UC-NRLF 
 
 SB 273 E7S 
 

 LIBRARY 
 
 OF THE 
 
 UNIVERSITY OF CALIFORNIA. 
 
 Cla&s 
 
REED NOTES 
 
 BY 
 
 BLANCHE M. BURBANK 
 
 XV 
 ( V:,, 
 
 SAN FRANCISCO 
 
 A. M. ROBERTSON 
 
 1903 
 
COPYRIGHT, 1903 
 BLANCHE M. BURBANK 
 
 THE MURDOCH PRESS 
 
TO MT CHILDREN 
 
CONTENTS 
 
 PAGE 
 
 NOTES II 
 
 AN EASTER OFFERING 13 
 
 IN POPPY FIELDS . 14 
 
 SINGING IN THE RAIN 15 
 
 MARCH 16 
 
 TO KEATS 17 
 
 APRIL l8 
 
 NATURE S MUSIC 20 
 
 THE COMING OF THE MAY 22 
 
 EAGLE ROCK 23 
 
 GOING TO THE SUMMER SCHOOL 24 
 
 A SIGH 26 
 
 UNDER THE LEAVES 27 
 
 IN THE CANYON 28 
 
 PRESAGE 29 
 
 TO A FRIEND 30 
 
 MAGNOLIA 31 
 
CONTENTS 
 
 OCTOBER 32 
 
 AN AUTUMN ROSE 33 
 
 THE FIRST SNOW 34 
 
 INSPIRATION 35 
 
 LANDLOCKED 35 
 
 HOW VAIN is LIFE! 36 
 
 NOT PEACE, NOT WAR 37 
 
 A YELLOW BUTTERFLY 3 
 
 LIFE S CROWN 39 
 
 LITTLE THINGS 4 
 
 TO GRACE 41 
 
 HEREAFTER 42 
 
 TWO VIEWS OF DEATH 43 
 
 THE DAISIES OF THE FIELD 44 
 
 RECLAMATION 45 
 
 ROSES AND FERNS 46 
 
 THE MASTER HAND 47 
 
 AMBITION 48 
 
 THE ROSE OF YESTERDAY 49 
 
 THE TRUE CONQUEROR 5 
 
 CONSTANCY . 51 
 
 8 
 
CONTENTS 
 
 TOO YOUNG TO DIE 52 
 
 LAYING THE CORNER-STONE 54 
 
 ACHIEVEMENT 56 
 
 SNOWFLAKES 57 
 
 SLUMBER SONG 58 
 
 LOVE IN AGE 60 
 
 DEEDS 6l 
 
 MOTHER NATURE 62 
 
REED NOTES 
 
 SWEETER than song of a bird, 
 
 Softer than murmuring rain, 
 Like exquisite melody heard 
 
 When the heart is overflowing with pain, 
 In a forest of dreaming, my spirit is stirred 
 
 By the Muse s ceolian strain. 
 
 And when in a rapture I wake, 
 And follow on blindly, like Pan, 
 
 That ravishing music o er mountain and 
 
 brake, 
 Which ever the fleetest outran, 
 
 Despairing, I seize a poor reed and I make 
 Such music, for love, as I can. 
 
AN EASTER OFFERING 
 
 A LII,Y watched I through the Lenten-tide, 
 From when its emerald sheath first pierced the mold. 
 I saw its satin blades uncurl, unfold, 
 And ever upward stretch with yearning wide 
 Toward the great sky. At length, the leaves beside, 
 There came a flower beauteous to behold. 
 Breathing of purest joy and peace untold, 
 Its radiance filled the Easter altar-side. 
 
 And in my heart there rose a sense of shame 
 That I, alas, no precious gift had brought 
 Which could approach the splendor of this thing, 
 I who so long had borne the Master s name ! 
 Humbly I bowed, while meek Repentance wrought 
 With silent tears her chastened offering. 
 
IN POPPY FIELDS 
 
 O WONDERFUL golden treasure! 
 
 O wealth of the sun and dew ! 
 Where Phoebus drives for pleasure 
 
 All day his chariot through; 
 
 Where the lark sings ever for gladness, 
 Between the blue and the gold, 
 
 Where is no room left for sadness, 
 And sorrow finds no foothold. 
 
