3S37 
 S 3812s 
 
 
 AND 
 
 m 
 
 MARTIN 
 SCHOTZE
 
 THE LIBRARY 
 
 OF 
 
 THE UNIVERSITY 
 OF CALIFORNIA 
 
 LOS ANGELES 
 
 GIFT OF 
 WILLIAM A. NITZE
 
 x^V 
 
 ^
 
 SONGS AND POEMS
 
 SONGS 
 
 AND 
 
 POEMS 
 
 MARTIN SCHUTZE 
 
 CHICAGO 
 
 THE LAURENTIAN PUBLISHERS 
 1914
 
 Copyright 1914 
 
 by 
 THE LAURENTIAN PUBLISHERS 
 
 faithora Jveit 
 
 Chicago
 
 PS 
 
 To MY MOTHER 
 
 "Who offers many things , 
 Something to many brings"
 
 NOTE 
 
 IESE poems, with the exception of a few printed in 
 periodicals, in "B. L. T.V A Line-o -Type or Two in The 
 Chicago Tribune and in the author s poetic dramas, 
 Hero and Leander and Judith, are now first published. 
 
 The "Songs of the Common Life" were written during the 
 Progressive presidential campaign of 1912.
 
 CONTENTS 
 
 SONGS OF THE COMMON LIFE 
 
 Easter 13 
 
 The Worker 14 
 
 The Vow of the Nation 16 
 
 The Division 17 
 
 The New Nation 18 
 
 The Heart of the People 20 
 
 The Flag of Fellowship 21 
 
 The Sister of the Blind 22 
 
 The Slum Child 23 
 
 The Singer 25 
 
 SONGS OF SEASONS AND HOURS 
 
 Late Spring 29 
 
 Apple Blossoms 30 
 
 Persephone s Return 32 
 
 Blossom Time 34 
 
 Summer Morning 35 
 
 Summer Shadowings 36 
 
 The Common Road 38 
 
 Freedom 40 
 
 The Blue Wind 41 
 
 October Gypsy 42 
 
 Nightfall 44 
 
 LOVE SONGS 
 
 Song 47 
 
 Love s Meadows 48 
 
 The Willow Tree 49 
 
 Three Night Songs 50 
 
 Two in the Moonlight 52 
 
 Thy Mouth s a Spring of Roses 54 
 
 As to the Sun 55
 
 CONTENTS Continued 
 
 The Gardener of My Love 
 
 The Tender Motions 
 
 Thy Voice 
 
 Shimmering Fancies 
 
 Her Love Came With the Blossoming 
 
 I Spoke of Morns 
 
 Two by a Lake 
 
 The Sea Lover 
 
 The Call 63 
 
 Tumultuous Passion 64 
 
 Night Phantom 65 
 
 The Children of Desire 66 
 
 Dawn 67 
 
 A Tip-Toe Visit 68 
 
 VARIOUS SONGS 
 
 The Gods of Life 
 
 A Memory 
 
 Beyond Our Strength 
 
 Morning Glory 
 
 Song of the Spirits of Beauty 
 
 Heart s Desire 
 
 POEMS 
 Her Tokens 
 
 A Wise Man 82 
 
 The Ripening of Love 83 
 
 Under the Rainbow Arch 86 
 
 Love 87 
 
 Dead Wisdom 
 Regeneration 90
 
 CONTENTS Continued 
 
 DISCOURSES 
 
 Friendship 93 
 
 Righteousness and Pity 94 
 
 Psyche 95 
 
 Clamor 98 
 
 Sympathy 99 
 
 Morning 102 
 
 EPIGRAMS 
 
 Name Not; Evoke! 107 
 
 Inner Riches 108 
 
 Spontaneity 109 
 
 The "Sober-Minded" 110 
 
 The Tory 111 
 
 The Reactionary 112 
 
 An Organ of Privilege 113 
 
 The Respectables 114 
 
 The " Practical People " 115 
 
 The Man of Precedent 116 
 
 The Insect 117 
 
 Dollar Efficiency 118 
 
 Unvisioned 119 
 
 Bourgeois Art 120 
 
 In Early Necessity Shirked 121 
 
 Wanwisdom 122 
 
 Mock-Kindness 123 
 
 Extravagance 124 
 
 Duties, Opportunities, Desires 125 
 
 Power, Endurance, Economy 126 
 
 A Cycle 127
 
 SONGS OF THE COMMON LIFE
 
 EASTER 
 
 o 
 
 PEN your windows, open your hearts! 
 Springtide enters, winter departs, 
 Life is risen mid sweet airs and song: 
 Open your hearts to her new-born throng. 
 
 Open your hearts, open your doors! 
 Scatter abroad your cherished stores, 
 Look not, nor trouble, where they may fall: 
 As ye receive, ye shall render to all. 
 
 Open your hearts, open your arms! 
 Share with all men what gladdens and harms. 
 Up! now, my cities, your portals adorn; 
 Rejoice! for a new spring of love is born. 
 
 13
 
 THE WORKER 
 
 T, 
 
 HEY sit in the house that I have made, 
 And I must wander again. 
 They have my peac^and sheltering shade, 
 And I, the dust and rain. 
 
 Their brows are smooth and their eyes are calm, 
 Their hands are satin sleek, 
 But where is the balm will soften my palm 
 And unstrain my coarsened cheek? 
 
 The harvest that I have sown, they reap, 
 They boast of the weal I wrought; 
 The portals that I threw wide, they keep, 
 They father the gifts I brought. 
 What I have earned is their increment, 
 The gold of my dreams, their crown, 
 My life s intent, their monument, 
 My worth, their rich renown. 
 
 Their tender hands, o er quick with pain, 
 Would beckon the spirit s boon, 
 Yet are they dead to the shaping strain 
 That stirs in the block rough-hewn; 
 They do not wake the god that sleeps 
 In the heart of the humblest task, 
 They span no steeps, they sound no deeps, 
 Content with the velvet mask. 
 
 14
 
 The dust is sharp in my throat and eye; 
 
 Still to my stride I hold, 
 
 While their souls faint and smothering lie 
 
 Under dust of gain and gold. 
 
 My forehead is rough, mine eye a-stress, 
 
 But know their brows unmarred 
 
 How thoughts of grace and gentleness 
 
 Wear paths that are deep and hard? 
 
 They sit in the house that I have built 
 
 And I must wander on; 
 
 They hold the cup, but the draught is spilt, 
 
 Nor know they how it is won. 
 
 I may not rest when the call I hear 
 
 Nor eat the fruit of my tree; 
 
 And some may jeer, and some may fear, 
 
 But no man shall master me. 
 
 15
 
 THE VOW OF THE NATION 
 
 I 
 
 HAVE looked upon mine image in the mirror of the 
 
 Lord, 
 I have gazed upon a craven mid the tempest and the 
 
 flame, 
 
 I have felt within my vitals the entering of the sword, 
 I have sworn to bring a harvest out of barrenness and 
 
 shame. 
 
 My shame shall be my banner borne on high, 
 My folly, a great summons and a pledge, 
 My sore reproach I make my battle cry, 
 My dullness beat into a shining edge; 
 
 My blindness shape into a javelin, 
 
 My fear, into a falcon on the wing; 
 
 My sloth shall be my charger mid the din, 
 
 My faintness, a bright arrow on the string. 
 
 I have looked upon mine image in the mirror of the Lord, 
 I have gazed upon a craven mid the tempest and the 
 
 flame, 
 
 I have felt within my vitals the entering of the sword, 
 I have sworn to bring a harvest out of barrenness and 
 
 shame. 
 
 16
 
 THE DIVISION 
 
 Y, 
 
 E that hold faith stronger than death, 
 Stand forth in battle to the last breath; 
 Naught is of worth in heaven and earth 
 Till a new triumph of truth shall have birth. 
 
 Stand ye now forth, the West and the North, 
 
 The South and the East; for the faith stand ye forth! 
 
 Ye that are faint, make ye no plaint, 
 Perish with them of the traitorous taint; 
 Ye that are numb, scornful and dumb, 
 Tremble, the day of oblivion has come. 
 
 Stand ye now forth, the West and the North, 
 
 The South and the East; for the faith stand ye forth! 
 
