, - .X s ..,-> .-.; .x=: : ^f_f. -,
 
 THE LIBRARY 
 OF 
 
 THE UNIVERSITY 
 
 OF CALIFORNIA 
 
 LOS ANGELES
 
 Intimations of Heaven
 
 INTIMATIONS OF HEAVEN 
 AND OTHER POEMS 
 
 BY 
 
 HORACE EATON WALKER 
 
 './/* lonr/ii, i:itn lireris." 
 
 CLAKKMONT N. H. 
 GEO'. I. PUTNAM CO. 
 
 1898
 
 Entered according to Act of Congress in the year 1898, by 
 
 HORACE EATOX WALKER, 
 
 In the office of the Librarian of Congress at Washington, D. C.
 
 CONTENTS 
 
 INTIMATIONS OF HEAVEN 
 
 THE LADY OF SANTA ROSA 
 
 MY AIDENN 
 
 SONG OF THE SEA-SHELL 
 
 HELL AND HEAVEN 
 
 AMABEL 
 
 764026
 
 INTIMATIONS OF HEAVEN 
 
 1 gathered me also silver and gold, and the peculiar treas 
 ure of kings and of the provinces: 1 gat me meti singers and 
 %vomcn singers, and the delights of the sons of men, as musi 
 cal instruments, and that of all sorts. Ecclesiastes. 
 
 I. 
 
 Hear: "Vanity of vanities" ; but I : 
 
 Have profit in thy labors all thy days, 
 
 And tho' the generations pass, the lays 
 Of well-spent hours shall sing to thee. The sky 
 Shall hold the glorious sun. The winds shall dry 
 
 The earth, go to the torrid south ; the bla/e 
 
 Of suns shall blind ; but have a heart and Mays 
 Will be as lilting birds that once did My. 
 
 For in these days we need the largest hope. 
 
 Since Doubt is mountainous in all our lives; 
 
 Many today in horrid darkness grope ; 
 
 But I : As bees about their honeyed hives 
 
 Let joys flock round thy hearts. Fling doubt and stretch 
 
 The portals of thy being, doubting wretch !
 
 8 INTIMATIONS OK HEAVEN 
 
 II. 
 
 And though all streams run to the emerald sea. 
 The sea is still unfilled ; but may thy heart 
 For very gladness be o'erfilled ; and art, 
 
 And song, and merry-making be to thee 
 
 An aureole above thy life ; for glee 
 
 Is medicine to every heart. In mart. 
 
 In by-ways, and green lanes, let joys upstart. 
 
 And heaven to earth be a reality ! 
 
 The cup of gladness ; drink it to the dregs, 
 As some old bibber lost in happiness, 
 
 And every nest will have its speckled eggs 
 
 Of new delights. Put on thy wedding dress. 
 
 Regain the smiles when love first made thee bride. 
 
 Throw doubt, and sail with joy the honied tide. 
 
 III. 
 
 All things are full of labor. Bear thy load, 
 For in the doing thou shalt have delight, 
 The pressed juice of grapes will sweeten, night 
 
 With million stars shall light thee on thy road 
 
 To Edens. Happiness in thine abode 
 
 Shall wear tiaras golden, and "the light 
 Not found on sea or land," effulgent white, 
 
 Shall dome above thee, life be one long ode. 
 
 So, drink of gladness ; chase the yellow bow ; 
 
 Find bag of gold ; be happy butterflv 
 And woo the gilded glories round thee ; go 
 
 Among the clover, where the grass is high, 
 And be a lad again : the melody 
 Of nightingales be one long song to thee.
 
 INTIMATIONS OF HEAVEN 9 
 
 IV. 
 
 The thing that hath been is to be ; then love, 
 And flowery brides, and beauty, holiness 
 Of heart and soul. So, bring thy bridal dress, 
 
 And bring the crushed rose that heaved above 
 
 Thv heart at Hymen's altar; then a dove 
 Of Ararat you seemed to him, not less 
 Than eve's one star ; while love with gentle stress, 
 
 Pressed life's new hope, and flung the wedding glove. 
 
 So, dare remember all the joys that were. 
 
 The bridal wreath, the lover's stolen kiss, 
 And fall upon thy knees once more to her, 
 
 And try to win the beautv and the bliss 
 That once were thine when life was fresh and new, 
 And every rosy sparkled in its dew. 
 
 V. 
 
 No new thing 'neath the sun ? Ah me ! Ah me ! 
 
 Where all our hopes and aspirations? Say : 
 
 Shall inky night befoul my marriage lay? 
 Shall every hope and aspiration be 
 Dethroned, and relegated to the sea 
 
 Where Hope's new wings were clipped ? I tell thee, nay ! 
 
 Fling out Hope's banner to the light of dav, 
 And sail fore'er with gladsome Jollitv ! 
 
 And build thy gilded castles in the air, 
 
 Raise minaret and turret to the sky, 
 And on thy tombstone Hope and not Despair ; 
 
 Fling flowerets like a rainbow up on high ; 
 Be merry as the flowers, make old things new ; 
 'Twill build a hope from heaven down to vou !
 
 10 IXTIMATlOXi* OF HEAVEN 
 
 VI. 
 
 And no remembrance? Ah ! to thee, gray hairs, 
 Shall be oblivion in thy hoary age ; 
 Thou canst no more unclasp the hallowed page 
 
 And read : In orchard 'neath the mellowed pears 
 
 The rosy god entangled me in snares 
 
 Of love ! and there in love's assumed rage 
 
 I slormed and stamped. But last in gilded cage 
 
 He prisoned me, I captured unawares. 
 
 And so he shall not turn these hallowed leaves 
 Of memory, shall not dare recall the flowers 
 
 Of bridal davs, when 'neath the mouldered eaves 
 
 He plucked them, crowning all the happy hours 
 
 With life's new wreath, and breathed a tale to her 
 
 That made life's viols sound out merrier. 
 
 VII. 
 
 And I was king. And so a king am I ; 
 
 I shall not be dethroned. My gilded rod 
 
 Is bright with age. I climb with silvered hod 
 
 The building that I build. The hours may fly, 
 
 The clouds may gather in the rounded sky. 
 
 And thunders crash above me : flowered sod 
 vShall smile in loveliness up to its God ; 
 
 For Hope doth bow above us far on high. 
 
 So, once a king, be king for aye ; let Time 
 
 Roll on in cha\iot car, and days and years ; 
 
 Hold fast thou hast, and life shall rhyme and rhyme 
 In one glad song ; and all thy falling tears 
 
 Will turn to beaded gems, and every thing 
 
 Will grow to beauty like a jeweled spring.-
 
 INTIMATIONS OF 1IKAVEN 11 
 
 VIII. 
 
 And he was preacher. Let no talc of woe 
 
 He preached to me. I' 11 fling my starry flag 
 Against the clouds. Wilt call it tattered rag? 
 
 An emblem of defeat? Let tidings go: 
 
 Happiness still spans like .overarching bow, 
 And he who dares to say my golden bag 
 Is empty, finds my banner does not sag, 
 
 But floats o'er every hut and bungalow ! 
 
 Go ! the Procession moves apace. The star 
 
 Of hope is on our gilded ensign ; back 
 We look and forward. O'er the sanded bar 
 
 Of death we never go. The beaten track 
 Of glorv, hope, we march with rvthmic feet, 
 And on our banner is no word Defeat ' 
 
 1 gave mv heart to seek all wisdom. Time 
 
 Flew on. The days were wedded to the years 
 In haloed glorv. Here was death with tears, 
 
 And here was love with manv a marriage rhyme, 
 
 And here was wisdom, genius in his clime 
 
 Of song, and high court-ladies with the peers 
 Of Parliament, and some had jibes and jeers ; 
 
 But, over all, Omnipotence sublime ! 
 
 I squeeze the orange, and my hope is there. 
 
 I press the grape, and rare delicious wines 
 Of Magra touch my lips. With golden hair 
 
 My muse has come ; with corrugated lines, 
 Like crinkling waters, rippled down her back 
 Her golden hair, sweet flowerets in her track.
 
 12 INTIMATIONS OF HEAVEN 
 
 Yea, I have seen all works beneath the sun ; 
 
 But dare not tell me vanity, that all 
 
 Is vanity. A builder build a wall 
 I 've seen, to shelter little children won 
 From murky streets, and then caparison 
 
 Them all with heaven's happy coronal ; 
 
 I Ve seen a mother with a remnant shawl 
 Bend homeward, her last scrap of duty done. 
 
 So, lift the glory of this mundane sphere 
 
 Against the stars. We may not raise the dead 
 
 But death has won our heart's unstinted tear; 
 
 And, therefore, shall we crv when she is wed : 
 
 Nay, nay, take not our hope ! Let cloudless skies 
 
 Expand with golden rainbow o'er our eyes. 
 
 Our wavs are crooked ? Who shall make them straight 
 But pardon, we will fling our flowers to thee, 
 O Heaven ! We '11 sail our life's tempestuous sea 
 
 With all things fair, and Hope shall be our mate ; 
 
 Our crew the best ! To come here was our fate, 
 Yet we dare hope our song will rise and be 
 A rhyme among the stars, Eternity 
 
 Will hear, and God find waiting at the Gate ! 
 
 So, let us place a rosy on her grave ; 
 
 So, let us mourn when we are sad and drear, 
 And let us sing o'er death our solemn stave, 
 
 And drop above our dead the silent tear ; 
 And when we lay her in the quiet tomb, 
 O let us feel she's smiling thro' the gloom I
 
 IM IM ATIONS OK HKAVKN 1.'! 
 
 XII. 
 
 And never man had greater wisdom : I 
 
 Was ruler; I communed with mine own heart; 
 Vet vanity. O preacher ! let mine art 
 
 Place love's embroidery o'er the earth and sky, 
 
 A veil of beautv over death, with dye 
 
 Cerulean paint all woe, the flowers that start 
 O'er new-made graves, transpose to heal the smart 
 
 Of dissolution, hallow those that die. 
 
 Since I. O Preacher! now would change all woe 
 To beauty, and make death a^lorious hope : 
 
 This life a preparation till we go 
 
 In grand procession thro' the doors that ope 
 
 To Heaven ; for I have come to preach of love. 
 
 And hope, and of that Wreath of flowers above. 
 
 XIII. 
 
 I gave my heart to know all wisdom, folly ; 
 
 And yet I found vexation. Why this sadness? 
 
 Obliteration of all hope ? This madness 
 With things that we call beautiful? O jolly 
 Hand-maidens, pouting girls, drive melancholy 
 
 Over the caverned Styx ; and boys of gladness 
 
 Blow all your trumps of joy and chase this badness 
 From earth and twine the Michaelmas green holly. 
 
 For I have drawn a flaming sword, and hero 
 
 In life's great vanguard, I shall lead to battle 
 
 For peace, and white contrition ; every Nero 
 
 Shall feel my blade ! We 're not ''dumb, driven cattle," 
 
 But human gods with spirits born in heaven, 
 
 With strength of one? Yea, as the strength of seven!
 
 14 INTIMATION.- OF MKAVKN 
 
 XIV. 
 
 Yes, in much wisdom there is grief, and so 
 
 Does knowledge cause us sorrow. Yet, dear Bard 
 
 Inspired by heaven, I love the daisied yard 
 By cabin home, the lovely flowers that blow : 
 I love to see the rainstorm's yellow bow 
 
 Across the mountains, an embroidered card, 
 
 A chiseled cameo, a poet starred 
 By earth, with banners flaunting high and low. 
 
 For hear my mandate, doubter, infidel : 
 
 This life is but a premonition grand 
 To me, of that high life where faretheewell 
 
 Is never spoken; where a winged band, 
 Like great white clouds, throng our Jerusalem, 
 \Vhitc-robed and crowned bv starrv anadem. 
 
 XV. 
 
 And so avaunt ! all doubt. Serene and fair. 
 
 Come sweet Placidity, and happy girls 
 
 With wreathed horns, and love-entangled curls. 
 And flowery bosoms, apple cheeks as rare 
 As Eden peach, with rippling golden hair, 
 
 And winy gladness, tangling gray old earls 
 
 In meshes of delight, revealing pearls 
 In pursed mouth, and hearts as light as air. 
 
 For melancholy, trials, troubles, all 
 
 And everything that comes to mar our mirth, 
 
 Get hence and leer behind thy dungeon wall ; 
 For fairies shall adorn our lovelv earth, 
 
 And dispositions sweet as pressed wine. 
 
 Shall be to all of earth from heaven divine.
 
 IXTIMATIUN.S OF HEAVEN 15 
 
 XVI. 
 
 Go place a rosy on the bride, a ring 
 
 Ol" gold bring unto her. Make merry. Paint 
 All splendors of the morning. Make a saint 
 
 Of her. Put on thy wedding suit and bring 
 
 New gladness unto her. The bridal spring 
 Put in her heart. Discoloration, taint. 
 Disfigurement, and woe, and all complaint. 
 
 Put these aside, and basket roses fling. 
 
 For, hear again : I come to battle worry, 
 
 And disaffection, sour entangled creeds, 
 And stop this strain for wealth, this hurry, hurry ; 
 
 This mad contention ; trample on the weeds 
 Of old hallucination; fling about 
 The seeds of peace, and crush this age's Doubt I 
 
 XVII. 
 
 I '11 build me castles by the sanded sea, 
 
 I '11 raise me houses full of all things fair, 
 
 I '11 be a lover of old books so rare 
 That earth has not another. I will be 
 As free as soft Balalo gales, and tree, 
 
 And shrub, and vine, and vert, and voweled air 
 
 From thrummed lute, shall come from everywhere. 
 And please me with their braided rarity. 
 
 For", jolly girls, be jollier still, and swains, 
 
 Pipe out new songs ; and cow-boys fling your hats 
 
 Against the clouds, and send the Bacchus strains 
 
 Down into hearts of gloom ; and pastoral mats, 
 
 And Turkish rugs, and everything of beauty 
 
 Bring to our lives ; for 'tis vour right, vour dutv .'
 
 16 INTIMATIONS OF HKAVKX 
 
 XVIII. 
 
 Place rare bouquets upon your shelves ; fetch art 
 
 From every clime, and sculpture-work of Greece. 
 And all the love of Dante's Beatrice, 
 
 And Ariosto's Princess. Laura. Start 
 
 In all directions ; love to shrine the heart 
 
 With all things beautiful ; and find release 
 From foul-faced woe. till tessellated Peace 
 
 Shall smile eternal, tho' death fling his dart. 
 