 O bird mid the poppies singing, 
 Thy wings on the nest afold, 
 
 If we knew but how to be bringing 
 Golden song to a nest of gold ! 
 
 O lark singing high in the heaven, 
 
 O lark, if we only knew 
 That sunshine is love s best leaven, 
 
 Our song might ring pure and true! 
 
SINGING IN THE RAIN 
 
 IN the gray of April morning 
 Sang the bluebird in the rain. 
 
 Though the skies were dark with warning 
 Poured he forth a merry strain; 
 
 Spite of all the stormy weather, 
 
 And in spite of dampened feather, 
 Gayly singing in the rain. 
 
 From a joyous heart upwelling, 
 Sang the minstrel in the rain; 
 
 Sang he to the young buds swelling 
 On the lilac bush again, 
 
 Sang he of the sunny weather, 
 
 Days and days of it together, 
 That would follow after rain. 
 
 Brief the lay, then off he darted, 
 But the song was not in vain; 
 
 All day long its echoes started, 
 Thrilling heart and soothing brain, 
 
 Till in spite of stormy weather, 
 
 Days and days of it together, 
 Sang my heart, too, in the rain ! 
 
MARCH 
 
 roisterer neath heaven s tempestuous arch ! 
 Earth hath no lover half so fierce as thee. 
 Yet, if thou deem st that such wild minstrelsy 
 Of weird tunes piped through plaintive pine and 
 
 larch 
 Can win her smiles, then art thou mad, O March ! 
 
 For thou hast moods as soft as summer s smile, 
 And gentle airs, and warm relenting days 
 With which to woo thy Phyllis mid green ways ; 
 A wreath of violets to bestow awhile, 
 And crocus cups of nectar to beguile. 
 
 16 
 
TO KEATS 
 
 O KEATS ! Thy very name is like a breath 
 To conjure all the ecstasy of spring; 
 The opening musk-rose, birds on joyous wing, 
 And violet banks where young Love languisheth. 
 Poet of Spring! Thy fancy s shibboleth 
 Unlocks a charm not May alone can bring. 
 Still, still thy matchless nightingale doth sing 
 In some bright empyrean unswept of death! 
 
 As some pale watcher of the midnight skies 
 Sees one by one the glowing stars grow dim, 
 And fade from sight beneath the horizon s marge ; 
 So Earth beheld thy star of genius rise, 
 Take its brief course, then like a planet swim 
 Forth into space, illimitable, large. 
 
APRIL 
 
 O SINGER in the sunshine, 
 
 O warbler neath the eaves! 
 What is it in the springtime 
 
 That both delights and grieves? 
 One moment past fair April smiled, 
 
 Now violet eyes are wet. 
 O, tell me ere my heart s beguiled, 
 
 If she s a sad coquette ! 
 
 O, yonder in the orchard 
 
 Bird-song and budding boughs, 
 And yonder in the meadow 
 
 Are happy hopes that house; 
 And never once the music stops 
 
 In sunshine or in rain, 
 That liquid song like balsam drops 
 
 Into this heart of pain. 
 
 18 
 
APRIL 
 
 O singer in the sunshine, 
 
 O warbler neath the eaves! 
 My heart s beset with hopes and fears 
 
 This springtime weather weaves. 
 One moment past my fair one smiled, 
 
 Now violet eyes are wet. 
 O, teach me since my heart s beguiled 
 
 To sing too, and forget! 
 
NATURE S MUSIC 
 
 HARKEN to the elfin music 
 
 Of the merry little rills, 
 With a tinkle and a gurgle 
 
 As they hurry down the hills, 
 Purling over mossy pebbles, 
 
 Forming miniature cascades, 
 Dashing over rocky ledges, 
 
 Murmuring softly through the glades ; 
 Theirs is a happy cadence 
 
 That no mortal tongue can learn, 
 Though the waters have been singing 
 
 Since the world began to turn. 
 
 And what ear can catch the measure 
 
 That the fairy flowers ring, 
 As the south wind gently sways them 
 
 To the dancing feet of Spring? 
 