 Ye that would trim, bewry, and bedim 
 
 The intent of the day, find the day grown grim, 
 
 A division keen, a sword cutting clean 
 
 Twixt the right and the wrong, with nothing between. 
 
 Stand ye now forth, the West and the North, 
 
 The South and the East; for the faith stand ye forth! 
 
 Ye that hold faith stronger than death, 
 Stand forth in battle to the last breath; 
 Naught is of worth in heaven and earth 
 Till a new triumph of truth shall have birth. 
 
 Stand ye now forth, the West and the North, 
 
 The South and the East; for the faith stand ye forth! 
 
 17
 
 THE NEW NATION 
 
 Tune: " The Son of God Goes Forth to War" 
 
 r UR hosts are marching to the war 
 For man and liberty, 
 Our banners flutter near and far; 
 Who shall our leader be? 
 Who bears the token of the Lord, 
 The word that makes men free, 
 Whose faith is as a flaming sword, 
 He shall our leader be. 
 
 A gilded pit of greed and gain 
 
 Where might alone is free, 
 
 A palace propped by need and pain, 
 
 Shall this our country be? 
 
 A land for all to labor in 
 
 And share in just degree, 
 
 Where none shall want what all may win, 
 
 That shall our country be. 
 
 Who trades on weakness and despair, 
 
 And mints the guileless plea, 
 
 Who fattens on the orphaned care, 
 
 Shall he our comrade be? 
 
 Who seeks the light of brotherhood 
 
 Spite Profit s cold decree, 
 
 The warrior for the common good, 
 
 He shall our comrade be. 
 
 18
 
 Come, man and matron, boy and maid, 
 
 Come, all that will be free, 
 
 March on, march on, ye plain brigade, 
 
 On, on! To victory. 
 
 Hark, hark! A voice comes from above, 
 
 It is the Lord s decree: 
 
 The rule of man shall be man s love. 
 
 That shall our watchword be. 
 
 19
 
 THE HEART OF THE PEOPLE 
 
 (To "B. L. T.") 
 
 \/UIET, my heart; be still! 
 Traitors have stolen the keys of thy house, 
 Thieves possess it to rob and carouse, 
 Homeless to rove they have driven thee out. 
 Quiet, my heart; be stout! 
 
 Quiet, my heart; be stout! 
 Give not thy flames to thy wrath to devour, 
 Feed not thy hope to the stress of the hour; 
 Nurture resolve, as a treasure amassed. 
 Quiet, my heart; hold fast! 
 
 Quiet, my heart; hold fast! 
 Gather thy strength in a cup unriven, 
 Then pour it forth as a flood from heaven; 
 None shall stay thy steadfast will. 
 Quiet, my heart; be still! 
 
 20
 
 THE FLAG OF FELLOWSHIP 
 
 r LING 
 
 thy joy as a flag to the dancing breeze; 
 Let it speak to the troubled and give them ease. 
 Quicken all that are sad, 
 None shall languish when thou art glad. 
 
 Lift thine hope as a flag to the blue of heaven, 
 Raise a token for all that have stanchly striven, 
 That the stress of intent 
 Gems the dome of accomplishment. 
 
 Spread thy will as a flag to the airs of morning, 
 That it swell with the breath of the future s dawning, 
 That it glow with the light 
 As a herald upon the height. 
 
 Give thy love as a flag to the press of June-tide, 
 Let it stir with the pulse of creation s noon-tide. 
 Own the general sway, 
 Gladly follow the common way. 
 
 21
 
 WE 
 
 THE SISTER OF THE BLIND 
 
 (To W. //.) 
 
 walked in darkness where would come no dawn, 
 In black despair where hope had never trod, 
 When lo! on pity s pinions upward borne 
 She brought a new light from the throne of God. 
 
 She taught our fingers, lo! and gave them eyes, 
 
 Our feet she set upon the seeing way, 
 
 To empty hands the tools of enterprise, 
 
 To powers disowned restored their native sway. 
 
 She lit the lamp of service for the lost, 
 And of the house of Hope us fellows made. 
 Now life is sweet amid a fruitful host, 
 Our labor glad, our leisure unafraid. 
 
 22
 
 THE SLUM CHILD 
 
 T 
 
 -L HE sun sheds gold on a hill far away, 
 
 But his gold is not for thee; 
 A brier rose blooms where glad children play, 
 But its breath is not for thee. 
 
 From a thousand herds the warm milk flows, 
 
 But it foams not in thy pail; 
 On a thousand lands the bread golden grows, 
 
 But thy loaf is scant and stale. 
 
 Each morn has trailed her garment s edge 
 O er flowers, in heaven that blow; 
 
 Each day on his brow bears a heavenly pledge, 
 But how art thou to know? 
 
 23
 
 THE SINGER 
 
 r l VE me your flowers, 
 Your tears and applause; 
 Bid the dumb minutes 
 For me pause. 
 
 What passed twixt rose 
 And the heart of June 
 Has linked us awhile 
 In magic of tune. 
 
 Long in darkness 
 I strove unknown; 
 Soon into darkness 
 I glide alone. 
 
 The rose on your bosom 
 To-morrow is dead; 
 Lost is the voice 
 Of the song that is sped. 
 
 Only to-day 
 
 I may dazzle and reign 
 Shower me with plaudits 
 And roses again. 
 
 25
 
 SONGS OF SEASONS AND HOURS
 
 LATE SPRING 
 
 E waited, waited, while the Spring held back 
 Silent and tense as hangs a gathering storm; 
 But now it bursts, it bursts, and in its track 
 The fires of being leap from every form. 
 
 The signal lights arose in flaming trees, 
 And we began to count from day to day 
 The flower signs along ravines, and leas, 
 And hillsides where the new sun had his way. 
 
 And now it bursts, it bursts; the count is lost 
 Amid this smother of the mounting tide: 
 Out, out! a flower to be among this host, 
 A leaf, a song, a fragrance far and wide. 
 
 29
 
 APPLE BLOSSOMS 
 
 Apple buds in leafy bower, 
 Blushing toward the waking hour 
 
 Little maid upon the green 
 In the roses of thy dawn, 
 Seest thou the paler sheen 
 On the verges of the morn, 
 While thy head with music throngs 
 And its golden fancies weaves, 
 As the bough with sudden songs 
 And with sudden, silken leaves 
 
 Apple buds in leafy bower, 
 Blushes wane at waking hour. 
 
 Apple blossoms on the bough, 
 Light and Life possess you now 
 
 Sweet are Light and Life to thee, 
 Maiden; Love waits on the way 
 Where thou drinkest thirstily 
 At the fountains of thy May, 
 With a new light in thine eyes 
 And a wonder in thy heart 
 Where the troubled mysteries 
 And unbidden tremors start 
 
 Apple blossoms on the bough, 
 Love and Life your masters now. 
 
 30
 
 Apple blossoms on the breeze 
 In abandon of release 
 
 Maiden of the wilful ways, 
 Are the flower curtains rent? 
 Wouldst escape the coming days? 
 Wouldst forgo their rich intent? 
 Art a wild unbridled thing 
 That was never meant to serve, 
 Or but spreading fancy s wing 
 In a house of still reserve? 
 
 Apple blossoms on the breeze, 
 Service over, comes release. 
 
 Apple blossoms on the ground, 
 That fruition may abound 
 
 Gathers now the wedded Earth 
 In a fierce, creative strife, 
 In relentless urge of birth, 
 All the energies of Life. 
 Maiden, art intent to hear, 
 As the world around thee swells 
 With the pledges of the year, 
 Biddings of thy marriage bells? 
 
 Apple blossoms on the ground, 
 Life s fulfilment shall abound. 
 
 31
 
 PERSEPHONE S RETURN 
 
 L HE 
 
 rain mists fleet and drift on the dream-dim earth, 
 As thoughts move softly over a mother s face, 
 Dreaming the tender dreams of budding and birth 
 And of a secret that grows apace. 
 
 A secret trembles ever upon the bound, 
 Light feet go skipping over the nodding grain, 
 A coming voice coos deep in the soft rain sound, 
 And in the trees that bow to the rain. 
 