 And music bring, and viols tuned rare, 
 
 And lutes that Orphean hands shall touch, and lutes 
 That blessed Sapphos loved ; and maids with hair 
 
 Of gold, and marble boys, white little mutes, 
 And all things fair, till jolly cheeks of joy 
 Are red with love, life' s buoyant as a boy. 
 
 XIX. 
 
 Burn Voltaire. Never read a bitter book 
 Of theologic doubt ; and never gaze 
 On prurient picture. Come from out the haze 
 
 Of turgid isms, and never dare to look 
 
 On horrors. Down, force down the gnome and spook. 
 And rush among the fields, the tasseled ways, 
 The greening grots, where beauty 's all ablaze, 
 
 And life outbabbles like a grottoed brook. 
 
 So, turn your shoulder. Drive crowned Satan back. 
 And crown alone the god of love and peace ; 
 
 Pile high the flowers along life's winding track, 
 And crown with all the loveliness of Greece 
 
 Your home, your fireside, and thy shrine will be 
 
 Lovelier than emeralds of antiquitv '.
 
 INTIMATIONS OF I1KAVEN 17 
 
 I said in mine own heart : O go to now ! 
 
 For mirth shall prove thee, and sweet pleasure. And 
 
 He found it vanity. Take, belov'd, my hand. 
 And let me lead thee with thy noble brow 
 To quiet pleasures 1 , rosy mirth ; endow 
 
 Thee with sweet love ; the Spanish saraband. 
 
 Or stately minuet, or dance on sand 
 Of seashores, be as pleasures, I avow ! 
 
 Since I would have the golden lyre, the lute 
 
 That beauty touched, the stringed harp ; for mirth 
 Is mine. I 'm not a preacher tall and mute, 
 
 But blessed being God has made for earth. 
 Its wholesome joys ; and love I beauteous spring, 
 Mine own true heart will crown me like a king ! 
 
 XXI. 
 
 And laughter's mad? And mirth what doeth it? 
 
 My laughter keeps me sweet ; and mirth ? Ah me 1 
 I give thee gloom, and death, the moaning sea ; 
 
 But laughter, mirth, I cannot spare a bit; 
 
 A thousand bumpers I will drink to wit, 
 
 A thousand beakers drain ; and I will be 
 By laughing waters, full of joys, and see 
 
 An Eden, build me castles where I sit. 
 
 For hear me, pessimist, there 's not a woe, 
 
 An unremembered grave, but I would clothe 
 
 In loveliness ! Let every floweret blow ; 
 
 Strike down the weeds of doubt, for these I loathe ; 
 
 And bury woes in garbs of loveliness, 
 
 Yea. clothe them ever with life's wedding dress.
 
 18 INTIMATIONS OF HEAVEN 
 
 XXII. 
 
 I sought to give myself to wine ; i built 
 
 Me houses grand, great works 1 made, that I 
 
 Might see what should be good for men. And, ay ! 
 
 He planted vineyards ; boys in figured kilt, 
 
 And Bacchus lads, wine-bearers ; bossed hilt 
 On rare Damascus blade, and elf and fay, 
 And music-boys in many a roundelay, 
 
 He might have had, and yet his wine had spilt. 
 
 For all the gold of India piled high, 
 
 Or eagle diamonds flashing like the stars 
 
 In winter skies, had not sufficed. For I 
 
 Know Peace ! She 's found bosidc the milking bars. 
 
 And not where temples rear their frondcd art, 
 
 For these delight the eye, but not the heart ! 
 
 XXIII. 
 
 He made him orchards, gardens ; luscious fruit 
 O'erweighted many a tree, and bellied grapes 
 Blushed in purple splendor, greening capes 
 
 In viny textures spread above ; and mute 
 
 Waters soft mirrored treetops ; spiral chute, 
 
 And curved strait, and curious-made escapes 
 For water, vines in old fantastic shapes, 
 
 Made his new kingdom, yet it did not suit ! 
 
 For nay ! He had no wine of gladness. Eye 
 And heart were not united. Method, yea ! 
 
 Method was in his madness. Fie and fie 
 
 For him ! He might have lived to this day 
 
 And he had been dear earth's unhappy wight, 
 
 A little pleased, but happy? Ah, not quite !
 
 INTIMATIONS OK HEAVEN 19 
 
 XXIV. 
 
 And pools of water lie did get, that trees 
 
 And vines and herbage he might have, for life 
 To him .would be a passing dream. The strife 
 
 Of kingdoms vexed him not ; no rarities, 
 
 Nor dainties, with their trite disparities 
 
 Or disaffections ; but the pruning knife 
 Every false tree should feel, till rare and rife 
 
 Earth glory he would worship on his knees ! 
 
 But Love he knew thec not ! And wreathed Peace, 
 Your A. B. C. he never learned ; for gold 
 
 And glitter, and the glimmering things ol Greece 
 And Rome, or rare exotics from the wold 
 
 Ol England blinded him. Satiety came 
 
 To him. Today we do not know his name ! 
 
 XXV. 
 
 And yet he got him servants ; maidens fair 
 
 As angels are he got. Great cattle, too, 
 
 Nibbled his grasses. Yearling calves did loo 
 In overabundance. Any Croesus there, 
 Or far, was never richer. And I swear 
 
 Solomon in all his glory, yea ! to you 
 
 I say, was never greater. Through and through 
 The land he hunted, seeking all things rare. 
 
 Ne'er greater king reigned o'er Jerusalem ! 
 
 And yet, O Preacher ! crowned with carcanet 
 Of pearls of price, an envied diadem 
 
 Of glory, where 's the beggar you have met 
 Whose footstep was not lighter? whose leal soul 
 Had not its own Venitian barcarolle?
 
 20 INTIMATIONS <>K HEAVEN 
 
 XXVI. 
 
 He gathered silver, gold ; and of the kings 
 Around, all treasures that peculiar were 
 To such, he gathered. Nothing did deter 
 
 Him ; for this man would have all earthy things. 
 
 And maids of beauty with their sparkling rings 
 Of love; and singers rare, and lutes that stir 
 The harmonies within us. Juniper 
 
 In whorls of threes, and knot that flies and sings. 
 
 And yet was woe across his fields ; his house 
 
 A palace e'en, was not a Paradise ; 
 He envied men ; and e'en the little mouse 
 
 Nibbling forbidden meal. Yet handsome Nice 
 With whirling dust, or any city far, 
 Had been to him a brighter rising star. 
 
 XXVII. 
 
 So I was great. My God ! And yet he cried : 
 Vanity ! O build me pleasure-houses rare 
 As Aidenn, and a fabric make me fair 
 
 As Barberini Palaces ; and dyed 
 
 In dyes of gods, new osier baskets ; wide 
 As love or heaven raise my castle there. 
 And make me pontificial, and my prayer : 
 
 O this is all for which I sigh, have sighed ! 
 
 But, happy builder, architect divine, 
 
 Thy structure lacketh in its chiefest part ! 
 
 It has the arabesque, the curved line, 
 
 But O 't is cold. It lacks a human heart ! 
 
 And so I turn me to my cottage home, 
 
 And love will king me like a king of Rome.
 
 INTIMATIONS OK HEAVKN 21 
 
 XXVIII. 
 
 His heart rejoiced. But list his varied tale 
 
 Of interchanging joys. His eyes desired ; 
 
 And craved his heart ; and so to him transpired 
 
 A tale worth telling. But, ah me ! a wail, 
 
 A rich man's sigh, comes o'er the intervale 
 
 Where tropic roses bloom. He had aspired 
 To all things meet. But now he has retired 
 
 To arbor nook. But care has made him pale. 
 
 And yet how great he was ! All maids of song, 
 
 And instruments attuned rare, and bards 
 Of genius, aye! a multitude, a throng. 
 
 Of rosy-footed joys, and flowers from yards 
 Of Eden flocked round ; and yet he said : 
 All 's vanity ! Better far that I were dead. 
 
 XXIX. 
 
 And then I looked on all the works my hands 
 
 Had wrought, and all my labors. But, ah me, 
 Ah me ! He found no pleasure. O'er the sea 
 
 A ragged sailor starteth home. The bands 
 
 Of love, a mother's ; and the golden strands 
 
 Of love, a sweetheart's, draw him, make him free 
 Of spirit, and he smiles. His bended knee 
 
 Is holy as he strikes the shining sands. 
 
 And he was poor, but richer than a king, 
 
 And he was rich, but poor as poor could be, 
 
 For one alone the whole year long was spring, 
 For one the days went tossing like the sea 
 
 On rocky shores ; since one had bargained for 
 
 His peace, the other's came by natural law.
 
 22 IXTI.MATIONS OK J1KAVEX 
 
 XXX. 
 
 And madness, wisdom, folly. These to him 
 Were potent. But O -such discouragement 
 In all his life. Had he a man's intent 
 
 Who loveth love, and God. and genii dim 
 
 Are never floating o'er him black and grim 
 
 In midnight's solemn hour, he had not bent 
 With gilded woe. And, all ! he had not lent 
 
 His goodliest davs to follv's nacent whim. 
 
 And yet he saw his life mistake ; so. ay '. 
 
 More bitter grew his bitterness : no thing 
 
 As wholly new as life could monev buy ; 
 
 All things had been : in fall and purple spring 
 
 He found no newness. Thousand vears before 
 
 As kinglv kings had done his doings o'er. 
 
 XXXI. 
 
 His dust may be my valid self. But I 
 
 Am speaking from a heart that loveth gold 
 That it may clothe the poor, not build me old 
 
 High turret castles, that the passer-by 
 
 Will halt and worship, as beneath the sky 
 
 It glimmers to the morning. O'er the wold 
 I 've seen me catafalques, and bells have tolled 
 
 For what? Alas ! for rich man that did die. 
 
 Oh give me bags of gold, the wealth of Ind : 
 
 But give me sweet Valhalla maidens, yea ! 
 To scatter my great wealth. For I had sinned 
 
 Against myself, had beggars by the wax- 
 Seen useless millions in my strained purse. 
 But don't misunderstand me in in v verse.
 
 INTIMATIONS Ot HEAVEN 23 
 
 XXXII. 
 
 O great ecclesiarch, I envy thee 
 
 Thy wisdom ! Folly had a reason, nay ! 
 And darkness ; a great governor or Bey 
 
 In Turkish lands; the earth; and roaring sea 
 
 In its eternal restlessness ; the bee 
 
 On wayside flowers ; and in the shining way 
 Of love, bride-garlands. Preacher, yea and yea, 
 
 Thou sawest all, but peace flew far away. 
 
 With dirty urchins, one, and two, and four, 
 I 've seen a beggar king upon this throne 
 
 Of love and home, suggestions of that shore 
 Where life's eternal, not a tare is sown ! 
 
 So who will tell me wealth means happiness? 
 
 That it will clothe us like a papist's dress? 
 
 XXXIII. 
 
 And so the earth-fool is as I? We die 
 
 The death of life ; but I am wiser far ; 
 
 O'er him I am as some resplendent star; 
 Some shining glorv ; gemmed tiaras lie 
 Close at my feet ; the pageants passing by 
 
 Are unto me ; that gaudy chariot car 
 
 With trumpets blown and songs, sweeps down afar, 
 For I am king, and likened to Most High ! 
 
 But no procession passeth for the fool ; 
 
 And yet the pageant 's soon forgot, the herse 
 With tasseled horses; in the wayside pool 
 
 Throw veiny pebble ; such the rich man's verse ! 
 The rich and poor have each the same earth breath, 
 But who shall draw the line between their death ?
 
 24 INTIMATIONS OF HEAVEN 
 
 XXXIV. 
 
 The high and low arc soon forgot, unless 
 
 A touch of heaven does link us unto Him '. 
 For I, and hear me, tho' the thing be dim, 
 
 Dare say in all this age's worldliness, 
 
 There is a God ! So don thy spotless dress, 
 
 And dare be brave where armed Doubt is grim, 
 And isms ; for Heaven is no new poet's whim, 
 
 But fact ! So, bow the knee, and dare confess. 
 
 For look ye in the lives of infidels, 
 
 And look ye in the lives of those that doubt ; 
 The first is but a life of sad farewells, 
 
 The second, very lamps of life are out ; 
 But he who hopes bevond the mouldered tomb, 
 Sees Him of Olivet across the gloom ! 
 
 XXXV. 
 
 And so he hated life ; for vanities 
 
 Upstarted here and there, and grevious were 
 His works to him, and like a whipped cur 
 
 He skulked in thought. The salt unresting seas 
 
 Were not more restless. Wine-cups to the lees 
 His lips had quaffed. Valkyrian, e'en her 
 Of Odin, spear-mark made, and like a bur 
 
 It harrassed him and took away his ease. 
 
 But blame him not, for life had taught him ; say, 
 
 Was ever wiser? Life to him had been 
 A learned lesson. Had he gone astray 
 
 In doubt, he had not touched the carved kin 
 To holy song ; but God had made him rich 
 In goods, though Time hath left no marble niche !
 
 INTIMATIONS OF HEAVEN 25 
 
 XXXVI. 
 
 He knew not if a wise man or a fool 
 
 Would reign o'er all his great estates ; and so 
 He moaned. Where lilies turned their whited blow 
 To God, he stood with folded arms. The cool 
 
 North breezes touched his cheek. Sevastopol 
 Had less contention. In a dream of woe 
 He stood,' but every grass-blade seemed his foe ; 
 
 His endless sea had dwindled to a pool. 
 
 He caused his heart despair. His labor vain 
 It seemed, and all^his goodly acres round 
 
 Seemed folly, since he soon must cross the main, 
 Be buried in the churchyard's sodden ground ; 
 
 I venture tears outglistened in his eye, 
 
 With wealth so much, at thought he soon must die. 
 
 XXXVII. 
 
 His days were sorrow, and his travail grief, 
 
 His heart no rest. And yet 'twas best to eat 
 And drink, be merry. These to him were sweet 
 
 Savor to his sad plight. But bordered leaf, 
 
 And broken stone are trite. Yet, Time, the thief, 
 Has stolen name and fame. The winds repeat 
 The funeral dirge. In spring or summer's heat, 
 
 We guess his early history, for 'tis brief. 
 
 A wise man wrote Ecclesiastes. Stave 
 
 Of requiem had never been so sad ; 
 Ah ' we hunt vainly for the Preacher's grave ; 
 
 For e'en his gilded name and all he had, 
 Are perished ! Yet how little do we seem 
 Before the greatness of this man ! I dream !
 