 20 
 
NATURE S MUSIC 
 
 Or the singing of the forest 
 
 When the minstrel of the breeze 
 Tunes his wizard harp seolian 
 
 In the summits of the trees: 
 These are melodies too subtile 
 
 To affect a mortal ear. 
 Their diviner, finer music 
 
 Only listening hearts may hear. 
 
 21 
 
THE COMING OF THE MAY 
 
 HAVE you heard the bluebells ringing 
 When the gentle South goes straying, 
 Like a love-lorn piper playing 
 Through the lonely woodland way? 
 Have you heard the fairies singing 
 In and out among the flowers 
 As they work between the showers 
 On a fickle April day? 
 
 How they fly, those nimble fingers! 
 All the cloudy scenery shifting, 
 All the drooping flowers lifting, 
 Brushing every tear away; 
 Till within the wood there lingers 
 Not a trace of April s sadness, 
 All is sunshine, joy and gladness 
 For the bonny First of May. 
 
 22 
 
\ 
 
 X 
 
 EAGLE ROCK 
 
 I KNOW a charmed valley where expands 
 The rose in bright perennial blossoming, 
 Where mockingbirds melodious magic sing, 
 And orchards lift White fragrant happy hands. 
 And in the midst of these Arcadian lands, 
 As poised for flight, yet vainly lingering 
 Against its will, like some enchanted thing 
 Long turned to stone, a huge gray eagle stands. 
 
 Perchance old Perseus with the Gorgon s head 
 
 Surprised this bird with giant wings outspread, 
 
 And so forever by these western seas 
 
 A prisoner of the gods no more he roves, 
 
 Guarding new treasures of Hesperides 
 
 Hung mid the verdurous gloom of orange-groves. 
 
GOING TO THE SUMMER SCHOOL 
 
 WHERE the tall sweet meadow-grass 
 Mingles with the snowy daisies, 
 And the flitting swallows pass 
 Close above their tangled mazes; 
 Through the shady woodland cool 
 Where the early pinxters wake, 
 Lay the path I used to take 
 Going to the summer school. 
 
 Up the hill where orchard trees 
 Stood neath loaded branches groaning, 
 Down the hollow where the bees 
 Mid the berry vines went droning; 
 Past the lurking tempting pool 
 Fringed with cattail, rush, and brake, 
 Led the path I used to take 
 Going to the summer school. 
 
 What reluctant, lagging feet 
 Dragged I to my daily learning, 
 Lured to chase some creature fleet 
 For its winged freedom yearning; 
 
 24 
 
GOING TO THE SUMMER SCHOOL 
 
 Oft the master s birchen rule 
 Had no power the spell to break 
 Of the winding way I d take 
 Going to the summer school. 
 
 How I envied birds and bees 
 And the squirrels in the hedges, 
 While the truant summer breeze 
 Played among the tuneful sedges! 
 To the plaintive catbird s mewl 
 Mocking answer I would make, 
 Vexed that I must needs forsake 
 Pleasure for the pent-up school. 
 
 " When I grow to be a man 
 
 I 11 consult my own sweet pleasure." 
 
 Many times I made this plan 
 
 Ah, those youthful dreams of leisure! 
 
 Father Time, whose iron rule 
 
 Doth no laggard steps await, 
 
 Teaches us or soon or late 
 
 Life is one long summer school. 
 
A SIGH 
 
 O FOR the olden days, 
 
 The olden days and golden, 
 
 When life looked out on the flowery ways 
 
 That lost themselves in the rainbow haze 
 
 Of a future that now is olden. 
 
 O to inhale again 
 
 The rapturous breath of the morning, 
 When young Love led by a daisy chain 
 Our willing hearts to his bright domain; 
 Then fled with no word of warning. 
 
 Alas that the flowers of spring 
 Bloom not in bleak December; 
 That Time, who forever is on the wing, 
 Robs us of joy but leaves the sting, 
 Which is that we remember! 
 
 26 
 
UNDER THE LEAVES 
 
 INTO the lap of the bare brown earth, 
 Stripped of her beautiful golden sheaves, 
 
 As if in sympathy for her dearth, 
 Flutter and nestle the autumn leaves. 
 
 And the lonely landscape hides away 
 
 Her face deep-lined with sad decay 
 Under the leaves ! 
 