 A secret closes gently upon the trees, 
 And every shape with bountiful boding fills; 
 A secret steals with rain-wraiths along the leas, 
 Over the grey and lonely hills. 
 
 The hills are grey and empty and far away, 
 But close the teeming trees and expectant field; 
 A strainless stillness sleeps at the heart of day, 
 Folding the thing that shall be revealed 
 
 That starts to come, a light from the opening earth, 
 A smile still wan with blight of the fields of death, 
 A smile already warm with the glow of birth, 
 Dim as a glass with a wavering breath. 
 
 32
 
 And slowly lifts her veiled head into the light 
 The Child of Earth, once more from the shades returning; 
 Softly the lingering shadow of death takes flight, 
 Softly the fires of life are burning. 
 
 Again the Mother hastens her Child to meet, 
 Her garments trail on flower, and clod, and leaf, 
 But now no anguish lashes her dewy feet, 
 No more her tears are the tears of grief. 
 
 33
 
 BLOSSOM TIME 
 
 BLOSSOM time, brimming time, 
 
 Pouring out thy treasure. 
 
 Hill tops brim with billowing cloud, 
 Birds each dell with rapture crowd, 
 Brooks are roaring overloud, 
 
 Mocking bound and measure. 
 
 Blossom time, breathless time, 
 
 Quick with tears and laughter. 
 
 Sun the scented cup would drain, 
 Sullen shower parts the twain, 
 Brazen breeze drives off the rain, 
 
 Casts the blossoms after. 
 
 Blossom time, unbridled time, 
 
 Brooking no subdual. 
 
 Life is wilful everywhere, 
 Wasting hosts that one may bear, 
 Then decreeing waste the heir 
 
 Of her next renewal. 
 
 Blossom time, bounteous time, 
 
 Riskless is thy reaping. 
 
 What is loss when Life is all, 
 What is waste where each must fall, 
 Blossom, fruit, and silken ball, 
 
 Back into Her keeping. 
 
 34
 
 SUMMER MORNING 
 
 A 
 
 SPIRIT moves 
 Upon the waters of the summer sea, 
 A radiant presence, free 
 As winged angels, of the weight that proves 
 The rule of death. 
 
 The kindling ripples bursting at our feet 
 Pour out a sun-born breath, 
 An inward scent, so pure, so Eden-sweet: 
 Time is at morn again, 
 And Life is purged of heaviness and pain. 
 
 35
 
 SUMMER SHADOWINGS 
 
 HADOWS of feet of summer winds on flowering grasses, 
 Shadows of dancing feet on impetuous mountain streams, 
 Shadows of wings where the breezes dart over blue sea 
 
 spaces, 
 Shadows of fairy forms shot through with the forest 
 
 gleams: 
 
 Bring, O! bring me again the spirits of firstling Graces, 
 Bring them, match them again with the wings of my 
 
 pilgrim dreams, 
 
 Summon and guide my feet to the far, enchanted places 
 Where from the groves of Morning the vision of Eden 
 
 beams. 
 
 Swift, young Graces, alert in the quickened eyes that 
 
 confessed me, 
 Graces that circled the brow and the dusky dome of the 
 
 head, 
 Told each tender design and foreknowledge of hands that 
 
 caressed me, 
 Sprang from the melting of lines where the wave of motion 
 
 sped; 
 Spoke in each cadence, each tremor of tones, that sought 
 
 and possessed me, 
 Flew to the dawning of words, and divined what no words 
 
 ever said, 
 Read from the wordless lips the treasured speeches that 
 
 blessed me, 
 Trembled in fires of longing that leapt my longing to wed. 
 
 36
 
 Shades of a Presence that people the azure, sun-sweet 
 
 spaces, 
 
 Echoes of tender words that are wafted into my dreams: 
 Lead, O! lead me again to the far, enchanted places, 
 Where from the groves of Morning the vision of Eden 
 
 beams. 
 
 37
 
 now for reaches of open road, 
 With sun and flowers and fragrance abroad, 
 With sun and breezes and birds in the leaves, 
 And the year on the turn in yellow sheaves. 
 
 A road not so new it troubles the mind, 
 Nor so storied, memories limp behind, 
 Where hoof and foot and tire unite 
 One large inseparate tale to write. 
 
 Each bird has a voice and different air, 
 Is it thrush or yellow throat? What do I care! 
 The trees tell tales, and the hill streams shout, 
 I do not trouble to make them out. 
 
 I do not strain after clues that fail, 
 I do not camp on the edge of the tale, 
 Nor teach my feet to falter and stray, 
 But hold to the immemorial way. 
 
 I hear but one great voice abroad, 
 Singing the song of the common road, 
 When the seasons traffic burdens the air 
 And the sun spreads blessings everywhere. 
 
 38
 
 And it s ever to keep on an even way, 
 Never to hasten, never to stay, 
 Nor vainly linger, nor backward yearn; 
 Onward and sunward, and never turn; 
 
 Attuned to the one great voice abroad, 
 Heeding the call of the common road, 
 When the seasons traffic burdens the air 
 And the sun spreads blessings everywhere. 
 
 39
 
 FREEDOM 
 
 O! 
 
 TO be standing on that outmost leaf, 
 With summer s breath to sway me in the sun; 
 Of franchised dreams to bind a balmy sheaf 
 And be of earth-free birds companion. 
 
 40
 
 THE BLUE WIND 
 
 J? ROM North to East swings the blue gale 
 As turns a great wheel, loath to halt, 
 The Great Lake spreads his peacock tail, 
 Blue, green, beneath a vast blue vault. 
 The waves raise up their shouts amain, 
 Their lips are curving clean and proud; 
 The world is young and fresh again, 
 And Life comes singing full and loud. 
 
 41
 
 OCTOBER GYPSY 
 
 I 
 
 FOUND her wandering over the hill 
 
 One warm October day; 
 Her feet, sun-glints that swift and still 
 O er waving grasses stray. 
 
 A single wind-blown garment torn 
 
 Clung to her slender form, 
 Grey, purple-shaded, season-worn 
 
 By sun, and thorn, and storm. 
 
 Her golden tresses were shot with fire 
 
 As sun-lit maple trees; 
 And through them, eyes of deep desire 
 
 Blue sky through golden leaves. 
 
 Her head was purple-aster crowned 
 
 (Pale wreath of the Autumn dawn) ; 
 
 Her eyes were shaded with twilight round 
 As the blue October morn. 
 
 We roamed the jeweled morning through 
 
 With the cloud-shadows over the downs; 
 
 At noon we lay where the sky hung blue 
 In thin, gold maple crowns.
 
 Close as noOn shadows, leaves were strown 
 
 Golden around each tree; 
 Ripe and gay, the leaves came down, 
 
 Passionate souls set free. , 
 
 Her songs were as the rustling trees 
 
 (Linked echoes of things half said) ; 
 
 Her hands alive as the grass-sweet breeze 
 That softly over us sped: 
 
 This is the bridal of the Earth, 
 
 These, her nuptial bowers, 
 These are the days of passionate mirth, 
 
 These, her golden showers. 
 
 With seeds, and leaves, and the wandering sky, 
 
 Her ministers are we, 
 We ripen, beget, and bear, and die, 
 
 Yet changeless are as she. 
 
 Of the magic knowledge, these the days, 
 
 Which youth eternal brings, 
 When we see the vision of her face 
 
 Through the rifting screen of things . . . 
 
 43.
 
 NIGHTFALL 
 
 HE woods and fields are still; 
 The night is calm 
 Upon the silent hill; 
 A dew-cool balm 
 Descends upon the lids of day; 
 The murmurs of the night 
 In drowsy flight 
 Rise ever, fall, and drift away: 
 Dreams are abroad, 
 And Sleep is on her way. 
 
 44
 
 LOVE SONGS
 
 SONG 
 
 JL THINK of thee when, white beyond the mountains, 
 The clouds arise; 
 
 I long for thee when, deep in trembling fountains, 
 The young moon lies. 
 
 Deep in the sound of waters never staying 
 Thy voice I hear; 
 
 Amid the stir of grasses gently swaying 
 Thy tread is near. 
 
 I see thee when the moonlight softly glimmers 
 On roof and tower; 
 
 And when the sun in jeweled splendor shimmers 
 Through leaf and flower. 
 