 20 INTIMATION? OF 11KAVKN 
 
 XXXVIII. 
 
 Yea, dream and dream and dream. But, ah to me 
 
 Cometh the thought : All things have seasons. There's 
 A time to live, to die. The ripened pears 
 
 Are mellowed to their fall. Eternity 
 
 Is wide as mercy. Dread adversity, 
 
 And death have seasons. Climb life's weary stairs. 
 And at the top is death. A time for cares, 
 
 And love and wine and glories unto thee. 
 
 A time to kill, a time to heal, to weep 
 
 O'er death's intrusion ; time to laugh and mourn, 
 For life hath levels, and her roads are steep. 
 
 The heart will weary, every soul be torn ! 
 But hope is radiant, above all woe 
 It spanneth ever like an endless bow. 
 
 XXXIX. 
 
 A time to get, a time to lose, to weep ; 
 
 And yet is life worth living. Pretty flowers 
 Are strewn upon the grave of babes, and bowers 
 
 Of fragrance rare are made for them. Why keep 
 
 Such sacred trait ? Because you know the sleep 
 
 That binds their loveliness, will break in hours 
 Not far to be, tho' now the black cloud lowers, 
 
 And death o'ertakes thy baby ere it creep. 
 
 And yet a time to love, and now if ever : 
 
 For never is a holy mother's heart 
 So sorely touched as when death does dissever 
 
 Her from her newborn babe. The tear will start, 
 E'en when the flowers have faded on its grave ; 
 But God that took him, and 'twas God that gave.
 
 INTIMATIONS OF HEAVEN 27 
 
 XL. 
 
 A time for war, a time for peace. But hear : 
 O love thy neighbor as thyself. Let strife, 
 And battled field go by the wall. The knife 
 
 Of internecine bitterness, the spear 
 
 Of tasseled knights be buried. Let the ear 
 Hear village hautboy, and the air be rife 
 With gladsome music. Lead the flowerv wife 
 
 To scenes of loveliness, and glad the year. 
 
 Put flowered housings on thy steed, and ride 
 
 To tune of drum and fife ; but let thy battle 
 
 Be for sweet peace. The tally-ho with bride 
 
 Head the procession. Let no musket rattle 
 
 On hostile field, and crown with olive leaf 
 
 The whole broad land, and place a rose on grief. 
 
 XLI. 
 
 Hear : Everything is beautiful in its 
 
 Own season. Firstlings of the flock, the herd 
 
 In meditative days. Let lucent word 
 Go forth for hope. For time so softly flits 
 Across our lives in its new parceled bits, 
 
 It seems the flitting of a robin-bird, 
 
 A zephyr that a faded leaf has stirred 
 In winter nooks. But go where beauty sits. 
 
 For beautv is the queen of every land ; 
 
 Love all things fair ; love not the sombre weeds 
 Of mourning. Wipe the tear, and with the hand 
 
 Of kindliness, and to the tune of reeds, 
 Lead in all loveliness, and all things fair. 
 And veil with flowerets every home's despair.
 
 28 INTIMATIONS OF HEAVEX 
 
 XLII. 
 
 I saw the place of judgment. Ah ! 't is well : 
 The good man's judged already. Only fear 
 Is to the wicked. Be ye of good cheer, 
 
 And smooth the wrinkles from thy face. I tell 
 
 Thee He is coming ! Let no infidel 
 
 Dethrone thy hope ; for even he on mere 
 Of death, will look to God with falling tear, 
 
 And Jesus' name be in his last farewell. 
 
 Judge men by deeds, and not by bandied word ; 
 
 Let sense prevail, and he that takes thy hope, 
 Forget his name. Go seek the singing bird 
 
 In pastures new ; climb up the flowery slope 
 That leads to heaven, and dare be true and brave, 
 E'en at the open mouth of thy child's grave. 
 
 XLIII. 
 
 The beast and I the same earth breath ? And yet 
 I dare be more, dare imitate the One 
 Who made the stars, the slave, the Scythian Hun 
 
 Who conquered old Pannonia ; who set 
 
 The rainbow in the sky ; who '11 not forget 
 
 The sparrow in its fall ; who sent his Son 
 To die for us. Dare do as He hath done. 
 
 And rise o'er beasts like towering minaret. 
 
 For e'en tho' death should be the end, 'tis better 
 To rise with glory like a star, and shine 
 
 With splendor. Dare to break the rusting fetter 
 That binds our lives to doubt. Oh be divine, 
 
 And when the last great hour shall come to thee, 
 
 Thy earth-reward be hope, not vanity !
 
 INTIMATIONS OF HEAVEN 29 
 
 XLIV. 
 
 Yea, all will turn to dust. But of the pure 
 
 Are lilies made. But dust to dust ! Be wise 
 As serpents ; 't is the spirit on emprise 
 
 Of valor, rising like an incense sure 
 
 Of God ! White Galatea on earthy tour 
 
 Thro' moulder's mind, before a thousand eyes, 
 Was lifeless in her clay. Snap not the ties 
 
 That bind. Be wary of the Fauns that lure. 
 
 Fling hope and love to every home ; let joy 
 
 Dance nimbly, timbrel sound, and fiddle play, 
 
 And morris-dances come, and maiden coy, 
 
 And crimson sky, join in with roundelay, 
 
 Till every heart is full of gladness, hours 
 
 Go by like fairy's dream among the bowers. 
 
 XLV. 
 
 Yea, better is an handful with a heart 
 
 Of quietness, than both hands full, with woe, 
 And discontent ; so make amends with foe 
 
 And enemy, unselfish be in art 
 
 That comes of wealth. Give each poor beggar part, 
 And sleep shall come to thee ; since as ye sow, 
 So shall ye reap ; and such a sleep, I know, 
 
 Will come to thee as babe's in crowded mart. 
 
 For peace and sleep and happiness are more 
 
 Than gold, than hoarded wealth ; for riches oft 
 Annoy the night. Stand on the rocky shore 
 
 Of ocean, beacon banner hold aloft 
 To threated ship, and such a peace to thee 
 As gold has not this side eternity.
 
 30 INTIMATION!* OF HEAVEN 
 
 XL VI. 
 
 Go 'mong thine orange groves, thy vineyards rare ; 
 Pick purple clusters, fling them to the boy 
 With knee-frayed pants ; and set life's rosy joy 
 
 A-dancing. Pluck the mellow, yellow pear 
 
 For gift to rosy maid with golden hair 
 
 In wavy ripples ; to Jack Tar : Ahoy I 
 
 Come feast, Jack Tar ! Forget the old bell-buoy, 
 
 And breakers, and our pristine homage share. 
 
 For giving makes a man. And he is king 
 
 Who 's king of self. This life is but a span ; 
 
 If some to spare, outdo the blooming spring 
 
 In glad abundance. Laurel old King Pan, 
 
 And make him plav a rural ditty sweet 
 
 As love, and all the zephyrs will repeat. 
 
 XLVIL 
 
 Put spangles in her hair; twine chains of gold 
 Around her neck, embroider every doubt 
 With starry loveliness ; throw each hand out 
 
 With gladsome fullness ; dance across the wold 
 
 Among the daisies ; let all stories told 
 
 By sweet new dabsters all along life's route, 
 Be told again ; and kiss away the pout 
 
 Of beauty, and joys will be manifold. 
 
 I 'm here to laugh and not to cry. The tear, 
 
 Ah me ! let teardrops come from happiness ; 
 
 Have hope. Don't make this life a funeral bier, 
 But clothe thyself with joy and loveliness ; 
 
 And fill the whole great world with gladsome song, 
 
 And shower with flowers the world's great surging throng.
 
 INTIMATIONS OF HEAVEN 31 
 
 XL VI II. 
 
 I 'in sick of sadness. Tell me of delights 
 
 In shady nooks, and take me bosky ways 
 Of dewy freshness, where the lightsome fays 
 
 Dance on the green in cloudless starrv nights. 
 
 With merry lads and lassies, pursy wights 
 
 In life's gray prime, where song and voweled lays 
 Sweeten and harmonize the soul; for davs 
 
 Are flitting fast. So, come ! Enjoy the sights. 
 
 Make gardens ; bury up the earth in flowers 
 
 Of beauty, garlands make as nattily 
 Arranged as bridy dreams ; and laurel hours, 
 
 And minutes, seconds, and as prettilv 
 As ever flowery bride ; for hear me now, 
 I 'd place a crown on everv being's brow. 
 
 For once you lose desire ; ah me, ah me ! 
 
 The grasshopper shall be a burden, things 
 That once were thy delight, will take the wings 
 
 Of morning; and thy friends will be to thee 
 
 As naught ; for now thou thinkest of the Sea 
 
 'Twixt Him and thee : and other summers, springs, 
 Are nothing now ! Now nothing pleasure brings, 
 
 But, sans desire, from earth you 'd gladly flee. 
 
 For now like throneless patriarch of Rome, 
 Your mind is busy with the future state. 
 
 Because thou goest soon to thy long Home, 
 
 And clear old memories cannot make you wait : 
 
 For earth is fading like a bitter dream, 
 
 But e'en thro' death thou seest the great throne gleam !
 
 32 INTIMATIONS OF HEAVEN 
 
 L. 
 
 The son of David, he hath said these things 
 Of beauty, wisdom, to another time, 
 Now faded out like some old poet's rhyme 
 
 That echoed with a great heart's questionings 
 
 Of busier life and death, when other springs 
 And winters hoar, in far and elder clime, 
 Were pregnant with the great God music-chime 
 
 That only the divinest poet sings. 
 
 And yet today a new world scans the pages 
 Of gray old life, to gather from their lore 
 
 And spoils of years, the mystery of the ages 
 That only on that far unknowable Shore 
 
 Is sure revealed. And yet we may not grope, 
 
 For, at the end of every life is Hope ! 
 
 LI. 
 
 To some this life is full of vanities ; 
 
 To others rainbows span from shore to shore ; 
 
 And one may mourn his love, his lost Lenore ; 
 And one may fill his life with charities ; 
 And two may wed and find Idalian Dees ; 
 
 And one may walk alone and bravely soar 
 
 Across the mountains ; others may adore 
 The Being smiling over sapphire seas. 
 
 But, high or low, no theologic doubt, 
 
 When grimy death draws near, can take our hope ;- 
 For, hear : 'Tis hard to put our God-lamp out, 
 
 E'en though in bitter darkness we may grope ; 
 Since over all our life's great weal and woe 
 Ever, forever spanneth heaven's bright bow !
 
 INTIMATIONS OF HEAVEN 33 
 
 LII. 
 
 And so the Preacher may not have a grave, 
 
 No mausoleum of Carrara stone ; 
 
 And yet the ages heard his great voice tone, 
 Tho' poet sing his sad funereal stave 
 As over one who lived. So, do not rave ; 
 
 For though he sleepeth in white death alone, 
 
 Nor any note of lyre or voiced phone, 
 Still let the pleasant grasses o'er him wave. 
 
 His golden words are ours. But vanity 
 
 Shall fade away like some distorted dream 
 
 Of Hades, and across his widening sea 
 
 We still shall sail to him, the bright white gleam 
 
 Upon our sails, reflect the loveliness 
 
 Of his great life that came from God to bless. 
 
 Lin. 
 
 One generation passes ; graves are wide 
 
 And yawning. Yet, and yet the bridegroom comes 
 
 Arrayed with beauty. Birds still peck the crumbs. 
 And like a rainbow cometh life's new bride, 
 And with a rosy in the eventide 
 
 A little ditty or a carol hums, 
 
 And Cupid does his hymeneal sums. 
 And smiles between them when the knot is tied. 
 
 So, generations go, but others come ; 
 
 And these will pass like panoramic dream ; 
 And yet the earth remains. The busy hum 
 
 Of life is in the valley. Yet the stream 
 Of death is ever winding to the grave: 
 But even there, let 's sing our life's best stave !
 
 34 INTIMATION 5 OK HKAVKN 
 
 LIV. 
 
 For singing makes the glory of the sky 
 
 Even more glorious, gives a rare new song 
 To busy earth, and glads the passing throng 
 
 With reminiscent ecstasy ; for I 
 
 Would add a tint, a hue, a trancing dye 
 
 To every field, and touch the golden gong 
 To lyric melody, the riddle plong 
 
 And pling, as life's procession passeth by. 
 
 So, come fair nymphs, and maids of Plato love, 
 And lads and lassies full of music rare ; 
 
 Descend ye glowing Nine, while stars above 
 Twinkle in beauty, and the cooling air 
 
 From southern climes, soft woos our willing cheek 
 
 Till we are pure as stone-entranced Greek. 
 
 LV. 
 
 The sun will rise, and vet he will go down 
 And leave a glory on the western hills, 
 A pure white loveliness upon the rills, 
 
 And in a farewell twilight to the town, 
 
 Slow fade in beauty. Not a passing frown, 
 
 But wreathed in smiles: for over woes and ills 
 I 'd spread a texture lovelv, wove in mills 
 
 Of gods, and coronaled by flowery crown. 
 
 For I would add a color to the bow 
 
 That spans the storm, a hue to lilies white 
 
 In odorous valleys ; and with Cupid go 
 
 To music-lands, and 'neath the German night, 
 
 Lit up by stars, cry out : "Another song ! 
 
 Fill up the glad red beaker to the throng!"
 
 INTIMATIONS OF HEAVEN 35 
 
 LVI. 
 
 The wind may sail away to southern vales 
 
 Of sweet cleliciousness, and not return ; 
 
 But I will place a rosy on her urn, 
 And let a teardrop fall where Zephyr wails 
 Among her funeral lilies, say: "Sweet gales, 
 
 Enwaft my love to her, and with the hern 
 
 From Scottish Dees, and all her beauty turn 
 Angelic, breathe upon my placid sails." 
 
 For winds may go, and death may come, but I 
 
 Shall grasp the promise of the clouds ; the tear, 
 
 Ah me, that comes unbidden, and the sigh 
 
 Shall pass avvav ; for faint and far, but clear, 
 
 There shines a halo with a hope to me 
 
 That spans across the great Eternity ! 
 
 LVII. 
 
 The streams may surge and join the great blue sea ; 
 
 My ships with bellied sails may blow away ; 
 
 My soaring lark may vanish with his lay, 
 And yet my heart-song still remains to me ; 
 For though the earth pass on, eternity 
 
 Remains ; and though I own the earth today, 
 
 'Tis nothing if the bright and starry Way 
 Is hid, I cannot say : "! go to Thee!" 
 