 Down from the tall old forest trees, 
 
 The leafy showers gently fall, 
 And, taking the wings of the passing breeze, 
 
 Softly they cover the earth like a pall. 
 Ah, would that we the past might fold 
 Of blighted hopes and dreams untold 
 Under the leaves! 
 
 Under the leaves of the flying years, 
 O strive, thou weary soul, to lay 
 
 The care and sorrow, the bitter tears, 
 The dreary burden of yesterday; 
 
 Away deep down in the heart s recess, 
 
 Under the leaves of forgetfulness, 
 Under the leaves! 
 
IN THE CANYON 
 
 BRAVE with wild asters, clothed in chaparral, 
 Beauteous with Autumn s lavish store, 
 With moss-hung oak, and tasseled sycamore, 
 Gray eucalyptus, and green chamisal, 
 The canyon flings wide-open doors to all. 
 Her walls shut out old Ocean s ceaseless roar, 
 Shut out the desolate stretch of sandy shore. 
 I enter, and all worldly burdens fall. 
 
 The present holds me in its dreamy spell, 
 
 The past no longer calls me like the sea. 
 
 The spirit of the canyon sets me free! 
 
 Care s voice is hushed, no rankling memories tell 
 
 Of future tasks. On Time s remotest rim 
 
 They loom like distant mountains gray and dim. 
 
 28 
 
PRESAGE 
 
 SEPTEMBER in a warning mood 
 Has hung a signal in the wood, 
 A maple branch as red as blood. 
 
 Earth s grief, like Rachel s, soon will sound 
 Through naked boughs, a wail profound 
 For her dead children of the ground. 
 
 29 
 
TO A FRIEND 
 
 WHEN words are dumb, and music fails to reach 
 The springs whence Nature s deep emotions start, 
 
 Then comes the finer gift of floral speech, 
 Which ever speaks directly to the heart. 
 
 So when to-day your roses came to me, 
 With friendly message and a sweet surprise, 
 
 Their fragrant whispers stirred the memory 
 And bade a train of happy musings rise. 
 
 Wherefore, dear friend, I thank you for these blooms 
 Which so much brightness in this day have wrought 
 
 With brilliant hues and delicate perfumes ; 
 
 But more I thank you for your kindly thought. 
 
MAGNOLIA 
 
 THOU hast beauty s peerless form, 
 Regal grace, and stately pose, 
 
 But thou lackest, dear, the warm, 
 Tender passion of the rose. 
 
 Lofty in thy proud disdain, 
 
 Birds and bees may come and go; 
 
 Love finds not his sweet domain 
 In thy gleaming breast of snow. 
 
 And when Hesperus nightly throws 
 Twinkling kisses to the flowers, 
 
 Calm thy bosom s white repose 
 Through the lonely star-lit hours. 
 
OCTOBER 
 
 How sweet to wander in the pleasant breeze, 
 Where wild grapes purple in the mellow sun, 
 And ripened nuts drop softly one by one; 
 While from the sumac s crimson canopies 
 The wood-thrush pipes his parting melodies! 
 Yet through the brilliant web the autumn weaves 
 Full many a somber thread the eye perceives, 
 And her bland breath is full of prophecies. 
 
 So loved October dons her garments gay, 
 And, veiling her sad face in golden haze, 
 Dreams to divert us by her festive guise; 
 As friends departing meet our mournful gaze 
 With smiles, and, smiling, sadly turn away, 
 Lest we shall read the anguish in their eyes. 
 
AN AUTUMN ROSE 
 
 SWEET rose of the autumn-tide, faintly she blushes, 
 Dreaming of summer upon her lone stem; 
 
 As faintly the rose-tint the cheek of age flushes 
 When fond recollection rolls up some bright gem. 
 
 Soft hid in her bosom are visions of Maytime, 
 Deep down in her heart lies the fragrance of June; 
 
 In memory yet there are echoes of playtime, 
 Though Nature is singing her lullaby tune. 
 
 Ah, priceless the beauty and joy of the morning, 
 The freshness of youth, and love s tender duress ; 
 
 But age holds a jewel of rarer adorning 
 In the calm of the spirit that lingers to bless. 
 