 Thou comest to me when from mountain meadows 
 The dawn descends; 
 
 Thou bidest when the silent tide of shadows 
 The hill ascends, 
 
 As woods and fields and flowers await the dawning, 
 I wait for thee. 
 
 The mists are filling with the fires of morning 
 O! come to me. 
 
 47
 
 LOVE S MEADOWS 
 
 M 
 
 .Y love and I in the meadow lie, 
 In the deep grass hidden so close, so close, 
 Where in shadow-sprays the low sun strays 
 And, passing, smiles, for he knows. 
 
 And free to every sun-warm breeze 
 As the winnowed grass, is my soul, my soul, 
 To the fragrant breeze, the vagrant breeze, 
 Faint with sweet summer-dole. 
 
 There s none to spy but the glimmering sky, 
 And his lover s heart is so wide, so wide 
 Soon in godly mirth he will hold the Earth 
 In his arms, a dark-tressed bride. 
 
 A little bird, can he have heard 
 
 What our trembling hearts have sighed, have sighed, 
 
 His wooing song he has stilled so long 
 
 He knows, he knows, my bride . . . 
 
 We know a place of crumpled grass 
 Where we lay together so close, so close, 
 Where memories stray, as of new-mown hay 
 The fragrance and no one knows. 
 
 48
 
 THE WILLOW TREE 
 
 w, 
 
 HERE the cliff looks o er the valley 
 I have grown a willow tree, 
 And it rustles, and it whispers 
 But my soldier, where is he? 
 
 Dust is whirling in the valley, 
 I see horsemen, young and free; 
 See their lances, see them flashing 
 But my soldier, where is he? 
 
 I can hear them, hear their voices, 
 In the murmurs of my tree; 
 And I listen, wait and listen 
 But my soldier, where is he? 
 
 49
 
 THREE NIGHT SONGS 
 
 T 
 
 A HY presence dwells 
 Among the starlit places; 
 And from the wide night-spaces 
 A music wells, 
 Purer than song, 
 
 Clearer than evening bells in harmony; 
 The night with all her throng 
 Of voices cannot hush the melody 
 In which thy spirit comes 
 And speaks to me. 
 
 II 
 
 Thy spirit fills 
 
 The vibrant spaces of the night; 
 
 The choiring hills, 
 
 In robes of pearly light, 
 
 Raise up their voices in a chant of praise; 
 
 The valleys sing 
 
 Their song of starlit peace; 
 
 And from the dewy wing 
 
 Of the sweet breeze 
 
 Fall echoes of the music of thy ways. 
 
 SO
 
 Ill 
 
 The music of thy soul ascends 
 
 The sounding dome of night, 
 
 And in low murmurs blends 
 
 With echoes of the songs of praise 
 
 Of them that walk the aisles of starry light, 
 
 And love with great devotion in all their ways; 
 
 Above the throng of voices I hear thee, 
 
 And all is well with me. 
 
 51
 
 TWO IN THE MOONLIGHT 
 
 IVLoONLIGHT floods the hills and fields 
 
 Silent everywhere, 
 
 Mounts into thy radiant face, 
 
 Breaks amid thine hair. 
 
 The still baptism of the night 
 Gives a full release, 
 And our spirits melt at last 
 In a silvery peace. 
 
 A new knowledge gently comes, 
 While our pulses wait, 
 In a misty radiance 
 From the twilight gate. 
 
 Words have melted all away 
 With forgotten things, 
 Every wish has flown away 
 On mist-woven wings. 
 
 In the soft fires of thine eyes 
 Every answer lives, 
 All that I required of life, 
 And that now it gives. 
 
 52
 
 All that we desired and sought, 
 Hopes despoiled and spent, 
 Wells to brim the gleaming cup 
 Of accomplishment. 
 
 Things of change are swept away, 
 Things to come and past, 
 And the Present all complete 
 Folds us round at last. 
 
 Joys and sorrows now are one 
 In exalted mood, 
 As we walk twixt light and dark 
 In beatitude. 
 
 S3
 
 T, 
 
 HY mouth s a spring of roses 
 As the honey mouth of June, 
 Thy throat, a bower of nightingales, 
 And all the world, a tune. 
 
 And all the world is singing, 
 And Time is e er at June; 
 God s smile is beaming on thy head, 
 His grace is in the tune.
 
 .S to the sun one holds a rose 
 To kindle jewels of delight, 
 The choicest boon each day bestows 
 I lift into thy spirit s light. 
 
 As groves of spring are desolate 
 Till song awakens ecstasy, 
 My spirit s fairest places wait 
 For thee, my being s melody. 
 
 55
 
 THE GARDENER OF MY LOVE 
 
 c 
 
 OHE is the gardener of my love 
 
 And every tender grace 
 
 That springs i my heart, I straightway move 
 
 And in her garden place. 
 
 Frail are and shy the buds of grace, 
 Perish for want of care, 
 But in her beds they grow apace 
 For all they ask is there: 
 
 The fostering warmth that never fails, 
 Sweet cunning of her hands, 
 Variety that never stales, 
 The light that flowers commands. 
 
 And thus her garden sweeter grows, 
 And friends shall come and see, 
 A Love is every flower that blows, 
 Loves sing in every tree. 
 
 56
 
 T, 
 
 HE tender motions of the soul 
 On trackless courses fly, 
 But she inscribes them on a scroll 
 Of loving constancy; 
 
 And when at last the Lord of Days 
 Shall tell the tale complete, 
 They shall be stars upon the ways 
 Where spirit lovers meet. 
 
 57
 
 THY VOICE 
 
 T, 
 
 HY voice, unselfed, comes to my hushed sense 
 As a clear Sabbath bell to summer fields. 
 I fold it in a tenderness immense, 
 And all my being adoration yields. 
 
 58
 
 SHIMMERING FANCIES 
 
 L 
 
 rIKE summer clouds, thy. shimmering fancies move 
 Above the spreading meadows of thy heart, 
 And to the fruitful constancy of love 
 A tender magic, e er renewed, impart.
 
 H 
 
 .ER love came with the blossoming 
 And spoke amid the song, 
 And all the miracles of spring 
 To her revealment throng. 
 
 For every bud that opens now 
 Unfolds her heart to me, 
 And every song upon the bough 
 Resounds her melody.
 
 I 
 
 SPOKE of morns of love to her; 
 Her swelling lips wore blushes, lo! 
 As if in them began to stir 
 The buds of kisses soon to blow. 
 
 I spoke of nights of love to her; 
 Her swelling bosom trembled, lo! 
 As if within began to stir 
 The buds of life eager to blow. 
 
 61
 
 TWO BY A LAKE 
 
 A 
 
 MOONLIGHT touch on the woodlands, 
 Two ghosts of trees by a lake, 
 A world-wide peace, and a stillness 
 With a boundless wish in its wake 
 
 The glimmering spaces above us, 
 An answering gleam at our feet, 
 And tremulous riddles within us 
 Where the lights and shadows meet 
 
 A moonlight touch on your forehead, 
 A tremulous gleam in your eyes; 
 And Life with its treasures between us, 
 And Life with its poverties. 
 
 62
 
 T, 
 
 THE SEA LOVER 
 
 I. THE CALL 
 
 HE sound of the sea is the great multitudinous shout 
 
 Of my passion wooing thee, 
 
 The tireless tramp of the waves at my feet is the rout 
 Of desire pursuing me. 
 
 Here is my heart, wide as the clangorous cup of the sky, 
 
 Wide for the tumult and splendor and fury to fill it; 
 This is my call, mounting the breakers thundering cry, 
 
 None but the Keeper of tempest and seasons may 
 
 still it; 
 Here is my breast, brave as a rock set square to the rush, 
 
 Square to the huge upheavals and white embraces; 
 (Loud is the laugh of this Titan mirth in the roar and gush 
 
 Of winds and waters and rioting tidal races) ; 
 Here is the floor of my soul, more stirred than the floor 
 of the ocean, 
 
 Glad for the march of the hosts of thy primitive force; 
 Here the desire thou cravest, athirst for thy passionate 
 potion, 
 
 A well of renewal, unspent as the ocean s source. 
 