 For though I paint me splendors in my halls, 
 And build me arches groined to the clouds, 
 
 In marble basins have me waterfalls, 
 
 I cannot hide from thee the clinging shrouds. 
 
 But walk a living Superstition vast, 
 
 Until the disembodied soul has passed !
 
 36 INTIMATION? OF HEAVEN 
 
 LVIII. 
 
 No man may utter all the thoughts that lie 
 
 Hidden within his being ; and the ear 
 
 Is still unsatisfied ; and year on year 
 Goes unrewarded till his heart and eye 
 Give up the quest, and earth and moonless sky 
 
 Pass onward unrecorded ; yet as clear 
 
 As clarion morn or lusty chanticleer, 
 The Morn of morns shines out to you and I. 
 
 But, will we learn ? Ah me ! the golden god 
 We build, and shining monuments upraise 
 
 Against the stars ; the pontificial rod 
 
 We kiss, and strut a king of passing days ; 
 
 And yet a tinsel potentate, ah me ! 
 
 Of earth, but not the great Eternity. 
 
 LIX. 
 
 My song is but a repetition ; 1 
 
 May strike the lyre, the voweled notes are dim 
 
 In unremembered ages; raise to Him 
 A paeon of triumphal praise ; the sky 
 In vaulted glory in that other by 
 
 And by re-echoed it ; a spectre grim 
 
 Arises from the past with every whim 
 And trick, that last resolve to you and I. 
 
 And yet is repetition sweet to me ; 
 
 For thus I win my rosy back again, 
 My ox-eye daisy down across the lea ; 
 
 And spring will come and summer too, and when 
 Old Winter comes to every soft retreat, 
 I know that spring her beauties will repeat.
 
 INTIMATIONS OF HEAVEN 37 
 
 LX. 
 
 But, is it new ? A Whitman grand and gray, 
 
 The good gray bard of Camden-side, essayed 
 A metre new in language great arrayed ; 
 
 And so the world has lost a Poet's lay 
 
 That might have echoed to the farthest day ; 
 
 For great Miltonic thoughts were there displayed, 
 With Emersonian grandeur. Muses prayed : 
 
 4> O take us through the old accustomed way!" 
 
 But nay and nay, with language of a god, 
 
 A meaning vast as Avon's tragic bard, 
 The sceptre in his hand, Apollo's rod, 
 
 The good gray poet is uncrowned, unstarred ! 
 And yet his numbers were a battle-ode ; 
 He was too vast for such an earth abode ! 
 
 LXI. 
 
 There 's no remembrance ! In the elder times 
 
 Now unremembered, did the great God reign 
 In glory r was there such a Cuba ? Spain ? 
 
 A British empire ? undiscovered climes ? 
 
 The master verse ? the bardling's halting rhymes ? 
 Did hostile falchions glitter on the plain? 
 Were ever such disasters as the Maine ? 
 
 Upon our newest fad the ivy climbs ! 
 
 And yet I would remember other days ; 
 
 The old associations, bygone hours ; 
 The old familiar faces, and the ways 
 
 Our fathers knew ; go backward to the bowers 
 Where dewy love first told his new old tale, 
 And birds sang love to every intervale.
 
 38 INTIMATIONS OK 1IKAVKX 
 
 LXII. 
 
 Yea, over Israel he was a king ! 
 
 But who can point his place of sepulchre ? 
 
 Ah! was it Solomon? I dare demur; 
 Koheleth ! rise and end this questioning; 
 But through the winter and the passing spring 
 
 The silence is unbroken. Juniper, 
 
 Anemone, or e'en the bitter myrrh. 
 May know his grave, or birds that fly and sing ! 
 
 kk Yea, I was king o'er Israel !" O son 
 
 Of David? But the voice is hushed for aye; 
 
 And yet, Koheleth, were you Solomon? 
 The god of wisdom in that elder day ? 
 
 But Grotius denies it; wherefore we 
 
 To bandy or impeach his sovereignty ? 
 
 LXII I. 
 
 And though he sought all wisdom in the earth, 
 And in the great dividing sea, in lands 
 Beyond the sea, and where the golden sands 
 
 Exposed their granulations, where the birth 
 
 Of kings took place, and men of drink and mirth 
 Made merry nights, and gray old Morris bands 
 Danced light fandangos on the babbling strands, 
 
 He moaned his fate ; for in his life was dearth. 
 
 And yet the great One reigning far, unseen, 
 The Ruler of the earth, he ever held 
 
 In highest estimation, more than queen 
 
 Or reigning king; and from the lore of eld 
 
 Brought magic splendors to enhance this One, 
 
 The Father who would give his only son.
 
 INTIMATION? OF HEAVEN 39 
 
 LXIV. 
 
 Yet, Septuagint ! his name we dare dispute 
 
 With lore of ages. Was he Persian? Where, 
 Where did he reign? And was he David's heir 
 
 Apparent to the throne? All tongues are mute; 
 
 No language such strange figures can compute ; 
 And so the Maccabees may sway ; for there 
 By Hartmann he is placed : and yet I dare 
 
 Name him the man the very heavens can suit. 
 
 For out of all his toil and moil and woe, 
 
 He rises like a star, and points on high. 
 The realm of peace, where Hope's o'erarching bow 
 
 Resplendent shines across the great wide sky, 
 And tells us if we penetrate the night, 
 Behind it all the great sun shineth bright ! 
 
 LXV. 
 
 Accept the crooked things of life, and be 
 
 A happy ministrant to every ail; 
 
 Go pick the flowers beside the babbling vale ; 
 Send out your ships upn the restless sea ; 
 Plant shrub and vine and flower and cedar t'-ee 
 
 On all thy slopes, and in the intervale 
 
 Place mirrored lake, and on it silver sail, 
 And romp with nature in her rarity ! 
 
 For purity and nature's rare delights 
 
 Oft come of suffering; so weal and woe. 
 
 And bitter days, make pictures in the nights 
 
 With Titian moonbeams, and the gamboling doe 
 
 And swift gazelle ; for hearts that are not tried 
 
 A manv a lovelv blessing is denied.
 
 40 INTIMATIONS OF HEAVEN 
 
 LXVI. 
 
 Let knowledge, love and wisdom come to thee ; 
 
 Let fine appreciation grace thy mind ; 
 
 Find beauty in the meadow, and the wind 
 That plays a ditty in old nooks ; agree 
 With nature ; hold thy natal liberty 
 
 For aye, and love the earth and be resigned 
 
 To life, to all ; and once you are refined 
 As gold, your life will babble like a Dee. 
 
 For songs within the heart can never die ; 
 
 And e'en when death has come to thee and thine, 
 The old songs will re-echo like a Wye 
 
 On English meads, and coarser ones refine: 
 The Cotter's Night in Burns's canty rhymes. 
 Still echoes with the ingle's merry chimes. 
 
 LXVII. 
 
 Wisdom and grief go hand in hand. We look 
 
 On frescoed walls where art has reigned. We see 
 
 The palace ships in freighted majesty ; 
 We stand in \vonder by some pearly brook ; 
 We read old nature like an open book ; 
 
 In awe we stand beside the great wide sea ; 
 
 A crannied flower has piqued us ; far and free 
 The winds have come from some deserted nook. 
 
 A blade of grass has dashed our wisdom down ; 
 
 A twittering bird has held our learning up ; 
 We cannot cross our rural, native town, 
 
 But mysteries shine within the daisy's cup ; 
 So, wisdom gives a certain kind of grief ; 
 I am dumfounded at a mouldered leaf !
 
 INTIMATIONS OF HEAVEN 41 
 
 LXVIII. 
 
 But I will prove with mirth this world of ours, 
 
 With shining star and horned moon ; with bird 
 And flower, the lambkins and the pasture herd 
 
 Feeding upon the slopes. So, Bacchus, towers 
 
 Of grapes to thee ; come, Ida, to our bowers. 
 
 And we will sing the wine-song Bacchus stirred 
 To revelry, the juicy-tipped word. 
 
 With purple grapes distilling winy showers. 
 
 Since mirth is mine ; I '11 be a happy wight, 
 
 Tho' tasseled horses draw my lady's hearse ; 
 
 For even then the stars will splash the night. 
 
 Since death has won an angel. Sweet and terse : 
 
 kk And death has ta'en her to the highest star! 
 
 But death has ta'en her where the angels are !" 
 
 LXIX. 
 
 And laughter, what of it ? 'T is savor rare 
 
 Of aching gout; it is a poppy pill 
 
 To drowse you sweetly in a Lethe rill : 
 It drives the man of saddle-bags. So fair. 
 So pouting sweet and softly debonair 
 
 It makes the rosy maid ; you pause to fill 
 
 Your life's best being, feast upon her still, 
 Yea, feast upon her face, her sparkling hair. 
 
 So, court the god of laughter ; woo the maid 
 
 Who smiles the whole year round; be good to her; 
 
 For she 's a sylph in ecstasy arrayed ; 
 
 The lovely nightingale may sing and whir : 
 
 The lark of morn may soar afar; but she? 
 
 She 's Queen of everlasting Jollity !
 
 12 INTIMATIONS OF HEAVEN 
 
 LXX. 
 
 And did I say I 'd give myself to wine ? 
 
 And say I 'd pull the purple clusters down 
 
 From mossy nook? That I would hide my frown 
 
 In flushes of the grape? That wine 's divine ! 
 
 That it can beautify a friend of mine. 
 
 And make him finer than he is ? Renown, 
 Imagined kingdoms it can make ; can drown 
 
 The bitter soul, send boating on the Tyne. 
 
 So, pull the purple clusters! Drink not deep, 
 But just enough, my pard, to sweeten thee ; 
 
 And just enough, perchance, to make thee leap 
 
 With joy. But, nay ! The breakers of the sea 
 
 Are in the red wine cup ! So, have a care, 
 
 The red, red wine may turn thee to despair; 
 
 I builded houses ; I 'd the wherewithal 
 
 To make a name on earth, a money-king; 
 
 A prince of princedoms ; gods should touch the string 
 
 On harp of gold ; and arched room and hall 
 
 Should echo music, till a drowsing thrall 
 
 With murmured meanings, birds with sparkling wing 
 In slumberous tune, should soft and drowsily cling 
 
 To pictured nook, to pictures on the wall. 
 
 But, ah ! is tinsel beauty such to him ? 
 
 Can money buy the dearest peace he craves? 
 I see a spectre disembodied, dim ! 
 
 I see a sexton ! Is he digging graves? 
 Alas, alas, can wine and money buy 
 God's kingdom ? No ! For I am ever I !
 
 INTIMATIONS OF HEAVEN' 43 
 
 LXXII. 
 
 O make ye orchards ; raise the lucious fruit ; 
 
 Put borders on thy gardens ; train the vine 
 
 On mossy arbor ; make old earth divine ; 
 Place marble Cupids by a winding chute 
 Lined with flowers, and statues sculptured mute 
 
 As new first love, uprear in tastv line, 
 
 So poet eye, enraptured by the Nine, 
 May find it Eden, rare and lush and cute. 
 
 And yet is happiness within the heart ; 
 
 You cannot w r in the bulbul's gladsome song 
 In barred cage ; you bury dross in art 
 
 Of Raphaels, yet this you is you ! The throng 
 Carl read your heart in every line ! Bright gold 
 Can never cover sores or wrinkles old ! 
 
 LXXIII. 
 
 With artificial pools, the haunts of fish 
 
 Of varied hue, you may enhance your place 
 
 Of earthly habitation ; yet your face, 
 The index of your mind, will show the wish 
 Itlnfound ; thy goodly friends will come ; but, psh ! 
 
 The vintner, where his vinelets interlace 
 
 In lowlv cottage, goes a better pace. 
 And has contentment in his savory dish. 
 
 So, spread your acres ; build your turrets high ; 
 
 Make deer-parks ; have a dainty hound or so ; 
 Make Michael splendors that shall glad the eye ; 
 
 But still remember woe to you is woe, 
 That though the purple cover with its art, 
 It cannot hide the moanings of the heart !
 
 44 INTIMATIONS OK HEAVKN 
 
 LXXIV. 
 
 Your servants may abound ; your herds may line 
 The everlasting hills ; your heart may swell 
 With natal pride, and life's new Christmas bell 
 
 May ring out gladsomely, and to the eyne 
 
 May come the love of flowers ; the curved sign 
 On marble bust of thee, (like rose in dell,) 
 May add a sweetness, though a faretheewell 
 
 Be in the odor, end in spilled wine ! 
 
 But, hoarded Wealth, has Peace enshrined thy form 
 In happy wreathlets? Has thine ardent friend 
 
 Arrayed thee like the bow across the storm 
 
 In Springtime? Do the colors softly blend 
 
 In unadorned art? O let me lead 
 
 To thatched cottage bordering on the mead ! 
 
 LXXV. 
 
 And you may gather silver, yellow gold 
 
 From hidden mines ; the stringed harps may play 
 Old classic ppems ; night may shine like day 
 
 In Oriental pallor ; citterns old 
 
 In unforgotten songs, in tune unfold 
 
 Their music, flower-boys wreathed, join the lay. 
 Till many-voiced maids, with cutest sway, 
 
 Come hying from the wood or English wold. 
 
 But, trained songsters, can you pipe a song 
 
 To hearts of gloom ? Can great magician's spell 
 Of rapt enchantment veil a single wrong 
 
 With fine delusion? Come across the dell : 
 Her dress is scant ; but look down in her heart ; 
 Her song is sweet, but innocent of art !
 
 INTIMATIONS OF HEAVEN 45 
 
 LXXVI. 
 
 You may be great to outward eye ; the brook 
 
 May babble in your fields ; the sparkling trout 
 May shimmer in your pools ; the sloping route, 
 
 The winding path may lead to osier nook 
 
 O'er tilled field. And yet I read your book 
 
 Of bordered gold ; but you have blotted out 
 Reality ! Cute gold-gods mime and pout ; 
 
 Yet you are you ; you cannot hide that look ! 
 
 So, women, wine and tuned lute can not 
 
 Disguise your self ; for when my lady fades, 
 
 And wine-cups cloy, and softest lute has caught 
 Your melancholy, little shining blades 
 
 Of retribution pierce your callous heart ; 
 
 For you are you yet, under all your art ! 
 
 LXXVII. 
 
 Your heart may dandle every joy. But, come 
 
 With me, a little runlet crosses here ; 
 
 And there, a natural lake is sparkling clear ; 
 Beside the lilacs, where the bees may hum, 
 A rustic grotto smiles; with savory gum 
 
 Spruces are standing ; lusty chanticleer 
 
 Pipes out his clarion to the budding year, 
 With bordering vine and tree and rustic plum. 
 