 33 
 
THE FIRST SNOW 
 
 WHEN wintry winds have stripped the garden bare, 
 And fields are drear and skies are overcast; 
 When naught remains of glory that is past, 
 Of leaf or flower that made the summer fair; 
 And Earth, bereft of her proud affluence rare, 
 To abject poverty is brought at last, 
 Garbed all in tatters, shivering in the blast, 
 Image of desolation and despair: 
 
 Then comes that gentle almoner, the snow, 
 And folds in ermine her unsightliness. 
 Dead flower-stalks, with soft corollas crowned, 
 Blossom once more in frigid loveliness; 
 While the still pines stand mantled in a row, 
 Like some white sisterhood to silence bound. 
 
 34 
 
INSPIRATION 
 
 TRUTH touched me, and in burning words I sought 
 To write her message, that the world might see, 
 
 When lo! upon my page an alien thought 
 In beauty was interpreted to me! 
 
 LANDLOCKED 
 
 HERE all is turmoil; breakers beat and roar, 
 The shallows fume and fret for evermore; 
 While far out on the deep and tranquil sea 
 Sail happy ships to ports of Destiny. 
 
 35 
 
HOW VAIN IS LIFE! 
 (FROM THE FRENCH) 
 
 How vain is life! 
 
 Love s slender spell, 
 Hate s futile strife, 
 
 And then, farewell. 
 
 How brief is life! 
 
 Hope s lessening light 
 With dreams is rife, 
 
 And then, good-night. 
 
NOT PEACE, NOT WAR 
 
 NOT the loud din and battle-roar which call 
 Mid martial music to the clash of arms, 
 Shall free Life s warrior from those still alarms 
 Which sound the claims of conscience unto all; 
 Nor yet shall myriad arts of peace enthrall 
 His sense secure, nor soft inaction s charms: 
 E en sleep hath dreams of vague impending harms 
 Whose shadows haunt the thoughtful interval. 
 
 Not peace, not war, but the subdued, still strife 
 Of hidden conflict twixt the right and wrong; 
 The mastery of passion; loving deeds; 
 These mark the achievements of the inner life. 
 Who conquers self may rise serene and strong 
 O er warring dogmas and the wreck of creeds. 
 
 37 
 
A YELLOW BUTTERFLY 
 
 OUT of my chrysalis came I 
 Unknowing as this butterfly, 
 Into a world to live and die. 
 
 Let me not ask, then, why nor whence 
 This throbbing interlude of sense 
 Between the unfeeling thence and hence 
 
 Content if I may dart one ray 
 Of joy athwart a dullsome day, 
 Ere I go faring on my way. 
 
LIFE S CROWN 
 
 ALL day beside the vast and shining sea 
 Life sat, and twined a wreath of varied hue; 
 Where lilies clasped the bitter, bitter rue, 
 And roses cheek to cheek lay lovingly 
 With cypress and with yew. 
 
 And all day long, with ceaseless, tireless breath, 
 Came voices from the great mysterious deep, 
 And when the shadows shoreward did creep 
 Life, binding snow-white poppies in her wreath, 
 So softly fell asleep. 
 
 Then came the shining ones far o er the sea, 
 And on her forehead laid her garland low; 
 But as they bore her to their boat s white prow, 
 Saw they sharp thorns that pressing cruelly, 
 Drew blood-drops from her brow! 
 
 39 
 
LITTLE THINGS 
 
 O THE wee little worries and commonplace woes, 
 Like the canker that eats out the heart of the rose, 
 Or the water that wears away rock as it flows, 
 They are silently bringing our lives to a close. 
 
 Not the battle-field wounds, but the tiny bee-stings, 
 The word spoken sharply that rankles and clings. 
 Not the large things of life, but the mean little things, 
 Embitter its sweetness, and poison its springs. 
 
 40 
 
TO GRACE 
 
 THINE eyes are blue as summer skies; 
 On thy young brow no shadow lies 
 
 As yet of dull and cloudy care. 
 Life s meadowlands lie cool and sweet 
 And fresh beneath thy untried feet, 
 
 And pleasures bloom like flowers fair. 
 