 The sound of the sea is the great multitudinous shout 
 
 Of my passion wooing thee; 
 The tireless tramp of the waves at my feet is the rout 
 
 Of desire pursuing me. 
 
 63
 
 I 
 
 II. TUMULTUOUS PASSION 
 
 PLUNGE into thy soul as the great winds 
 Into the bosom of the tormented sea. 
 
 Are they trying to bury themselves in the deep? 
 Are they trying to dive to peace and sleep? -> 
 Or mad with desire to give to the sea 
 Their passionate power and giant glee? 
 And dost thou answer me as the emulous sea 
 Does the great summons of the resistless winds? 
 
 64
 
 
 III. NIGHT PHANTOM 
 
 I have stood by the silent sea, 
 Gazing into the depths of night 
 Down one gleaming path of light, 
 Desiring thee. 
 
 Is it thy guide lamp lit for me? 
 Is it a star path lost in the mist? 
 Is it thy spirit, come to the tryst 
 Over leagues of sea? 
 
 Now it seems to rise, and now 
 It towers high on the breathless sea, 
 A radiant phantom presence of thee 
 With a star in thy brow. 
 
 My soul knew words that were never spoken, 
 And uttered what never can be unsaid; 
 The touch of thy hand was upon my head 
 As a blessed token. 
 
 Was it thy hand, now, cool as the sea? 
 Was it the night astir in my hair? 
 Or some essence subtler than air, 
 Distilled from thee? .... 
 
 How long have I stood? Where did I stray? 
 The sea is black and menacing now, 
 The night is stark and empty, and thou 
 Art leagues away. 
 
 65
 
 L HE 
 
 IV. THE CHILDREN OF DESIRE 
 
 words of love thou saidst to me, 
 With the winds went out upon the sea 
 To the islands of desire; 
 And there, upon the sunrise cove, 
 Came to them, from a sacred grove, 
 My longings, crowned with fire. 
 
 They met, so passionate and young, 
 
 And from their glad, wild wedding sprung 
 
 The spirits of felicity. 
 
 And in the waves upon the shore 
 
 That urge and surge, forevermore 
 
 Our own come home to thee and me. 
 
 66
 
 V. DAWN 
 
 OLOWLY the opal flower of Morning rises, 
 Opens, and spreads, and shines on the marvelling sea, 
 And from its golden heart, through misty guises, 
 Wells, with the tides of light, thy love to me. 
 
 67
 
 A TIP-TOE VISIT 
 
 A 
 
 GROWING rustle and a fragrant waft 
 A tenderness swift-stooping to my head; 
 I dare not stir to keep with humble craft 
 The unstartled graces with the wary tread. 
 
 A walling rustle and a fading waft 
 A sunny something fading from my heart; 
 I dare not stir to hold with tremulous craft 
 My captives, lest they startle and depart. 
 
 68
 
 VARIOUS SONGS
 
 THE GODS OF LIFE 
 
 DARKNESS fell upon the stricken world, 
 The earth was empty as a drained cup; 
 And men knew death, and in their anguish cried: 
 Why have the gods of life forsaken us? 
 
 The gods read the faint hearts of men, and smile. 
 They send abroad the legions of the light, 
 Dispelling ever the dark waste of death, 
 Ever renewing life upon the earth. 
 
 Ye that would be the servants of the gods, 
 Obey the voice of love within your hearts. 
 Love is the sacred guardian of life, 
 Knowing the deepest purpose of the gods. 
 
 71
 
 A MEMORY 
 
 T, 
 
 HOU wert as an evening primrose 
 In golden loveliness, 
 Thou spirit of tender twilight, 
 Withheld from the day s distress. 
 
 Primrose awakes to the presence 
 Of the great and simple things 
 That dwell in the starry darkness 
 Where peace extends her wings. 
 
 Dawn offers her sweetest graces: 
 A virgin chaplet of dew, 
 Voices of birds and breezes 
 Calling the light anew. 
 
 But when all her sisters quicken 
 In the power and press of day, 
 She folds her golden eyelids 
 And unheeded droops away. 
 
 Thou wert as an evening primrose 
 In golden loveliness, 
 Thou spirit of tender twilight, 
 Fordone bv the dav s distress. 
 
 72
 
 BEYOND OUR STRENGTH 
 
 L 
 
 rIGHT-HEART and Heavy-Heart 
 Went on the road together, 
 Light-Heart trilled and tripped along, 
 Foul or fair the weather. 
 
 Heavy-Heart beat the time 
 And came trudging after, 
 As blight steals upon the bloom, 
 Slow remorse on laughter. 
 
 Light-Heart forgot his tune, 
 Heavy-Heart can t learn it: 
 "Tears, and tears, and tears," it says, 
 Howsoe er they turn it. 
 
 Side by side they drag along, 
 Try their hearts to smother, 
 With the Cain mark on their brows, 
 Praying for each other. 
 
 73
 
 MORNING GLORY 
 
 (To J. and A. D. In Memory of G. D.} 
 
 c 
 
 OTAY thy frail lids, morning glory, 
 
 Purple eye of dawn; 
 
 Diadem of the child-day, 
 Ere his dreams are fled away, 
 And his mist wings worn away, 
 
 And his tresses shorn. 
 
 Boy and girl on brink of day 
 
 Where the veil is torn, 
 
 Pause with earnest, wondering eyes 
 Mid the drifting mysteries 
 And the splendors that arise 
 
 From the ebbing morn. 
 
 Morning mists, fleeting fast 
 
 From the pressing day, 
 
 Are you phantoms that conceal 
 Granite thresholds of the Real, 
 Or vast beings that reveal 
 
 Truth of morn and May? 
 
 Must Life beat upon the gate 
 Till Time his dawn flower sheds? 
 Is Truth in the bloom of dawn, 
 Vision of great things yet unborn, 
 A lesser presence ere tis shorn 
 Of dim dreams and dreads? 
 
 74
 
 Are not Love and Life fulfilled 
 
 In their every pulse? 
 
 In the heritage of Youth, 
 
 Are the seeds of After-Truth, 
 
 The ripe fruits from showers of blooth, 
 
 All that God s hand culls? 
 
 75
 
 SONG OF THE SPIRITS OF BEAUTY 
 
 (From "The Mad Painter And The Rose.") 
 
 w 
 
 E are the real, we are the seeming, 
 We are the word, we are the thought, 
 We, the fulfilment that is the dreaming, 
 We, the seeking that is the sought. 
 
 We are the body, we, the spirit, 
 
 We are the cover, we, the core; 
 
 The wealth of the wave is for us to inherit 
 
 Though the wave has crumbled upon the shore. 
 
 Spread the net of thy greed for gross possession, 
 Tighten, and tighten the meshes again 
 Till thou catchest the wind: O dull obsession! 
 Thy net is bellying and tugging in vain. 
 
 We are thy net as it ripples around thee, 
 
 We the desire that guided thy hand, 
 
 We are the spell of swift magic that bound thee, 
 
 We, spirits of sky and sea and land. 
 
 We, thy desire, but thou didst not pursue us, 
 We, throngs without end on thy heedless ways, 
 Ever wooing thy sense if thy sense but knew us; 
 And our service is faith that never betrays. 
 
 76
 
 Thou chasest the shadow where dwelleth the presence, 
 Thou turnest to phantoms where spirits abide, 
 Thine own thirst drinkest where floweth the essence, 
 Thou wooest a corpse where Life is the bride. 
 
 Wouldst quicken the pace of the forms that are fleeing, 
 Yet their spirits on stakes of possession impale; 
 Thou callest a halt on the fountain of being, 
 Yet wouldst not possess it stagnant and stale. 
 
 We are what keeps throbbing, of hearts that have 
 
 crumbled, 
 
 What stays of birds darting from perch to perch, 
 What dies not of deeds though their empires have 
 
 tumbled, 
 Of the breeze-tended grace of the storm-stricken birch. 
 
 In the fleeting of forms we falter and fly not, 
 
 In the shifting of places we yield not to space, 
 
 In the changing of times we alter and die not, 
 
 We, the victors of death in the death-conquered face. 
 
 77
 
 HEART S DESIRE 
 
 V^/VER the blue hills, far away, 
 There lies happiness, they would say. 
 