 And in the midst a cottage. You and I 
 
 Would give our wealth for such a simple home 
 
 Were peace included. But, ah me ! we sigh 
 
 Because we live in France instead of Rome; 
 
 Because our money will not buy us peace ; 
 
 But moss is on the monuments of Greece !
 
 46 INTIMATIONS OF HEAVEN 
 
 LXXVIII. 
 
 But, is there profit in the chase for gold? 
 
 The race is to the swift. A hundred years 
 Will raze us to the dust. Alas ! our tears 
 
 Of life ! what mean they ? With our arms we fold 
 
 A lovely child. A few short years and mould 
 Is on her tomb. From every shadow peers 
 A writhing face, and many a teardrop blears 
 
 The page of life ; and more when hearts are sold ! 
 
 So, fling your wealth in golden showers; lead love 
 And joy and peace across your threshold ; take 
 
 A sip of nectar ; stars will shine above ; 
 
 Throw out your ducats for the children's sake ; 
 
 Divide your gold with love ; for it will be 
 
 A bridge of flowers to Eternity ! 
 
 LXXIX. 
 
 So I was great. Ah ! great in what? In lands? 
 
 In cattle ? sheep ? I see a mother, she 
 
 To me is great in ideality ! 
 He tunes his instruments; and noisy bands, 
 With fifers, stamping feet and clapping hands, 
 
 Are honoring his great glory. But to me 
 
 A higher glory is that sovereignty 
 That crowns a mother in her life's new sands ! 
 
 But greatness is a thing of taste, a whim 
 
 That Fashion names. For one is crowned by Love, 
 And one by Gold, and one by only Him 
 
 Who moves the clouds. I see a star above ; 
 And is it some old dear departed guest 
 Who dying said : "Thy will be done, thou blest! "
 
 INTIMATIONS OF HEAVEN 47 
 
 LXXX. 
 
 And he indulged in every joy ; in art 
 
 With curved line ; in architecture grand 
 As time had seen ; in kine and fertile land ; 
 
 In prancing stallions. Yet how fared his heart ? 
 
 His curios from every foreign mart ; 
 
 His porcelains from distant shores, from strand 
 Unknown, were beautiful ; but hand in hand 
 
 Two lads are happier with a broken cart ! 
 
 And yet was God an essence pure and fine 
 
 Amid his lavishments ; and tho' he cried : 
 "Vanity ! " he felt the great One was divine, 
 And Him of Nazareth they crucified ; 
 
 And yet his pleasure-houses grew apace, 
 
 And were the rare embodiments of grace. 
 
 LXXXI. 
 
 One sings his Annie Laurie, and is king ; 
 
 One pipes a ditty on an oaten reed 
 
 Beneath the stars ; another mounts his steed 
 And rushes on to fame. I cannot sing, 
 And yet I'm happy with a fiddler's string 
 
 And bow. Some pluck the daisies in the mead ; 
 
 Some sit beneath the slanting sun and read 
 The glories of the rainbow in the spring. 
 
 For one hath pleasure in an ambling pad ; 
 
 And one takes pleasure in a boat at sea ; 
 Another still is happier when he's sad, 
 
 And melancholy days are on the lea ; 
 For Autumn odors are like scented breath 
 To him. He loveth to commune with Death!
 
 48 INTIMATIONS OF HEAVEN 
 
 LXXXII. 
 
 So, who shall say that I cannot be I ? 
 
 And who shall say that you shall not be you ? 
 
 One loves the rose ; but I the mournful yew ; 
 Some sail with gas to find an arctic sky ; 
 And one is ruined by a sparkling eye ; 
 
 One loves the i*ose that's beaded in the dew ; 
 
 Another loves it faded ! Skies are blue ; 
 And yet our puzzled life is "Why?" and "Why?" 
 
 We never reach the goal we set. We soar 
 
 Above the clouds. 'Twas but a freak of will ; 
 
 We are brave Nelsons when the breakers roar 
 Against the adamantine rock. The rill 
 
 Has made a river going to the sea; 
 
 But you are you, and we are simply we ! 
 
 LXXXIII. 
 
 But I will build a bridge of flower-s to God ; 
 
 For earth shall pass away. I pay the toll 
 
 To death, and die. But shall I lose mv soul 
 For fleeting earth ? I love the goldenrod ; 
 I love the flower that decks the mouldering sod ; 
 
 I love to see Ambition reach his goal ; 
 
 I'm sad when Sidney Laniers hearses roll, 
 And all my being crieth : "Maud, Maud, Maud ! " 
 
 So, here the gist: "O build for heaven and earth; 
 
 O build thee mansions for the glowing skies 
 Of Immortality ; make second birth 
 
 As pure as vestal love ; sith he who dies 
 A child of earth and heaven withal, may be 
 A kino; of kingdoms in Eternitv !"
 
 INTIMATIONS OF HEAVEN 49 
 
 LXXXIV. 
 
 So, win this world, and dare be true and brave, 
 
 Even when martial music rends the air, 
 
 And people with a wild theatric stare 
 Lose sanity. Earth is but a monstrous Grave ! 
 Ah me ! our proudest flag may float and wave ; 
 
 But Bonapartes are thrown. We climb our stair 
 
 With tinkling steps. And yet how oft Despair 
 Is at the goal, and sings our funeral stave ! 
 
 And yet I'd grasp the very stars ; for life 
 
 Is larger to the curbless soul. He serves 
 
 Who only stands and waits ! But, in the strife 
 I'd mingle. Genius is a mass of nerves 
 
 In Foes ! O me ! to be without desire ; 
 
 May Orphean hands retouch the broken lyre ! 
 
 LXXXV. 
 
 His hand has lost its cunning. Dumb and dead 
 
 The great harp lies. No more the master touch 
 Shall call the melody ; yet his art was such 
 
 The heavenly harmonies he seemed to wed 
 
 In such a married cadence Orpheus shed 
 
 A glory on his head. He wooed much 
 
 In youth and prime. But now his nerveless touch 
 
 Is vain ; for all his art had vanished ! 
 
 And yet he sang his swan-song: "O'er the Bar ! " 
 When Death was knocking at his being's door ; 
 
 He seemed to rise in glory like a star ; 
 
 The Muses took his pen. "Nay, nevermore ! " 
 
 And England's magic singer passed away; 
 
 His ashes honor England's great Abbaye !
 
 50 INTIMATIONS OF HEAVEN 
 
 LXXXVI. 
 
 But why palaver? Who can make a grain 
 
 Of mustard? Yet we Ingersolls have dared 
 To weigh the Universe ! I had despaired 
 
 Myself these years, had not a certain strain 
 
 Of finite reason, told me o'er the main 
 
 A Paradise is waiting ! I'd not cared 
 
 To live this life of earth had my mind shared 
 
 A Voltaire's doubt ! For with it life is vain. 
 
 But people grasp at earth. Long in the night 
 
 The candle burns, and man goes speeding on 
 
 To what? An earthly phantom of delight 
 
 That fadeth with the purple of the dawn ; 
 
 At death he'd have a pocket in his shroud ! 
 
 To die like us he is almost too proud. 
 
 LXXXVII. 
 
 Leave city walls and hie to rural vales ; 
 
 Leave business cares and come across to me ; 
 
 The city is a dull satiety ; 
 
 But come and jump with me the old moss rails ; 
 Let's gad like boys thro' dusky intervales ; 
 
 For here is Nature clothed in rarity ; 
 
 And here is Nature's amplest liberty ; 
 The wildbirds chorus with a thousand gales. 
 
 And then you'll think of God ! For He alone 
 
 Hath made the beechwood flower, the gadding vine 
 
 In beauty's tangled nooks, and on the stone 
 
 Placed mossy loveliness, while lavish wine 
 
 From far ambrosial lands outsparkles red 
 
 Where thousand vines have over-canopied.
 
 INTIMATIONS OF HEAVEN 51 
 
 LXXXVIII. 
 
 And these are Intimations of the Land 
 
 Beyond the stars; since everywhere is God; 
 In meadow vale and waving goldenrod ; 
 
 In woods, and old fence flowers on every hand ; 
 
 The beechen tree with wildly woven strand, 
 Outdoing art in naturalness. The sod 
 With its commingled loveliness, where nod 
 
 The wildflowers, by the Southern zephyrs fanned. 
 
 And so my song is full of Intimations 
 
 Of Heaven, such as every heart may see 
 In vale and valley, in the rare creations 
 
 Of God ! And let me say in song to thee : 
 "Win earth, and all thy heart may rightly crave; 
 But win that other Life beyond the grave ! " 
 
 LXXXIX. 
 
 How beautiful is Lycidas in song! 
 
 How beautiful are flowers upon the walls 
 Of crumbling abbeys ! What fresh coronals 
 
 Has Nature placed upon the grave of wrong ! 
 
 Upon the grave of Pompeys once so strong 
 In glittering Imperialism ! But calls 
 The blackbird by a Caesar's ruined halls, 
 
 And o'er their dust still tramps the Roman throng ! 
 
 For Caesars only won the crown of earth ; 
 
 They only wade thro' slaughter to a throne ; 
 The widow with her mite may win the birth 
 
 That crowns with everlasting life alone ; 
 For did she not give more than all the Jews? 
 But he's not best who sits in costliest pews.
 
 52 INTIMATIONS OF HEAVEN 
 
 In In Memoriam what beauty shines ! 
 
 In Adonais how the thought expands 
 In beauty ! Lycidas in Milton hands 
 
 Is rival ; and the English laureate's lines 
 
 Still crowd them hard. For these are Malmsey wines 
 Of song to me. The grapes of many lands 
 Have made their nectarine. Love's golden strands 
 
 Have bound them. See him hidden in the vines ! 
 
 And so the glory of the sky is here 
 
 In love's untrammeled song. For Muses nine 
 Caught splendors from the heavens above the mere ; 
 
 Put rhythmic numbers in the poet's line, 
 Till such the beauty in their pictured art 
 We tender love's best offerings of the heart. 
 
 XCI. 
 
 Wisdom excelleth folly. Be ye wise 
 
 In preconceived work, and fleeting Time 
 Will give thee lore from Oriental clime 
 
 Where pearls may glitter to enraptured eyes ; 
 
 Where God's great sun in happy, vaulted skies, 
 
 Smiles graciously. And hear the onward chime 
 Of never-ceasing worlds. And yet the rhyme 
 
 Of His new Paradise still hear, since lies 
 
 Heaven forever at the end of life ! 
 
 For though ye win the shekels of the gods, 
 And go about this world in purple, strife, 
 
 Contention, war, shall rage about thee ; sods 
 With Love's heroic blood shall still be red ; 
 But win the bay that crowns the Christian dead !
 
 INTIMATIONS OF HEAVEN 
 XCIL 
 
 The Queen of England ! Here is earthly glory ; 
 
 The Tsar of Russia ! Here is earth renown ; 
 
 Our President may wear Imperial crown 
 And still lose Heaven ! Our Gladstone old and hoary 
 Is crowned by Love ! But Corsicans are gory 
 
 In butchered blood ! And hostile cannon drown 
 
 The cry of Pity ! Some are great in town ; 
 A Stevenson is great in tranced story ! 
 
 And yet I'd call ye from this vain Ambition 
 
 To that great Moment when the highest King 
 
 Must bow ! For Love, and Life, and white Contrition, 
 Are more than these ! Yet, love the purple Spring ; 
 
 The vagrant Summer. But in loving them 
 
 Lose not that never-fading Diadem ! 
 
 XCIII. 
 
 Go under cooling stars, and walk amid 
 
 The quiet glooms, and solitary be ; 
 
 For I would have you touch Eternity 
 Alone ! Go seek the mouldering graveyard hid 
 In tangled briar ; not where doughty Cid 
 
 Lies buried in his pomp, but where the tree 
 
 And amorous vine, in wild serenity, 
 Have made the only earthly pyramid ! 
 
 The tangled brushes cross the path ; and here 
 
 Are Death and old Neglect ! There's not a friend 
 
 To place a flower, no eye to drop the tear 
 
 Of sympathy ! But who can tell the end ! 
 
 For once was beauty nurtured here, the eye 
 
 Of Pitv mutelv turning to the sky !
 
 54 INTIMATIONS OF HEAVEN 
 
 XCIV. 
 
 The mouldering stones make only trite appeal 
 
 To our humanity ; and Memory 
 
 Has lost the chain, once Love and Purity 
 Welded with golden links. The zephyrs steal 
 In crooning lullabies ; but can you feel 
 
 The touch of love ? Some died in Chastity ! 
 
 But who were they ? And did they cross the Sea 
 Of jasper? Only Heaven can reveal ! 
 
 But pause amid this Desolation. Here, 
 Mayhap, a king is buried, or an earl 
 
 Who wore the ermine. Who will shed a tear 
 Above their dust? Red amethyst and pearl, 
 
 Or nectar of the gods can never save ; 
 
 Find Heaven, and conquer mystery of the Grave ! 
 
 XCV. 
 
 But read ye, if ye may, the fate of these ; 
 
 They joined the grand Procession to the Grave ! 
 
 A hundred years, and like an ocean wave 
 They vanish ever, and forever ! Seas 
 Now roll between. But fall upon thy knees, 
 
 And while the waters of Oblivion lave 
 
 The shores of Memory, sing a quiet stave 
 To Death ; for here he has his sovereignties ! 
 
 And while ye kneel, O ask the willing Heart : 
 "Is Earth or Heaven my Principality?" 
 
 I do not curse thee, for I love thine art ; 
 I love the real, great Reality 
 
 Of life. Yet earth shall crumple like scroll ! 
 
 But, will you win it and lose your own soul ?
 
 INTIMATIONS OF HEAVEN 55 
 
 XCVL 
 
 I love to hear the harp in quiet days ; 
 
 I love to hear the birds in jargonings 
 
 Of song ; the crows in guttural caws in Spring's 
 New life ; I love to hear the blackbird's lays 
 Among the wakening hiils ; I love the ways 
 
 Of happy childhood ; and the whirring wings 
 
 Of migratory birds a memory brings 
 To me of ever-vanished yesterdays ! 
 
 And yet I dream my dreams, and visions chase 
 Each other through the channels of delight 
 
 That lead to Him ! For there I see His face 
 A shining glory ! Far across the night 
 
 My vision is a vision unto me 
 
 Where reigns the Nazarene of Galilee ! 
 
