choir of sparrows in long, sweet refrain 
 Intoned a litany. There was no room 
 For priest nor psalm nor any spoken word, 
 
 For here the Spirit often sought in vain 
 
 Brooded at peace, and in the tranquil gloom 
 We almost heard the footsteps of our Lord. 
 
 188 
 
ISOLATION. 
 
 MOST solitary ! This is thy complaint ! 
 
 Then teach thy brooding spirit to forsake 
 
 Self-contemplation. Rise up and partake 
 Of Nature's converse. She hath fancies quaint, 
 Poetic moods, love legends without taint, 
 
 Such as the wild-bird tells by brook and brake, 
 
 Or the white lily dreams upon the lake, 
 Seen but by cloud and star, a vestal saint. 
 The forest bud expands in perfect bloom, 
 
 The meadow pool Heaven's starry splendor 
 
 knows ! 
 So thou superior to thy lonely doom, 
 
 May'st win each grace the fleeting hour 
 
 bestows, 
 Until all redolent of rare perfume 
 
 Thy wilderness shall blossom as the rose. 
 
 189 
 
ALTAR FLOWERS. 
 
 HE loved them, and what offering more meet 
 Wherewith to deck this pleasant, peaceful 
 
 place, 
 Than flowers, the living Ian<nia9re of His grace. 
 
 t d? H7 C_? C? 
 
 Dearer to Him than incense, for their sweet 
 Adoring beauty drew His wayworn feet 
 
 To linger near them. For their sake His face 
 
 O 
 
 Grew luminous, though no brief delight could 
 
 chase 
 
 That sacred, inner shadow. See Him greet, 
 With word and touch the lilies of the field ! 
 That word has given them subtler power than 
 
 speech, 
 That touch has made them glorious ; and the 
 
 best 
 
 The purest invocations we can yield, 
 The praise our faltering accents fail to reach, 
 We utter in the flowers that he has blest. 
 
 190 
 
STAR SOLITUDE. 
 
 I SOMETIMES wonder if yon star of even 
 Which has for everlasting ages shone 
 Stately and fair on its immaculate throne, 
 Ever looks forth, with sudden anguish riven, 
 Into the silver space, reproaching heaven 
 That in the very grandeur all its own 
 A doom is fixed, to be for aye alone ! 
 Eternal solitude with glory given. 
 
 The cottage lamp shines cheerily and strong 
 Into the night. It tells of evening mirth, 
 Of cradle music by the beaming hearth, 
 
 Rest, comfort, pleasure that to Home belong. 
 
 But thou, O Radiance ! high above the earth, 
 Ever and only nearest thine own song ! 
 
 191 
 
ST. CECILIA. 
 
 WHEN St. Cecilia, soul of song and fire, 
 
 Heard angels sing the numbers which had 
 
 lain 
 Unutterable within her fervid brain, 
 
 Heart-sick with hopeless, passionate desire, 
 
 In fragments at her feet she dashed her lyre ! 
 Broken, it could no longer mock her pain, 
 ISTor voice so ill the sweet, ideal strain 
 
 Which rang melodious from the heavenly choir. 
 
 O sad saint! was it not enough to know 
 
 Such music lived, though still beyond thy 
 reach ? 
 
 And wiser far, with tender touch and slow, 
 Thy instrument's mute helplessness to teach? 
 
 Content if ever from its strings should flow 
 
 O 
 
 Some syllables of that celestial speech ! 
 
 192 
 
M191973 
 
 THE UNIVERSITY OF CALIFORNIA LIBRARY