 And I arose and onward sped 
 Heart s Desire was flying ahead. 
 
 Never lagged when my hair was gray 
 Heart s Desire was drawing away. 
 
 Came to a height, swept bare by the wind 
 Heart s Desire had left me behind. 
 
 Over the blue hills, far away, 
 There lies happiness, so they say. 
 
 78
 
 POEMS
 
 HER TOKENS 
 
 c 
 
 OOME are so changeless that they go about 
 Wearing the withered rose of yesterday; 
 Some, since the fairest blossoms fade away, 
 Dare not possess them; while the bold that flout 
 Both tender care and measure in the rout 
 Of harsh attainment, heap them, bruise, and slay. 
 Some, ere the old has fairly had its day, 
 Snatch at the new with fevered hand of doubt, 
 Fearing reproach of dullness; or but tread 
 Their squirrel s wheel of change and fickleness. 
 But she commands the magic art to wed 
 Tokens to moods with supple gentleness, 
 Both honoring, the tokens of her treasure, 
 And him that reads her riches in her measure. 
 
 81
 
 A WISE MAN 
 
 T 
 
 J_ HE precious motions of the spirit rise, 
 Flash up and perish. Some men never know; 
 Some dully mark them as a faded show; 
 In terror some avert their perjured eyes; 
 Some would recall them with inactive cries, 
 Forever facing from the living flow; 
 Some curse the God that mocks their longing so; 
 Some seek their God where very longing dies. 
 
 But he with gentle, never hasting hand 
 
 Each present moment raises up aloft, 
 
 A priceless jewel, until all men stand 
 
 In awe, and hearts with wisdom shall grow soft. 
 
 The seal of immortality he holds, 
 
 And change into enduring presence moulds. 
 
 82
 
 T, 
 
 THE RIPENING OF LOVE 
 
 (To E.) 
 
 HE fruitful, even continuity 
 Of her rich life surrounded in a throng 
 Of tokens, with a grave felicity, 
 Her presence as she rose to welcome me 
 And silently advanced. Ah! love, what song 
 
 Could hold the treasures of that silence, ever? 
 Her constant eyes were on me, calm, intent, 
 Sounding the deepest sources of endeavor. 
 She had the vision incorrupt which never 
 Needed to scan the path of precedent, 
 
 Paved with remorse, deep-scarred with compromise; 
 
 But parted good from evil by the test 
 
 Of her own substance. Thus she held mine eyes. 
 
 Summoning virtue that enduring lies 
 
 Beneath the fiery tumult of the quest 
 
 Of passion, as the mountain ranges bide 
 Through the brief fury of a thunder cloud. 
 She laid her hands in mine and pacified 
 Desire, joining the patient, pulsing tide, 
 The sweetness, of her strength to what was proud 
 
 83
 
 And harsh in mine. She softly brought the bloom 
 Of tenderness upon it, forcing nought, 
 Holding aloft each moment, giving room 
 For the full flood of graces to illume 
 Our being, as one holds a jewel wrought 
 
 With priceless skill, to yield supremacy 
 
 To all its fires. She spoke and moved and shone 
 
 In her ripe gladness of simplicity, 
 
 Crowning avowals with the integrity 
 
 Of just restraints; not the reserves that own 
 
 Tense-lidded doubt, inferior knowingness, 
 Which palter at forestalling in a show 
 Of wisdom; but the chaste unwillingness 
 To let the insensate foot of covetousness 
 Harry the just pace of attainment. Slow 
 
 And gradual as nature was the unfolding 
 
 Of depth on depth. There was no conscious sense 
 
 Of eager proffering, anxious withholding, 
 
 But passionate sobriety of moulding 
 
 Each pregnant moment ere it hurried hence 
 
 Into enduring presence. I did own, 
 And with rapt senses garner, marveling 
 And all uncoveting, the grace that shone 
 From every look and feature, turn and tone, 
 The concord of her being; treasuring 
 
 84
 
 The purest substance of felicity. 
 
 Thus each delight was love s full-ripened fruit, 
 
 By pure hands taken from the Sacred Tree; 
 
 Each joined into a clearer harmony 
 
 The sweetest influences at its root; 
 
 And each gave forth a radiant augury 
 
 Of love s e er richer continuity. 
 
 85
 
 UNDER THE RAINBOW ARCH 
 
 U, 
 
 NDER the rainbow arch of ardent dreams 
 She stood, a smile with crystal drops at war 
 Upon her cheek, and on her brow, the gleams 
 Of light now mounting high, now shadowed o er. 
 
 I halted in amaze, and suddenly 
 
 I saw no war, for every drop of woe 
 
 But multiplied that purest radiancy, 
 
 And every shadow mounting turned to glow. 
 
 86
 
 LOVE 
 
 A 
 
 BURNING minute twixt the sombre hours, 
 A flash that rends the chain of sober wants, 
 A tender melting under vernal showers, 
 A harsh compulsion that no respite grants 
 
 Sprung of desire, begetting fresh desire, 
 Forever bedded twixt the thorns of longing, 
 Life s boons consuming in a greedy fire, 
 That more and ever more may issue thronging 
 
 With tireless sense caressing every grace, 
 Yet doomed to slay his dearest for the fruit, 
 Forever nursing future happiness 
 By hacking at the present cherished root 
 
 Proud of his infinite sufficiency, 
 Yet humbly beggared at the sacred shrine, 
 The burdens seeking of his ministry, 
 Or high or low, with a regard divine 
 
 Life planting in the very core of death, 
 Heeding nor past nor future, fixing time 
 Upon the present fire-laden breath, 
 Fulfilment finding in a faith sublime 
 
 Love hath his empire above right and wrong, 
 Passion or ebbing powers, mercy or wrath. 
 His sum is more than all affections throng, 
 And far beyond our charting lies his path. 
 
 87
 
 DEAD WISDOM 
 
 I 
 
 HAVE fathomed all and now my soul is dead. 
 I know my soul and thine, I do not hate, 
 Nor love; nor grieve for things that never come 
 Or mock from the safe refuge of Too Late; 
 Nor garner winged graces that from head 
 And heart will flash; nor feed the last stale crumb 
 Left on the board of Hope, to Faith grown numb. 
 I can forgive and smile, and bow to Fate; 
 I understand: and now my soul is dead. 
 
 I have seen each part, and now my soul is blind. 
 I see the thing that guides the tenderest hand, 
 The mad, machinal thing that holds the threads 
 Binding each mighty impulse, each demand 
 Of love and passion wilful as the wind, 
 Serfs to some law-adjusted clod. And shreds 
 Is the brave fabric of my life, and sherds 
 My full-globed, crystal spirit. I understand; 
 I have seen each part: and now my soul is blind. 
 
 I know the law, and now my soul is stark. 
 
 I hear the great winds falling on the tent 
 
 Of thine awed soul, and know they are naught but winds, 
 
 And how they come and go. I know the intent 
 
 Of all the voices speaking in the dark 
 
 Depths of thy soul; no baffled wonder blinds, 
 
 No lofty dread, no meek reluctance binds. 
 
 The rose is plucked, the petaled secret rent 
 
 Vanished her heart: and now my soul is stark. 
 
 88
 
 I have heard each part, and now my soul is dumb. 
 
 Thy world is quaking with the thunder call 
 
 Of a great organ flood of voices. Long 
 
 I have counted, adding voice to voice, till all 
 
 Should one by one fulfill the final sum 
 
 Of flawless message, rout the old spectral wrong, 
 
 As weak as shadows, and as shadows strong. 
 
 Spent syllables of a great anthem fall 
 
 Upon my counting: and my soul is dumb. 
 
 For in my soul, by all its fibres fed, 
 
 A Stony-Eyed One stares, and picks, and grins, 
 
 Till each Dream-Angel is a tattered whim, 
 
 Each Presence but a shade; and Might-Have-Beens 
 
 Upon a waste their Harpy-measures tread. 
 
 And I look deep, my gaze transfixes him; 
 
 But past him grins another, and in dim 
 
 Vistas behind each one, another grins 
 
 Fiends, phantom-mirrored, when the soul is dead. . 
 