 XCVII. 
 
 I love the earth ; how beautiful to me 
 
 No muse can tell ; I love the babbling brook 
 That stealeth to the sea ; I love to look 
 
 At emerald breakers dashing from the sea 
 
 In organ cannonade with majesty ; 
 
 I climb the hills, and like an open book 
 I read the page of Nature. On his crook 
 
 A shepherd leans in rapt tranquillity. 
 
 And these are pictures that have chained my heart 
 
 To earth ! And sometimes comes the thought to me : 
 
 "How can this Heaven be lovelier?" For art 
 And Nature, masterly and curiously, 
 
 Have made our earth so beautiful, I say: 
 
 "Can Paradise be fairer in that Day?"
 
 56 INTIMATIONS OF HEAVEN 
 
 XCVIII. 
 
 But, draw the bow, and be a citizen 
 
 Of wholesome pleasure ; dare to win the love 
 Of minstrel maid. And yet the stars above 
 
 Are looking on thee. Be a denizen 
 
 Of Faery. Yet, beyond your mortal ken 
 A star is shining ; and a spotless dove 
 Is winging. Toss the gem and tinsel glove ; 
 
 Pour out the ink, and lay aside the pen ! 
 
 For, lackaday, the world has won your heart ! 
 
 Ye cannot serve two masters ! So, have done 
 With acting ! Worship 'gen the sculptor's art ; 
 
 The fashioned jewel, and the diamond won 
 From kingdoms in the earth, and drink the wine 
 Of Bacchus, putting off the One divine ! 
 
 XCIX. 
 
 And yet these holy Intimations are 
 
 The true outpourings of a human heart ; 
 I would not clothe them in adorned art ; 
 
 But ere you cross this life's great Harbor Bar, 
 
 O find that fadeless, everlasting Star 
 
 That shines in Heaven ! And then the winged Dart 
 Will lose its sting ! Since in the crowded mart 
 
 E'en Death will come, and Life's funereal car ! 
 
 For, such is life. But life is bounded by 
 
 Death ! Heaven alone will never pass away ; 
 
 So, win this world ; but win across the sky 
 
 That other World ; and when the Judgment Day 
 
 Shall come, a crown of glory shall be thine, 
 
 Beautiful and fadeless from a Hand divine !
 
 INTIMATIONS OF HEAVEN 57 
 
 
 
 c. 
 
 Turn down the glass that held the sparkling wine 
 Of pristine days ; eschew the ballet now, 
 And take the wine-crown from thy wrinkled brow ; 
 
 For these are days that you should be divine 
 
 In heart ; for you are marked by facial line 
 
 Of cards and dice, by. cares that make you bow 
 In gloomy attitude. The great Ship's prow 
 
 Is nearing its last port across the brine ! 
 
 So, let the glad days be a memory gone 
 
 In faded mists. Forget the glittering bar 
 
 With portly tender, and sail surely on 
 
 To that great Haven beyond the western star ; 
 
 For now the glory of the earth is past ! 
 
 'Tis Heaven or Hell you have to face at last ! 
 
 CI. 
 
 The moon has smiled upon thy face ; the skies 
 Have arched their welken over thee ; the stars 
 Have shone upon thee with translucent bars 
 
 Of light ; but soon a mist will cross thine eyes 
 
 Forever ! To his home the eagle flies 
 
 On buoyant wing ; and e'en the pasture bars 
 
 Are just at home ! But you that conquered Mars 
 
 Are homeless ! Out of reach thy heaven lies ! 
 
 So, close the game ; throw down the loaded dice ; 
 
 A knock is on thy door at last ; for Death 
 Is no respecter ! Rules of coarse or nice 
 
 He knoweth not. A pestilential breath, 
 And weeds and lovely flowers together lie ; 
 In losing Life the verv soul shall die !
 
 58 INTIMATIONS OF HEAVEN 
 
 GIL 
 
 Once Love and you went hand in hand, and all 
 
 The skies were flushed with Hope's new radiant smile ; 
 
 You sailed for aye to some Hesperian isle 
 Of song and fruit. No interposing wall 
 Of Eden harrassed. Earth thy banquet-hall 
 
 Of flower and jest and wine. With snare and wile 
 
 Only sweet Eros came in pranked style 
 Of new delights, with many a winding mall. 
 
 But all has changed. The light has faded out; 
 
 The earth seems like a ball of rolling mist ; 
 At last you've ta'en the never-swerving /oute 
 
 Of life. But Love and you have met and kist 
 The last lip-kiss. And yet I'd hold out hope; 
 For e'en at death the Gates of Pearl are ope ! 
 
 CHI. 
 
 You may be sitting at your humble meal ; 
 
 You may be dining with a king in state 
 
 With glittering crown of gold ; but Fate, e'en Fate, 
 Will dog thy steps. The rosy red may steal 
 Across the pallor of thy cheeks ; the peal 
 
 Of tinkling glasses half and half translate 
 
 The music of thy love ; yet added rate 
 And rate, thy coming doom will half reveal. 
 
 So, when the Angel comes to thee with scroll 
 Of faded years, e'en then forget thy gold, 
 
 Thy loves, and from the ruins save thy soul ; 
 
 Since now desire has gone; thou art too old 
 
 To care for petty gewgaws of the earth ; 
 
 Now Heaven is beauteous as a flower at birth.
 
 INTIMATION'S OF HEAVKX 59 
 
 CIV. 
 
 And yet one glimpse, one faint Auroral flush 
 
 Of Life, is all the hoping heart requires 
 
 To toil along to death ; for such desires 
 Are heralds of delight ; and fruits are lush 
 And ripe, and life's new rosy's modest blush 
 
 Is on the cheek, and bands of voiced choirs 
 . Sing seraph songs, and all along the wires 
 Come song-tones like sweet bells in even's hush. 
 
 And yet a throw of chance ; for one transgression 
 Leadeth across the Styx. Thy cap and bells 
 
 May be a safeguard ; for the fool's confession 
 
 Is surely : "Crown sometimes a doom foretells ! " 
 
 Temptation is to those of finer mould ; 
 
 Beauty is sought, and beauty can be sold ! 
 
 He plays life's ditty on a mellow flute ; 
 
 One plays it with a cymbal and a gong ; 
 
 A Burns has sung it in a Highland song ; 
 Another in an attitude as mute 
 As statues dreams it. Down a little chute 
 
 A brook is scampering to a busier throng 
 
 In cities far, perhaps to some Hong Kong ; 
 But who another's song would substitute? 
 
 For you would still be you, and I e'en I ; 
 
 My song may be from out a simple heart ; 
 And you may love in cedar shades to lie ; 
 
 Another still love art for only art ; 
 But what your song, no matter, high or low, 
 Some aimless fingers o'er the strings may go.
 
 60 INTIMATIONS OF HEAVEN 
 
 CVI. 
 
 The clock will strike ; but let it strike at last 
 
 The final stroke. Why should we care for this? 
 We turn our lips to win the farewell kiss 
 
 Of love. Perhaps a kindly hand will cast 
 
 A spray of lilac on our casket. "Hast 
 
 Thou loved us?" In the Aidenn vales of bliss 
 The question may re-echo. Things amiss 
 
 May then be righted when our graves are grassed. 
 
 And yet we lay the old coat by ; the boot 
 
 Is wrinkled, and the clothes are frayed ; and we 
 
 Are worn and running down ; but let them hoot 
 Their owl-notes to the moon, a jasper sea 
 
 Has snowy barque awaiting at the dock, ' 
 
 And heaven is ours no matter what o'clock. 
 
 CVII. 
 
 I do not know ? Go pull the briar and rose ; 
 
 Go win the sailing lily on the stream ; 
 
 And take thy little meed of salt and dream 
 Thy nights away, for these are God. Night knows 
 Her crowned \vhite queen ; and every flower that blows 
 
 On wayside fells. But ope the magic Ream 
 
 Of Life. Thy name is writ thereon ! The gleam 
 Of Paradise is where the west sun goes. 
 
 For you have won the radiance of the stars 
 
 Of white Eternity ! And though the clock 
 
 Strike three or one, to you the silver bars 
 
 Are shining. You have heard the final knock ; 
 
 And crowned for that Valhalla of the skies 
 
 Thy death is sleep to thine immortal eyes.
 
 INTIMATIONS OF HEAVEN 61 
 
 CVIII. 
 
 At old Uxmal palatial ruins lie 
 
 In glorious crown of weeds and gadding vines ; 
 
 And yet a perished hand hath made these lines 
 Of ancient days ; at Teocalli high 
 The mouldering stones are piled. The song, the sigh 
 
 Of winds are here. The red Lepanto wines 
 
 Have drowsed their memory. And the lichen signs 
 Of old Decay are on them, far or nigh. 
 
 The work of man shall perish from the earth ; 
 
 And yet he buildeth better than he knows 
 Who builds a temple for that higher Birth 
 
 Beyond the sun and stars ; and orange bows 
 Shall span above him ; and amrita tree 
 Shall bloom for him beyond mortality! 
 
 CIX. 
 
 This higher criticism ; ah ! What of it ? 
 
 Is God the object of their search ? Is He 
 
 The object solely ? On a chartless sea 
 I fear they sail. What one can spare a bit, 
 A shred of His great book ? Come, go and sit 
 
 At Jesus' feet ! And let the Bible be ; 
 
 The more you tamper, more the Deity 
 Will disappear ; the dove of hope may flit. 
 
 'Tis well enough. We cannot spare the whale, 
 Nor Jonah ; they are sacred to the Book ! 
 
 Take these, as soon destroy the rended Veil, 
 
 Saint Luke, or John, or James ; since as you look 
 
 In these, a hundred things may meet the gaze 
 
 That puzzle you. God's ways are not our ways.
 
 62 INTIMATIONS OF HEAVEN 
 
 Accept the rose ; who put the fragrance there ? 
 
 And see that wildflower by the winding wall : 
 Who placed it there? that ivy crowning all 
 
 In dainty amorousness? Her cheek is fair 
 
 As fragrant flowers, a wreath of golden hair 
 
 Vaileth her face. Are not these wonders? Saul 
 Did miracles. Moss and ivy cover hall 
 
 And palace. Wonders meet us everywhere. 
 
 A blade of grass has mysteries for me ; 
 
 An apple-blossom typifies a thought 
 To some. The great commotion of the sea 
 
 O'erwhelms my heart, and therefore I am not 
 The one to take a single word away 
 From that great Book of books ! 'Tis nay, and nay ! 
 
 We often build to beautv with our thought 
 
 Aerial habitations of delight ; 
 
 We place our statues in them marble white, 
 Till everything to beauty has been wrought ; 
 The pillared roof, the walls with silver bought 
 
 In foreign lands ; the stars that gem the night 
 
 Have lent their lustre, till a happy wight 
 We sit, for all our fancy has been caught. 
 
 So, build these happy fabrics of the brain ; 
 
 Dream dreams and have thv visions of the night ; 
 Be herald of a merry-footed train 
 
 Of joys; but, never let it leave the sight 
 That all this loveliness will sometime fade, 
 And that the last earth-tune may soon be played.
 
 INTIMATIONS OF HEAVEN 63 
 
 CXIL 
 
 One loves his German coat of arms for aye ; 
 
 Another Russian ; and Italian blood 
 
 Would flow for Italy ; and in the mud 
 The hostile foe would trail our Flag. The lay 
 Of Highland clans would sound in Scottish fray 
 
 With pibroch notes. The roses red may bud 
 
 And bloom on all alike. Some Captain Dudd 
 May show his stars ; but I am I that Day ! 
 
 So, empty honors, what are they ? We strut 
 
 With titles and a golden uniform ; 
 But wipe away the battle's grime and smut ; 
 
 Forget the tattered flag, the leaden storm 
 Of strife ; will any gloried shoulder star 
 Be passport sure at that eternal Bar ? 
 
 CXIIT. 
 
 In archaeology of Jewish lands, 
 
 Egyptian or Arcadian, the bard 
 
 May delve ; the scholar here is crowned, starred ; 
 Antiquities. are but the golden sands 
 Of Yukon vales to him ; his velvet hands 
 
 Are soiled by mould ; he 'd give his dearest parH 
 
 To delve in spoils in some Assyrian yard 
 Of old, where not a mausoleum stands. 
 
 But these are earthly loves, the intimations 
 
 Of sure obliteration a~nd old Death ; 
 For all the martial, pantomimic nations 
 
 Of earth have marched with unabated breath 
 To that eternal silence of the Grave, 
 Where only life's defeated banners wave.
 
 04 INTIMATIONS OF HEAVEN 
 
 CXIV. 
 
 Great aqueducts in Roman lands may flow 
 
 With waters of the gods; but best of these, 
 Is great Campagna round old Rome ; are trees 
 
 Amid its ruined glories? Once the bow 
 
 Of happy skies o'erarched here. I know 
 
 Of Asia, Spain and Greece and France, but glees 
 Of wildbirds echo in their ruins. Lees, 
 
 With mournful waves, sing glories long ago. 
 
 So, touch Divinity, and span the years 
 
 Of Time; for Rome and Greece shall pass away 
 Forever ! Statues with their marble tears 
 
 May stand in classic shades ; but when that Day 
 Of days shall come, the monuments will go, 
 The Sphinx and tomb with not a line to show. 
 
 cxv. 
 
 My Preacher telleth there is nothing new 
 
 Under the sun ; so Rome was Rome before, 
 And Paris Paris. On the New World's shore 
 
 New? African or Pole or wandering Jew 
 
 Were here great aeons gone? Beneath the blue 
 I walk ; the little auk may rise and soar 
 Above me. Nay. Extinct. And Nevermore ! 
 
 Is writ on Iceland, Denmark where he flew. 
 
 We build Love's dearest monument to last; 
 
 But soon the ivy finds its chiseled base, 
 And moss obliterates the name. The blast 
 
 Has blacked it.- Few short decades and no trace 
 Remains. But he is building better far 
 Who builds his monument beyond that Star !
 
 INTIMATIONS OF HKAVEN 65 
 
 CXVI. 
 
 But, sing a new song; don't be gloomy, I 
 
 Would touch the riftless flute ; for love and songs 
 And bridal marches, happy-footed throngs 
 
 Of minstrel maids and boys, a starry sky, 
 
 With endless bright processions passing by 
 
 In gala dress, with cymbals, golden gongs 
 
 Of melody, are not classed among life's wrongs, 
 
 But are life's blessings ere the body die. 
 