 Ah, may no woes in coming years 
 Thy vision dim with falling tears! 
 
 Meek as a lowly flower bends 
 Beneath its load of night-born dew, 
 
 So bow thy heart when Heaven sends 
 Some grief to prove thy spirit true; 
 
 And Break of Day shall bring to thee 
 
 Divinest benedicite. 
 
HEREAFTER 
 
 WHEN thou shalt pass that borderland unseen, 
 Where in a single softly outblown breath 
 Life renders its last hostage unto death, 
 And pays the penalty for having been; 
 When thou, my soul, neath other skies serene, 
 Shalt walk mid full fruition of thy faith 
 Where joyously the spirit reveleth 
 In the celestial beauty of the scene: 
 
 Will memory then, with grim distorted dream 
 Of this sad world where once thou toiled and wept, 
 Pierce thy bright bliss like some sharp arrow sped? 
 Or when thou tastest of Oblivion s stream, 
 Wilt wake, and never know that thou hast slept? 
 And live, and never dream thou once wert dead? 
 
 42 
 
TWO VIEWS OF DEATH 
 
 GRIM DEATH and I met vis-a-vis. 
 So near he came I felt his breath. 
 He bent his dreadful gaze on me 
 As one who, faltering, questioneth 
 If he shall smite an enemy. 
 
 He passed. And yet may come a day 
 When, weary of this toilful breath, 
 My soul will long to soar away, 
 And I shall call thee friend, O Death, 
 To break this prison-house of clay! 
 
 43 
 
THE DAISIES OF THE FIELD 
 
 WE love to scan the starry skies, 
 But day by day, unmindful, pass 
 The meadow s humble traceries, 
 The constellations of the grass: 
 
 Nor heed the gentle lesson taught 
 As meekly patient, year by year, 
 They come without our care or thought, 
 An inspiration sent to cheer. 
 
 44 
 
RECLAMATION 
 
 AMID the city s busy whirl and sweep, 
 Men haggle, cheat, and strive for sordid gold, 
 And all that life holds sweet is bought and sold, 
 And all that life holds dear is held most cheap. 
 Here the blood stagnates and the pulses creep; 
 Tired Nature never speaks out loud and bold, 
 Nor dares her better impulses unfold, 
 Imprisoned in Convention s guarded keep. 
 
 O for a voice from out the wilderness 
 Crying repentance on this narrow life! 
 Boundless the inspiration of the hills 
 The wealth of poppied fields that wait to bless; 
 Priceless the calm of valleys free from strife, 
 The joy the lowliest blade of grass instills. 
 
 45 
 
ROSES AND FERNS 
 
 THOU queen of roses, fragrant-breathed La France! 
 Emblem of love and joy, and that sweet train 
 Whose soft allurements youthful hearts enchain, 
 As when in golden heyday of Romance 
 They lent to Chivalry a charmed lance. 
 Sacred to thee the blush and bounding vein, 
 And those emotions that at Beauty s fane 
 Enshrine fair tribute with thine elegance. 
 
 Alas, like Love, thy charms too quickly fade, 
 And thy pale petals feed a nameless pain. 
 So from thy bright enchantments I would turn 
 To the green coolness of this wilding fern, 
 Whose dewy fronds recall the sylvan glade, 
 And those calm joys of friendship that remain. 
 
 46 
 
THE MASTER HAND 
 
 MY heart is a lute 
 
 Whereon who plays 
 
 With kindred feeling finds responsive strings. 
 
 To others it is mute; 
 
 While only one can wake its sweetest lays, 
 
 Or tune to sadness every song it sings. 
 
 47 
 
AMBITION 
 
 ENCHANTRESS, ever powerful, as when, 
 Enthroned upon thine ancient mountain height, 
 In mystery impenetrably bright 
 Thy voice first fell upon the ears of men, 
 To lure them to thy solitary flight! 
 Thy steeps to scale when lofty souls aspire, 
 In their mad chase each struggling to be first, 
 Thou still demandest : " Higher, ever higher ! " 
 Till trampling others in the race accurst, 
 And pressing on, thy victims grow purblind 
 And deaf to all save one intense desire. 
 Love, virtue, honor, all are left behind: 
 Yet what, dread Circe, is thy recompense, 
 Since none survives thy treacherous eminence? 
 