 89
 
 REGENERATION 
 
 o 
 
 UT of the night of blank despair 
 A new hope kindles into birth 
 Rises a star on its constant path 
 Out of the cup of the empty earth. 
 
 Starts a prescient rustle of leaves 
 Out of a dull and stagnant air 
 Up from the nerveless sloth of defeat 
 Fountains of strength spring everywhere. 
 
 Ranks of the brave winds onward press, 
 Legions of light are upon the way 
 The bottomless pit of deeds fordone 
 Is the womb of the deeds of a larger day. 
 
 90
 
 DISCOURSES
 
 A 
 
 FRIENDSHIP 
 
 WANTON attachment is as a hot, fierce tempest; 
 a fever and a trouble, an overthrow and a flood, 
 a lavishness and a rankness, 
 and a sadness of devastation at the last. 
 
 But a true friend appeareth as a clearing cloud 
 after days of heaviness and darkness, 
 shining upon the hilltop. 
 
 His coming is as a mountain stream; 
 
 a shouting of gladness and a leaping of unwasted 
 strength. 
 
 His presence, a draught from a mountain spring; 
 a cool freshness, a purity, and a renewal. 
 
 And his passing, as the passing of a fruitful day; 
 
 sad, not with the sadness of regret or emptiness 
 
 or vain desires, 
 
 but with the golden longings of hope, 
 the resignation of fulfilment, 
 and the sweetness of memories. 
 
 93
 
 RIGHTEOUSNESS AND PITY 
 
 not thy pity rule over thy righteousness, 
 lest she nurse robbers 
 while their victim perish for want of care; 
 Nor let her look askance at justice, 
 
 lest thy children learn to despise virtue. 
 
 Give pity and care to the weak, 
 
 but do not turn thy back on the strong, 
 lest strength become a reproach. 
 
 Take weakness to thy bosom, 
 
 but set thine heart on perfection. 
 
 The plea of pity is soft and unchanging, 
 but righteousness speaks laboriously 
 and with discernment. 
 
 The portion of pity is ready and abundant, 
 
 but righteousness sits upon the bench of neglect, 
 eating the crust of ill favor. 
 
 Pity walks in the shining robes of approval, 
 but to righteousness is cast 
 the loathsome garment of the niggard. 
 
 Righteousness, alone, bears fruit that does not ripen, 
 
 Pity, alone, bears corruption; 
 
 But together, they bring forth the fulness of virtue. 
 
 94
 
 PSYCHE 
 
 J.N the innermost heart of the Ages Thou dwellest, 
 Psyche: 
 
 Part dragging forms uncouth, outgrown,- decaying, 
 
 Part taking forms beginning to shape in vague, 
 chaotic travail; 
 
 Part conscious of a will self-set against a world of hostile 
 
 influences, 
 
 Part meekly subject to demonic powers wearing the 
 blazon of Fate; 
 
 Part lustful, casting guilty glances beneath the lifting veil, 
 Part chaste, austere, consecrated to one creative 
 purpose; 
 
 Part haggard with creature fears of extinction, 
 Part radiant with the heroism of martyrs; 
 
 Loving all that live on earth, for the eager part thou hast 
 
 in them, 
 
 Yet loathing them for the sluggish part they have in 
 thee; 
 
 Part tired, heartsick with the labor of the path behind 
 1 thee, and the dread of the unending path 
 
 before thee, 
 
 Part thrilling, buoyant, with the certain knowledge 
 of thine infinite sufficiency; 
 
 95
 
 Part overproud with intimations of the triumphs before 
 
 thee, 
 
 Part overhumble with the burden of the sloth of the 
 Ages upon thee; 
 
 Part trembling with the terror of things that are yet dark, 
 Part confident with a faith deeper than knowledge; 
 
 More incorruptible and relentless to the soft encroach 
 ments of decay than the surgeon s steel, 
 More warm and mothering to every surge of life 
 than the spring sun; 
 
 More tender and shrinking than the feelers of the snail, 
 More inexorable than the force that drove up the 
 mountains from the plains, and the islands 
 through the ocean; 
 
 More unstable than the wind because thou followest a 
 
 law more remote than the wind, 
 More steadfast than the polar star because thou 
 hadst part in the setting of the polar star 
 in its place; 
 
 Incessantly troubled without, 
 Incessantly troubled within; 
 
 Changing incessantly as the thunder cloud, 
 
 Moving incessantly as the shadow on the dial; 
 
 96
 
 Dim, beclouded, marred without, 
 
 Yet transfused with a beauty within, as a murky 
 glass with a light within. 
 
 Unstable, fleeting, evanescent without, 
 
 Yet transfigured with a constancy within, as a gar 
 ment tormented by the wind, with a shape 
 within; 
 
 Thou monstrous vessel of the Labor of God, 
 Thou monstrous, swelling bud of the Soul of Man. 
 
 97
 
 I 
 
 CLAMOR 
 
 F thou suspect wrong do not join them that clamor, 
 but uncover the ground of wrong. 
 
 Clamor dulls the ear of equity and distracts the eye 
 
 of just reckoning, 
 And the unjust are sheltered in distraction 
 
 as in a cloud. 
 
 Clamor looks jealously at his neighbor s lips 
 
 and not at the hidden ways where evil walks in 
 security. 
 
 Clamor flies above the house tops 
 
 while the root of evil descends into the ground 
 of obscurity. 
 
 The life of Clamor is nine days, 
 
 But an evil thrives nine hundred years. 
 
 9g
 
 SYMPATHY 
 
 (To P. D.) 
 
 c 
 
 OAID one to him who had lost his dearest on earth: 
 "Thou hast lost all; pity, O, pity! Thy life is desolate 
 and laid waste, thou art as a tree blasted by lightening." 
 
 And he turned and answered: "If this sorrow cannot 
 nourish the roots of my life, if this living presence cannot 
 purify and renew me; if this sweetness of memories can 
 not give increase of wisdom, lovingkindness, and strength, 
 then it were better I had not lived to know her." 
 
 O! destroyers whose speech is a worm that hollows the 
 root of virtue, whose blessing is a blight powdering the 
 core of strength, and whose tenderness is a languor cor 
 rupting the fibres of the will, a rust eating the temper of 
 the sword, a wilting, and a decay: 
 
 Sympathy does not walk with her head turned backward, 
 nor with her eyes lowered and dim, but with a level 
 gaze set toward the things to come through a mist 
 of tears, even as amidst the mountains one sees the 
 kindling of dawn flying from crest to crest fronting 
 toward the sun; 
 
 She is not an echo of the moaning of thy weakness, 
 But her voice is a battle cry at the dawn;
 
 She is not a gloom shape walking in the robe of the night 
 
 of thy despair, 
 But a guiding light upon a dark and dangerous path; 
 
 She is not a staff to lean upon, making thee forget the 
 
 pride of thy strength, 
 
 But an overseer setting thee tasks according to thy 
 power; 
 
 She does not wait upon thy footsteps when they drag 
 
 wearily, 
 But strideth before thee, an example of courage; 
 
 She is more wise than pity, teaching thee to overcome 
 
 She does not dishonor thy grief with smooth phrases, 
 nor sicken the soul of sorrow with a glut 
 of sweetness; 
 
 She is not selfish, making a feast for herself out of thine 
 affliction; nor besotted with the lust of 
 woe, 
 
 But austere, casting the furnishings of indulgence 
 out of the chamber of thy grief, teaching 
 thee restraint; 
 
 She is not a nurse smoothing the pillow under a nerveless 
 
 head, 
 
 But stern as a man that espouseth necessity, making 
 her fruitful, the mother of exalted deeds; 
 
 tto
 
 She is not as a courtezan, making up a bed of luxury out 
 of sorrow and throwing the coverlet of 
 vain longings over men, sapping their 
 vigor with a barren passion, 
 
 But a chaste comrade of the spirit, a fellow pilgrim 
 in the desert, a seeker for the Holy City 
 of Enduring Love. 
 
 She summoneth strength out of bereavement, and hope 
 out of that which is absent. 
 
 As dawn out of the womb of darkness, understanding 
 cometh out of sore distress, and loving- 
 kindness out of the bitterness of trial; 
 
 Out of calamity cometh an increase of gladness and out 
 of desolation a rich harvest of wisdom. 
 