 The hand that arched the rainbow o'er the storm 
 
 Has rilled our cornucopia with flowers 
 Of every hue ; and we may deck our form 
 
 With fabrics of the loom, and crown the hours 
 With rosy-footed joys. Yet, more than this ; 
 A time will come to take the last earth kiss ! 
 
 CXVII. 
 
 Place ampyx on thy hair, a fillet band 
 
 Of loveliness, a snood of tasty art, 
 
 A diadem, a crown ; but keep thy heart 
 Unsullied. Rings are pretty on the hand, 
 And in the hair an evergreen or strand 
 
 Of laurel. Go in beauty to the mart, 
 
 And ride in nice coupe" or f angled cart, 
 But ever have in view that cloudless land. 
 
 Long-faced Religion, 't is the creed of men ; 
 
 For my religion laughs the whole day long, 
 Sith Paradise is ever in the ken, 
 
 And every heart-pulse leapeth in a song; 
 Nay, nay, religion is to sweeten me. 
 And sweeter make mv sour humanity.
 
 66 INTIMATIONS OF HEAVEN 
 
 CXVIII. 
 
 Pour out the ampul oil ; these sacred things 
 Are beautiful in pure chrismation, I 
 Feel holier with the holier vessels nigh ; 
 
 I love to hear the church-bell when it rings 
 
 Its Sunday matins, or in vespers sings 
 
 Religiously. The stillness of the sky 
 Seems stiller, and as music floateth by 
 
 Dies off in half religious questionings. 
 
 The firebells and the wedding bells may sound 
 In variant note ; but great cathedral bell 
 
 Gives us uncertain sound ; and in a swound 
 Of His religious glory dieth. Spell, 
 
 With images of cherubim, hath held 
 
 Us thralled, as memories from forgotten eld. 
 
 CXIX. 
 
 The Indo-Chinese architecture, grand 
 
 In half fantastic-like imaginings; 
 
 The temple of Confucius with its wings 
 Of sculpture, great Pagoda, make this land 
 Unique ; for here the sculptor's cunning hand 
 
 Hath wrought with inspiration. Yet there clings 
 
 A reverence false, kaleidoscope of things, 
 As purposeless as pictures on the sand. 
 
 And yet hath beauty reveled in this clime ; 
 
 Some phases in a certain line of art 
 Teach that a subtle cunning and a rhyme 
 
 Of trained workmanship in many a part 
 Of Indra's temple, or Madura's fine, 
 Hath made the whole or kindred parts divine.
 
 INTIMATIONS OF HEAVEN 
 CXX. 
 
 Spread dust upon the tablets ; trace for me 
 A diagram of loveliness, and paint 
 Ideal splendors, tracery as faint 
 .As soft Auroral flush, and like a sea 
 
 Of glass, repose in beauty, with the tree, 
 Or vine, or Tuscan abacus ; a saint 
 At vespers, with a holy plea or plaint 
 
 To that white One of ideality. 
 
 And give me Grecian Doric, with the trick 
 Of chiseled workmanship, Corinthian, 
 
 Or Roman Doric ; yet the candle's wick 
 Is burning to its ebb. A Caliban 
 
 May win our true life's everlasting goal. 
 
 Worship this loveliness, but save thy soul. 
 
 CXXI. 
 
 With low abased wing bow not thy head, 
 
 But bear thy chevron like a god, thy shield 
 Of dented glory on contested field 
 
 Of valor ; let no battle's sun set red 
 
 O'er thy defeat, though mountains of the dead 
 A.ppal thee. What thy battle, never yield 
 If Right be on thy banner. And dare wield 
 
 The axe till every hostile foe has fled. 
 
 And yet there is a braver fight for thee ; 
 
 Yet not a host with banners floating high 
 Above a thousand spears, but Purity ! 
 
 The quiet hue of unimpassioned eye ; 
 The half unconscious glory of a soul 
 That leans on God with murmured barcarolle.
 
 68 INTIMATIONS OF HEAVEN 
 
 CXXII. 
 
 Put on thy red abolla ; I have naught 
 
 To wager 'gainst the glory of the land 
 
 Of song and love ; and I would head a band 
 
 Of cloaked centurians ; for every spot 
 
 Of earth is glorified to me. I fought 
 
 The battle of the soul. My works shall stand 
 Imperishable, though the crumbling sand 
 
 Be scattered, if the keystone breaketh not. 
 
 I love the glory of the soldier ; I 
 
 Admire the banners of the rank and file ; 
 
 I love to see Old Glory in the sky, 
 
 The burgee float o'er some historic pile 
 
 Of 1 Britain. Envy hath no place for me, 
 
 But perfect Freedom's universality. 
 
 CXXIII. 
 
 Put deft acanthus on thy pillars ; build 
 
 A thousand glories for thy palace ; rose 
 And intersecting vine commingle; bows 
 
 Of knotted flowers in stone have workman skilled 
 
 Place beautifully, as some divinity willed 
 In realms of loveliness, and in repose 
 Smoothing to love; for dainty tracing goes 
 
 To beautify, and life's glad heart is filled. 
 
 I 'd love to be this king in marble home ; 
 
 I 'd love to sit amid these statues white ; 
 And just as daylight meets the darker gloam 
 
 Of starry eve, and whited queen of night 
 Saileth in sea of clouds. And yet to me 
 That other Mansion shines more gloriously.
 
 INTIMATIONS OF HEAVEN 69 
 
 CXXIV. 
 
 Yea, have your brave aceldama on slope 
 
 Of Hinnom, so it please thee ; but the vale 
 Of Eden booteth more. A boat with sail 
 
 Far out to sea, may hold thine earthly hope, 
 
 And through the sea-night darkness you may grope 
 With only love that dares the starless gale 
 Of heaven ; and this is better far than wail 
 
 On Jewish Hinnom, earth thy horoscope. 
 
 But minds are different ; one adores the muse 
 
 On starred Parnassus ; one aceldama 
 To bury strangers 'neath the mournful yews 
 
 Of some Jehoshaphat ; a falling star 
 Draweth another. .But the intimations 
 Of Him are in minutest earth creations. 
 
 cxxv. 
 
 t 
 
 Yet build your happy Adens in the land ; 
 
 Make earth as beautiful as night when stars 
 -Are dreaming in the blue ; make little bars 
 
 Of song ; go where the breakers roar, and stand 
 
 A crowned Adonis ; make upon the sand 
 
 The pictures of delight, and hum tra las 
 Across the breakers. Now aloft, Jack Tai's, 
 
 And now alow, to rollers on the strand. 
 
 Ye cannot be too happy ; drink the wine 
 
 Of new deliciousness, and brim the glass . 
 
 With juicy splendors of the tipsy vine 
 Of love's imagination ; gem the lass 
 
 With opal clusters. But, O happy wight. 
 
 The Bride awaiteth in her spotless white !
 
 70 INTIMATIONS OF HEAVEN 
 
 CXXVI. 
 
 Let winged Vanessa flit from room to room ; 
 
 Let happy-throated songsters sing in cage ; 
 
 Find gem-like splendors on the classic page 
 Of genius ; have the rarest flow.ers in bloom, 
 And put electric stars amid the gloom 
 
 Of shortened days ; with music's note assuage 
 . The dissonance of thought, and sweeten age 
 With gladness as it walketh to the tomb. 
 
 Grow flowers to scatter all along life's way ; 
 
 Build Paradises in the mind and heart ; 
 Play madrigals to dancing sprite and fay ; 
 
 Touch up thy habitation with the art 
 Of Vinci, make this earth Valhalla fair; 
 And yet a brighter one is waiting There ! 
 
 CXXVII. 
 
 Let Juno's ^Eolus play his harp to thee 
 
 In evening hours; this earth is sad at best; 
 Since you may have a home, a quiet i - est 
 
 Of love ; and soon a jar comes in thy glee ; 
 
 A tear or two, and far across the sea 
 
 Of death, a barque is sailing to the west 
 
 With one so dear ! In white robes she was drest 
 
 'Tis o'er ; the waves are lapping on the lee. 
 
 And yet I'd have you love the fairest child 
 Of God ; but if He taketh one away, 
 
 Be patient. Hath He ta'en one undefined? 
 Yea, be it so ; and better than astray 
 
 In love's defilement. Doth he chasten you ? 
 
 Sometimes the heart is softened 'neath the yew !
 
 INTIMATIONS OF HEAVEN 71 
 
 CXXVIII. 
 
 But, have thy ship ahull ; the storms may rise, 
 The breakers dash against thee, and the roar 
 Of angry waters terrify, the shore 
 
 Look horridly beautiful to frighted eyes 
 
 As into silver cream with emerald dyes 
 
 They dash in glory. When the storm is o'er , 
 The bow, and great ship-clouds no longer pour 
 
 Their rains, but sail away to other skies. 
 
 And so thy heart-ship, keep her e'er ahull ; 
 
 And so thy life-ship, keep her helm aright, 
 So when the sun is sinking leaden, dull, 
 
 And clouds in grand procession cross the light 
 Of Sol, and Storm-King lowers, O thou wilt know 
 Thy ship is safe, and soon will shine the bow. 
 
 CXXIX. 
 
 And put thy winglet ailettes on, and be 
 
 A knight of earned valor, couch thy lance 
 Of tried steel, and Edward first the chance 
 
 Of battle seek, the banner of the free 
 
 Hold high in glory ! Dare to cross a sea 
 
 Of blood for honor ! Let thy charger prance 
 In barded 'ray, and though a battle dance 
 
 Of steeds, let valor crown the revelry ! 
 
 The fight is to the hardy and the brave ; . 
 
 The glory, honor, to the soldier true, 
 And ever make thy country's banner wave, 
 
 But, be a soldier in thy gray or blue ; 
 And yet a braver battle shall be fought 
 Within the heart, with no escutcheon blot.
 
 72 INTIMATIONS OF ^HEAVEN 
 
 cxxx. 
 
 Put on thy hanging alb, thy surplice white 
 
 As snow, and dare be brave as Charlemagne 
 Crossing the Alps ; or wandering, homeless Payne 
 
 In vagrant journeyings ; hide not thy light 
 
 Within the bushel, let it shine as night 
 
 Of summer skies, when not a cloud doth stain 
 The starry vault, with Luna in her reign 
 
 Of cloudless glory, palely pure and bright. 
 
 And then the \vorld will be a fairy land 
 
 To thee, and weed and bush and blooming flower 
 Will take an added beauty, as the hand 
 
 Of Flora, with an untranslated power, 
 Had added loveliness to loveliness 
 Before, and tricked them in a fairer dress. 
 
 CXXXI. 
 
 For I can see a hint of God in all 
 
 This loveliness ; and every sonnet built 
 In linked rhymes, like gems upon the hilt 
 
 Of famed Excalibur, are flowers on wall 
 
 Of Eden unto me. A bird may call 
 
 On briery knoH, an ox-eye daisy tilt 
 
 On old worm fence, a drop of dew be spilt 
 
 From blooming rose, divinity's here withal. 
 
 A hint, suggestion, intimation slight 
 
 As color on the lily, or the first 
 New flush on summer's rose, if read aright, 
 
 May satisfy the heart ; the soul may burst 
 Th' invisible bonds that bind, and ope the door 
 To Heaven, far, far across that silent Shore !
 
 INTIMATIONS OF HEAVEN 73 
 
 CXXXII. 
 
 So, find a revelation in the weeds 
 
 By cow-path, or along the dusty "way 
 
 Where hurried foot has gone ; for night and day 
 
 Have revelations unto him who heeds 
 
 These things. In crimson-tipped flower he reads 
 Life's mysteries ; e'en the dashing of the spray 
 Against the piled shells, hath word to say 
 
 To intimation, nuns with rosary beads. 
 
 For Nature is a self-translated book 
 
 To those who care to read ; and Milton read 
 
 With sealed eye, and Wordsworth with the look 
 Of wisdom, till the primrose flower or dead 
 
 Burns taught him life's acute philosophy, 
 
 The light that never was on land or sea. 
 
 CXXXIII. 
 
 Yea, mount thy white Alborak steed and fly 
 
 To Paradise, to happy Adens far 
 
 Beyorrd the rising, never-setting star 
 Of glory. Vet our earth with spangled sky, 
 And glittering star, a woven banner high 
 
 Above us, is a great round rolling car 
 ' Of grandeur unto me ; and yet the Bar 
 Of Death is 'twixt us where the heavens lie. 
 
 And so as Death is here our latest guest 
 
 On earth, O why not seek that other clime 
 
 Where Death is not? For Edens of the blest 
 Are ever and forever like a rhyme 
 
 Of worlds, the music making music more 
 
 And more, as master organs of that Shore.
 
 74 INTIMATIONS OF HEAVEN 
 
 CXXXIV. 
 
 t 
 
 And though thy alca wings be short for flight 
 Across the ether pure, refined, still 
 Unfurl them on the Pyrenean hill 
 
 Of light, and sail across the stars of night, 
 
 Beyond the crescent moon ; for Death, cold white. 
 Is king of kingdoms here; so, winged quill 
 And pen of gold be laid aside, for rill 
 
 Of death is sounding e'er for lord or knight. 
 
 And yet the glory of this fleeting earth 
 
 Of destined years is lovelier to me 
 Than wedding dreams; it hath a music, mirth, 
 
 A symphony of syllabled minstrelsy, 
 A Beethoven Sonata full. of grand 
 Memorial numbers from a master hand. 
 
 cxxxv. 
 
 And yet be Queen Alcestis in thy heart 
 
 Of hearts, and some Euripides of verse 
 May give thee immortality. The herse 
 
 With empty walls, (where death has sped his dart,) 
 
 May rumble darkly to thy curb ; 'tis part 
 
 Of life ; and so I'd have thee frame no curse ; 
 But be Alcestis in the universe 
 
 Of things, and smile at death's insidious smart. 
 
 For there's a glory of the stars, the sun 
 
 That gilds the hills with beauty, and the moon 
 
 Hanging like shield of silver, and the dun 
 
 Meadows of Autumn, and the cannie Doon 
 
 In Burnsland far ; for I would have you win 
 
 E'en earth, yet have the angels for thy kin.
 
 INTIMATIONS OF HEAVEN 75 
 
 CXXXVI. 
 
 Get Aldine books of beauty ; vases rare 
 
 As Vestal maids, and pictures where the art 
 
 Is perfect art ; read poems to the heart 
 From masters dead or living ; bury Care 
 In flowers ; and grow the peach and mellow pear 
 
 In sunlit orchards ; fetch from foreign mart 
 
 The golden jewel ; let the teardrop start 
 In love, and thou shalt never know Despair ! 
 