THE ROSE OF YESTERDAY 
 
 Each Morn a thousand Roses brings, you say ; 
 Yes, but where leaves the Rose of Yesterday f 
 
 OMAR KHAYYAM. 
 
 ADOWN the current of Time s stream, 
 So swifltly flowing on its way, 
 
 As softly, lightly as a dream 
 There floats the Rose of Yesterday. 
 
 Had we a joy that we would clasp? 
 
 Alas, upon that foaming spray 
 We see it borne beyond our grasp 
 
 To be the bride of Yesterday. 
 
 O Rose of Life! so passing sweet, 
 To clasp thee one bright fleeting day, 
 
 And feel Love s high exultant beat, 
 Thy mystic price who would not pay? 
 
 O Yesterday! so rich in fee 
 
 Of all we loved, we would not stay 
 
 Thy rushing torrent, knowing we 
 Shall soon be with thee, Yesterday! 
 
 49 
 
THE TRUE CONQUEROR 
 
 BEHOLD the victor faring from the fray 
 With haughty brow and mien, while from afar 
 Rises like incense to the gods of war 
 The smoke of ruined cities brought to bay. 
 Behold the fool who spends the little day 
 We call his life, seeking to fix his star 
 In the ascendant, striving to kill and mar, 
 And play the Caesar in his puny way. 
 
 O, not to such the waiting world looks now ! 
 She would forget the bloodshed and the tears; 
 Weary of war, she prays that carnage cease. 
 Who will arise to lead her brighter years, 
 The seal of brotherhood upon his brow, 
 And in his hand the olive branch of peace? 
 
CONSTANCY 
 
 LOVE dreamed our paths through life together lay. 
 Stern Fate the dream dispelled, and neath her sway 
 We sadly parted, and each one the way 
 
 Alone pursued. 
 
 Yet, though my feet have wandered from thee wide, 
 My swift-winged thoughts are ever at thy side, 
 Fond guardian spirits who thy steps would guide 
 
 Unto all good. 
 
 And if sometime, somewhere, in that pure sphere 
 Where sorrow is unknown, nor parting tear 
 Nor shade of separation doth appear, 
 
 Thy soul seek mine; 
 If in thy gentle spirit eyes I trace 
 A changeless love Death s power could not efface, 
 My hand in thy dear hand I 11 gladly place, 
 
 Forever thine! 
 
TOO YOUNG TO DIE 
 
 " Too young to die ! " we sometimes say 
 Of one who falls asleep before 
 
 The heat and burden of the day 
 Have proved the unequal load he bore. 
 
 " Too young to die ! " and, grieving, we, 
 Rebellious-hearted, blind of eye, 
 
 Know not the future, can not see 
 The veiled lightning cleave its sky. 
 
 Too young to die! Ah, may not death 
 The waking be to larger life, 
 
 Whose deeper meaning, freer breath 
 With opportunity is rife? 
 
 Too young to die! Perchance in truth 
 God counts not time, and if it be 
 
 The cycles of eternity 
 
 Know neither hoary age nor youth; 
 
TOO YOUNG TO DIE 
 
 What matters it what length of years 
 That each in his allotted place 
 
 With equal share of smiles and tears 
 Must measure for a little space? 
 
 What seems in vain was wisely planned, 
 And He who marks the sparrow s fall, 
 
 Dear Heart, doth hold us one and all 
 Safe in the hollow of His hand. 
 
 53 
 
LAYING THE CORNER-STONE 
 
 Written for the laying of the corner 
 stone of the Y. W. C. A. s building, 
 Oakland, California, 1892. 
 
 As the painter s dream is wrought, 
 As the sculptor s darling thought 
 
 Slowly shapens into stone; 
 So the end that we have sought 
 With a cherished purpose fraught 
 
 Real and tangible has grown. 
 
 And to-day with gladdened eyes 
 See we these foundations rise, 
 
 As with prayerful hearts we own 
 God must bless our enterprise, 
 Else, though it should touch the skies, 
 
 We were wretched and undone. 
 
 While we build against the years, 
 Mingling with our hopes our fears, 
 Build we not for time alone. 
 