 The Temple of the Spirit is raised upon pillars of adversity. 
 
 101
 
 MORNING 
 
 j ^/ET us cast away old tales, beloved, with joy on their 
 
 lips and despair in their hearts, 
 That cunningly steal the strength of our mornings and 
 
 bury it beyond the bar of dead ages. 
 
 It is again the First Morning, and the First Men 
 
 have arisen, 
 
 With wreaths upon their heads, 
 Their eyes aglow with the splendors of waking. 
 
 The air is as a clapping of hands and a multitude of voices, 
 And Joy is rising upon the wings of morning. 
 
 The great far mountains are facing the First Sun, 
 
 A blue, transfigured host, 
 
 With rosy garlands upon their heads. 
 
 Heaviness falls away as a rain cloud breaks from the 
 
 hill side, 
 And the imaginings of anxiety vanish utterly. 
 
 The flush of waking is on our cheeks, 
 Our brows are unmarked by the footsteps of sorrow, 
 And illumined by a brightness of spirits unacquainted 
 with defeat. 
 
 102
 
 Our feet are shod with courage, 
 Our bodies unmarred by burdens, 
 And our countenances, by the debasements of 
 covetousness and fear. 
 
 And we know, beloved, that purity flows forever 
 
 from the bosom of morning, 
 And the fountain of gladness springs forevermore. 
 
 103
 
 EPIGRAMS
 
 NAME NOT; EVOKE! 
 
 .S from her vine-clad casement leans 
 His dearest to an ardent youth, 
 The poet s meaning speaks from screens 
 Of spirit-tended, golden blooth. 
 
 If called by name, it will withdraw; 
 But bruise a flower, tis fled away. 
 Name not; evoke! This is the law: 
 Keep fair its bower, and it must stay. 
 
 107
 
 I 
 
 INNER RICHES 
 (To M. D.) 
 
 S life so poor it cannot satisfy 
 The spirit s needs, nor ever give release, 
 Nor in its fulness come and bid me cry: 
 Now art thou perfect. Stay! I am at peace ?"- 
 
 Is life so rich, friend, that its fairest gift 
 Yet wakes thy spirit to a fairer need; 
 And all its greatness dwindles to a shift 
 To dower thy purpose for a greater deed? 
 
 108
 
 SPONTANEITY 
 
 T, 
 
 HY first intention, not thine idle drift; 
 Thy vision s first form, not its readiest shift; 
 Thy being s motion and integrity; 
 Thy best, not waste, is spontaneity. 
 
 109
 
 THE "SOBER-MINDED" 
 
 1 HE 
 
 droop of man, but not his upward urge, 
 His ebb of purpose, not his onward surge, 
 His handicap, and not his forward course: 
 The waste you blaze, but not the inward force. 
 
 110
 
 THE TORY 
 
 T 
 
 J. HY gaze is fixed, and fixed and worn thy ways, 
 Thy days are prenticed to thy yesterdays; 
 For thee the inward morrows wake in vain 
 The molding impulse and the shaping strain. 
 
 Ill
 
 THE REACTIONARY 
 
 T< 
 
 ODAY S a rebel, to thy backward gaze, 
 Against thy hoar and holy yesterdays; 
 Yet while for greater morrows it rebels, 
 Thy yesterday s true heritage it swells. 
 
 112
 
 AN ORGAN OF PRIVILEGE 
 
 N. 
 
 O great cause struggling upward had thy hand, 
 Nor great-heart leader ever lacked thy thorn; 
 Nor ever rose true prophet in the land, 
 But thou didst nail him to a cross of scorn. 
 
 Yet hast thou faith? Thy faith stares from the throng 
 Of sleek immaculates in a club s bays. 
 And charity? Aye, to paint fair the wrong 
 Of them that walk the past, unvisioned ways. 
 
 Thy lights Ah! thou dost shine are stabbing sneers; 
 Thine ardors, scoffs; thy motions, bare-toothed fears. 
 
 113
 
 THE RESPECTABLES 
 
 A 
 
 L YE, to be sure, you favor the good cause. 
 As for its leader, fie! he has some flaws. 
 And so you sulk unless you each may clip 
 The wings and talons of his leadership. 
 
 114
 
 THE "PRACTICAL PEOPLE" 
 
 E strive with evil how we lash and smite !- 
 Provided it be plain in all men s sight; 
 Meantime, we lash and smite an hundred-fold 
 Him that makes haste to drag it from its hold. 
 
 115
 
 THE MAN OF PRECEDENT 
 
 A 
 
 BELL buoy anchored on a charted reef, 
 Ding-dong kept many an honest craft from grief. 
 Torn from its place, through foul and fair-ways wide 
 Ding-dong it wags with every wind and tide. 
 
 116
 
 THE INSECT 
 
 H 
 
 .E lived the sheer decrees of jaw and sex, 
 Immune from motions that defeat and vex; 
 Sans growth waste mirth, sans pity, vision-free, 
 Armored in absolute efficiency. 
 
 : ll/
 
 DOLLAR EFFICIENCY 
 
 H 
 
 .IS heart ticks fie, if ever it should beat! 
 Virtue s a loose-leaf ledger, vision trash, 
 Honor a patent register of cash, 
 And immortality a balance sheet. 
 
 118
 
 UNVISIONED 
 
 A HE pins in every paper he could tell, 
 The seeds in every package counted well, 
 Yet saw no morrow springing from to-day, 
 Nor morrow s fingers working new array. 
 
 119
 
 BOURGEOIS-ART 
 
 o, 
 
 N wind-broke, cudgeled Impulse put a patch 
 Entitled: "Service to Society," 
 Then hitch him with the good mare Penny-catch, 
 To draw the cart of huckster poesy. 
 
 120
 
 IN EARLY NECESSITY SHIRKED, 
 LATE DELINQUENCY LURKED 
 
 L 
 
 rET not late prudence bid compassion halt, 
 Lest all thy tenderness be thy reproach; 
 But let stout equity thine impulse coach, 
 Lest thy late need be reckoned thy default. 
 
 121
 
 WANWISDOM 
 
 ILL wise at last! Thy reason has subdued 
 All frolic, largess, spontaneities. 
 How high it flames ! How pure! How single-hued! 
 So fire, its substance spent, leaps once and dies. 
 
 122
 
 MOCK-KINDNESS 
 
 ALTHOUGH you hold me wrong, you ne er gainsay, 
 Nor ever chide me though my fault be plain, 
 Nor set me right; but, sparing me, shirk pain 
 Which, growing twixt us, turns regard away. 
 
 123
 
 EXTRAVAGANCE 
 
 Ti 
 
 HOU rt poor with random scores of every kind, 
 Thy purse s whims, thy haste s indifferent toys; 
 While thy poor neighbor with a princely mind, 
 A thousand proving, wins the one, most choice. 
 
 124
 
 DUTIES, OPPORTUNITIES, DESIRES 
 
 HREE are the stewards of thy life s domain: 
 Thy duties, opportunities, desires, 
 Each proudly heedless of the other twain, 
 Each keen to minister the spirit s fires. 
 
 Give each his task and time and right degree: 
 They will join hands, with song and right content, 
 To work thy peace and continuity 
 And make thee master of thy life s intent. 
 
 But let sloth blunt or softness bend thy rule: 
 They make a quarrel of life s harmony, 
 Of every impulse thee the hapless tool, 
 A fret and bustle of thine energy. 
 
 125
 
 POWER, ENDURANCE, ECONOMY 
 
 HESE are the captains of the King, Success, 
 Three: Power, Endurance, and Economy. 
 Each formerly had served the wretch, Distress. 
 Power, reckless of slow-nerved resource and thrift, 
 Shattered, before it fully shaped, its gift; 
 Endurance was a dull and drooping fag, 
 Economy a sightless, barren hag. 
 Each strove with each, one fled another s press, 
 Till, joined, they yoked their strife in harmony. 
 
 126
 
 A CYCLE 
 
 L.NCESTOR made a law and was its slave; 
 Heir mastered it and righteous freedom gave; 
 His heir, at freedom starting, folly found, 
 Whence sprang the law the next ancestor bound. 
 
 127
 
 
 
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