 54 
 
LAYING THE CORNER-STONE 
 
 Woman s faith through woman s tears 
 Is the fabric that uprears 
 High above the corner-stone. 
 
 And the thoughtful eye may scan 
 Through the finite builder s plan, 
 
 Dealing only with the known, 
 Love and hope and faith in man 
 Bonds invisible that span 
 
 Arching o er our corner-stone. 
 
 Not in weeks or months or days 
 Spring the green rewarding bays, 
 
 And when centuries have flown 
 Still shall life s outgoing ways 
 Sing in notes of blame or praise 
 
 How we laid this corner-stone. 
 
 Humbly, then, with hymn and prayer 
 We invoke God s loving care 
 
 On the seed that we have sown. 
 Thou who numberest every hair, 
 Still our feeble hands upbear, 
 
 O be Thou our corner-stone! 
 
 55 
 
ACHIEVEMENT 
 
 LITTLE the good that I have wrought 
 
 In this brief life, and still 
 He who can read my inmost thought, 
 
 He who doth know the will, 
 Alone may judge how I have sought 
 
 Some goodness to fulfill. 
 
SNOWFLAKES 
 
 LOVE, when you and I were strolling 
 
 In the orchard long ago, 
 Apple-blossoms, softly falling, 
 
 Seemed like flakes of fragrant snow. 
 
 Now around us draws life s winter, 
 But the Fates are not unkind, 
 
 For somehow the falling snowflakes 
 Bring those apple-blooms to mind. 
 
 57 
 
SLUMBER SONG 
 
 SWEET and low 
 
 The cool winds blow, 
 The sun sinks slowly in the west, 
 
 And lowing herds 
 
 And drowsy birds 
 Proclaim the time of grateful rest. 
 
 Cool and low 
 
 The night winds blow, 
 Come launch the baby s slumber boat! 
 
 Set the white sails 
 
 To catch the gales, 
 And let him into dreamland float. 
 
 To and fro 
 
 Now rock and row, 
 As past the sandman s isle we glide. 
 
 The fine sand flies 
 
 In baby s eyes 
 Till he can scarcely ope them wide. 
 
SLUMBER SONG 
 
 So near at hand 
 
 Is that fair land 
 Whose poppy-laden breezes steep, 
 
 In soft repose 
 
 His eyelids close, 
 My babe has reached the realms of Sleep ! 
 
 59 
 
LOVE IN AGE 
 
 CLOSE as some wind-blown vine in winter clings 
 To sturdy trunk unbending in the blast; 
 
 Even so my steadfast love its tendrils flings 
 Around thy firmer nature, and holds fast. 
 
 And whether wind blows soft or tempests rage, 
 And whether skies are fair or dark above, 
 
 What matters it, since all the frosts of age 
 
 Have left untouched, unscathed our early love? 
 
 Firm knit in heart and life, we calmly wait 
 
 Heaven s harbingers of spring ; and in our dreams 
 
 Come genial airs that waft us near the Gate, 
 And thrill our spirits with resplendent gleams. 
 
 60 
 
DEEDS 
 
 NOT what we wish, but what we accomplish; 
 
 Not what we dream, but what we do; 
 Deeds are the golden rungs of the ladder 
 
 By which we climb to the ultimate true. 
 
 61 
 
MOTHER NATURE 
 
 DEAR Mother, like a tired child, some day, 
 Worn out with all this worldly greed and pride; 
 With hopes and aims like playthings tossed aside, 
 As one too weary or too weak to pray, 
 I 11 lay my head upon thy heart and say : 
 " The way was winding that my feet have tried ; 
 I ve wandered far, but now, whate er betide, 
 From thee I never more shall turn away." 
 
 Then shall I feel thine arms about me twine 
 In the soft tendrils of some creeping vine, 
 And thou wilt fold me in the evening hours 
 To sleep upon thy lap amid the flowers 
 All dreamless, and, to mark my place of rest, 
 Perchance one violet more upon thy breast. 
 
UNIVERSITY OF CALIFORNIA 
 LIBRARY 
 
 Due two weeks after date. 
 
 30m-7, 12 
 
. 
 
 YB~ 1209-