 For vases, curios and bric-a-brac, 
 
 Adornments of embellished gold, fine scenes 
 Of sunset lands, all lead along the track 
 
 To Heaven. So, dance across the May-pole greens 
 Of life ; for Eden homes are intimations 
 To me of Life's ideal associations. 
 
 CXXXVII. 
 
 For beautiful associations are 
 
 Akin to things divine ; so beautify 
 
 The mind, and go where quiet waters lie 
 Like silver mirrors ; leap the sanded bar 
 To bowered isle, and dream a flowery car 
 
 Is beai'ing thee, beneath the placid sky, 
 
 To some Hesperides, and heart and eye 
 Will be united, pure as astral star. 
 
 And then will mind and soul according well 
 
 Make music on the gold-strings of the heart ; 
 
 And life will lure thee like a Christabel 
 
 In half retirement ; sith sweet love and art, 
 
 And beauties from a thousand varied climes, 
 
 Make Easter music with no jarring chimes.
 
 76 INTIMATIONS OF HEAVEN 
 
 CXXXVIH. 
 
 Be brave as Algebar ; the Holy Grail 
 
 Will come to thee if thou wilt never faint 
 Beside the way. Have heart and dare to paint 
 
 Ideal pictures. Dare to cross the Vale 
 
 Of Tears, and dare put on thy linked mail 
 And face the foe. I love a nun, a saint 
 Of Christ at vespers, but deplore the taint 
 
 That kills the fruit, the groan and wryed wail. 
 
 So, be a hero. Life's a battle-ground 
 
 To fight the battles of the clays that fill 
 
 Our years ; and never faint at martial sound, 
 
 The roll of drum, but storm the Lookout Hill, 
 
 The high redoubt, the battled palisade ; 
 
 And yet this panorama all will fade ! 
 
 CXXXIX. 
 
 But though a Washington in glory's cause; 
 And though a Wellington at Waterloo, 
 An Anton Seidl's'fate may come to you 
 
 In Wagner's funeral march of death ; so pause 
 
 And think on death to be ; for all his laws 
 
 Are rigid and unchanging. Dare be true 
 To self, and when thy star sets in the blue 
 
 Bright sky, crowned Love will say: "A god he was!" 
 
 For Caesar felt the flush of life, and Grant 
 And Hannibal, and mighty Corsican; 
 
 But waves rolled o'er them like a mad Nahant, 
 And Death the victor, stormed the barbacan 
 
 Of life, and earthly fame was gulfed in death, 
 
 For life to high or low is but a breath !
 
 INTIMATIONS OK HEAVEN 77 
 
 CXL. 
 
 The stately minuet in Pleasure's halls ; 
 The light fandango with the Castanet 
 In Moorish lands ; the dance on fine parquette 
 
 With Gipsy sylph ; our land's Inaugural balls, 
 
 May lure the heart ; the prompter's noisy calls ; 
 The grand orchestral notes ; the lips still wet 
 With dance-wine dew ; and yet, O Dancer ! yet 
 
 Music hath fled from Tara's mouldered walls. 
 
 For music of the earth will cease at last ; 
 
 The whirling waltz, the giddy dance, will end ; 
 But when the fiddle stops, the tone has passed 
 
 Into an utter silence, will it blend 
 With Death's processional music to the tomb. 
 When loveliest parterres no longer bloom ? 
 
 CXLI. 
 
 Your gold may build an earthly abatis 
 
 With forked pickets, scarp and parapet, 
 And you may pay to earth the goodlv debt 
 
 Of earthiness ; and yet the farewell kiss 
 
 Of Vestal love, when life has lost its bliss, 
 Its song, would be as sweet as castanet 
 In hand of Spanish love-maid, when regret 
 
 Is all remains to crown a life amiss. 
 
 So, crumple up life's luring manuscript, 
 
 And lay aside the gauds and tinsel dress 
 Of worldliness ; for dancing maids have tript 
 
 To earthly measures ; and their last caress 
 Will leave the sting of long-abused wine, 
 Specious and lovely as a Geraldine !
 
 78 INTIMATIONS OF HEAVEN 
 
 CXLII. 
 
 Have dainty candelabra in thy rooms 
 
 Of pleasure ; have thy branched chandelier 
 Alight, and have Etruscan vase as clear 
 
 As still Utopian streams, exotic blooms 
 
 And odorous flowers ; have little quiet glooms 
 For half concealed nudeness, pictures dear 
 To vanished days, an artificial mere, 
 
 And on it fairy ships with -shining booms. 
 
 And have thy harps and changing aithrioscope, 
 And all the handiwork of chiseled art 
 
 From far Italian clime ; have carved Hope, 
 Euterpe, Queen of lyric verse, and heart 
 
 And soul will have their highest earthly wish ! 
 
 Is satisfaction in this dainty dish ? 
 
 CXLIII. 
 
 And yet I'd have a world of art for thee, 
 
 The song-bird, mock-bird, and the bobolink, 
 The bullfinch, and a little whirling rink 
 
 Of treasures; busts of captains dead at sea, 
 
 And Termini of old antiquity, 
 
 And philosophic Hermes ; dainty pink 
 And rose, festooning chains with golden link 
 
 And swivel, every kind of fruit and tree. 
 
 And little silver turnstiles, golden crowned ; 
 
 And noiseless gates of filigree ; in sooth ! 
 The cravings of the heart in Coma swound 
 
 Of earth deliciousness. And yet that booth 
 Of hewed boards, so oft a laugh at Art, 
 Has held the best effusions of the heart !
 
 INTIMATIONS OF HEAVEN 79 
 
 CXLIV. 
 
 A Portland vase is just as dear to me ; 
 
 Mosaic work and parquetry, the nave 
 
 In pillared church, the Anton Seidl stave 
 Of Wagner song, and orientally 
 Exhumed statuary, melody 
 
 Of tranced Mozarts ; and the cypress grave 
 
 I'd beautify, the streets of earth I'd pave 
 With hope and joy and love eternally. 
 
 For earth can be a paradise, a place 
 
 Of peace and song and glory, and a land 
 
 Of pure delight. So, turn thy wrinkled face 
 Away from lust, be leader of a band 
 
 Of happy mortals destined for the skies 
 
 Of blinding beauty to our human eves. 
 
 CXLV. 
 
 Have not the Shelleys beautified our life 
 
 In song and art? The Tennysons have made 
 
 A witching music in the soul, arrayed 
 In more than earthly glory. Battled strife 
 Disarmed by melody ! So, sheathe the knife 
 
 Of slaughter, make no red embattled raid, 
 
 But woo all music, for the leaf will fade, 
 The flower, and death will crown the happiest wife. 
 
 For in the grand ovations of this world 
 
 Of fleeting loveliness, all things will perish ; 
 
 No matter how your banner is unfurled, 
 
 No matter how the fondest heart may cherish 
 
 The things of earth, and so my song to thee . 
 
 Is : Win this world and Immortality !
 
 80 INTIMATIONS OF HEAVEN 
 
 CXLVI. 
 
 Wear Venus' cestus to awaken love 
 
 And joy in thousand hearts ; have marble boys, 
 
 And Caryates fair ; and mixed alloys 
 Of shining beauty ; have a silvery dove 
 In winged marble, spangled stars above, 
 
 A little artificial sky, and joys 
 
 In alabaster, fabricated toys, 
 And silver boats that dainty hands may shove. 
 
 Have chiseled obelisk or corbel niche 
 
 With fine ogee or moulding rare, a nook 
 
 Of builded marbles, tapestries so rich 
 In Oriental handiwork, a book 
 
 Of poems hath no fine allurements. Yet 
 
 How vain, how vain, when dying eyes are wet ! 
 
 CXLVII. 
 
 Have clustered columns, carved balustrade, 
 The wave-like cyma, dainty fret and foils, 
 The feathery foliations, vines in coils 
 
 And quirks of beauty, and a masquerade 
 
 Of undisguised loves, no pasquinade 
 
 Of low lampoonry, not a word that soils ; 
 Sith here are knights who only use the foils 
 
 Of Peace ! And yet this fabric fair will fade ! 
 
 And yet I'd pile the wealth of Ind for thee, 
 
 The treasures of a thousand shores, this earth 
 
 Would make as beautiful as love, a sea 
 Of never-ending glory ; yet, in mirth, 
 
 In worldly splendors have one thought for Him, 
 
 For all thy proud mirage will soon be dim !
 
 INTIMATIONS OF HEAVEN 81 
 
 CXLVIII 1 , 
 
 I have no word against a happy life ; 
 
 I have no word against a happy home ; 
 
 I'd have another Golden Age of Rome 
 For thee ; I'd have the banishment of strife, 
 The quick dethronement of all war ; the knife 
 
 Of Spaniard I would sheathe ; the golden Tome ( 
 
 Translate for every country where the gloam 
 Is thickest, when the hostile word is rife. 
 
 I'd cix>wn McKinley with the Wreath of Peace ; 
 
 I'd crown the world, the Regent Queen of Spain ; 
 My Country with the glory that was Greece, 
 
 If Love shall reign ! Above the mangled slain 
 I'd drop the tear of Pity ; for this world 
 Is Love. No hostile banner be unfurled ! 
 
 CXLIX. 
 
 So, build thy castles in the air, but think 
 
 On Death ! Have pleasure-houses if you will, 
 But, listen for that Voice so small and still ; 
 
 Have pastures green, the lily, rose and pink ; 
 
 But, weld for aye life's breaking, broken link ; 
 And build thy mansion en a lordly hill ; 
 But night and day there is a quiet rill 
 
 Running, and soon 'twill reach the final Brink ! 
 
 So, in these Intimations find the route 
 
 Of glory ; dare inherit beauties here 
 On earth ; but never let the lamp go out 
 
 That lights the way beyond the shedded tear ; 
 For life at best is but a passing dream 
 Of Faery, thousands lost upon the Stream !
 
 S'2 INTIMATIONS OF HEAVEN 
 
 CL. 
 
 But now farewell, a poet's last adieu ; 
 
 A happy singer's last, his parting word ; 
 
 His song was not the song of nesting bird 
 In quiet nooks, but trumpet sounds to you ! 
 And never bard more honest trumpet blew 
 Unto his clan ! For with this age I'm stirred 
 
 To might, since these are doublings I have heard 
 ''I doubt mv Bible and old things and new ! " 
 
 But I : "Have faith, for life is full of good ; 
 
 Large-hearted men and noble women live ; 
 I like to go where Beecher Stowes have stood ! 
 
 I know a million silent hands will give ; 
 I know that though a darkness pall the night. 
 Behind it till the great sun shineth bright! "
 
 THE LADY OF SANTA ROSA
 
 THE LADY OF SANTA ROSA 
 
 DRAMATIS PERSONS 
 
 ANSO, High Priest of Saturn. 
 DON MIGUEL, cousin of Inez. 
 LOLA MORENO, a Gitano dancing girl. 
 DOLORES DE CASTRO, a Spanish beauty. 
 PRINCE HENRIQUE, son of a foreign duke. 
 SENORITA INEZ, Don Miguel's cousin. 
 ALBERTI, Lola's gipsy lover. 
 MIDDLE, a street clown. 
 
 ACT I. 
 
 SCENE I. 
 
 Place, SPAIN. In a room of FATHER ANSO. 
 Enter DON MIGUEL. 
 
 Don Mig. A goodly morning to you, Father Anso. 
 
 Anso. It is a goodly morning, Miguel. 
 But mornings are not new to hoary Spain ; 
 Since long, long years ago, ere Spaniard lived, 
 Or goodly Spain was in the almanac 
 Of time, did mornings blush upon the earth, 
 The hoary hills, the mountains vast aifd grand ; 
 And e'en when swarthy Moors held martial sway, 
 And with their valor dared to conquer kingdoms.
 
 86 THE LADY OF SANTA KOSA 
 
 Don Mig. Thy language is as ancient as the hills 
 Of Spanish empires; thine ideas are gray 
 As time himself. But ever did old men 
 Return to buried past, to times agone 
 Adown the centuries, and so far away 
 That younger men like me are lost in whirl 
 Of multitudinous years. But, holy father, 
 Pray tell me what thou fashionest with ardor 
 And undenied desire. Since all thy face. 
 Thy manner, doth betray thine adoration. 
 
 Anso. Young man, thou art as splendid as the sun ; 
 Thou art as brilliant as the gloried sky ; 
 And in thy courtly dress of hat and feathers, 
 And buckled breeches, broidered, flowing waist, 
 With flowered shoe, and tinseled, silk-like stockings, 
 And worked by lady's dainty hand, thy sword 
 With diamonds decked, and filigree-like handle. 
 Thou art, believe me, Don, the greatest knight 
 And courtier in all Spain. Men envy thee. 
 
 Don Mig. I did not come to woo thy . flattery ; 
 For such as I need not the lying tongue 
 Of Spain's society. I'm as independent 
 As greatest lord of Cadiz or Peru, 
 Or any count of Mediterranean waters 
 That babble out their old salt song. 'Tis I, 
 
 Priest of Saturn, and no other lord ; 
 
 So, tell me of thy workmanship, this thing 
 That thou dost fashion to such comely shape. 
 
 Anso. By all the powers of heaven and lower earth, 
 
 1 mark thee for a god of trouble. Beauty 
 Like thine, and courtliness, and prowess rare,
 
 THE LADY OK SANTA ROSA 87 
 
 Will lead to old temptation, which hath sat 
 On life's "high parapet and watched for prey 
 In coming babe ; for loveliness in maid ; 
 For glory, comeliness in thoughtless man ; 
 For gloried fame in some Homeric hero ; 
 A soldier of a fortune high as captains ; 
 And thus thy dazzling presence will outshine 
 Thine earthly rivals, till Don Miguel 
 Becometh star of finest magnitude. 
 
 Don Mig. And thereby falleth from his firmament. 
 
 Anso. Unless thou hast an old man's fortitude, 
 And such a self-restraint as only gray 
 Hairs have. 
 
 Don Mig. Then will I paint my hair as white 
 As hoary snows of winters; for if wisdom, 
 And fortitude, and self-restraint, and glory 
 Are the constituent parts of white-haired age, 
 Then, Father Anso, I, Don Miguel 
 De Santa Rosa de Granada, will 
 Grow old so fast my hair becometh white 
 In single night. 
 
 Anso. He maketh light of me ! 
 
 Don Mig. I beg thy priestly pardon ; I must have 
 My courtly pun. But, hearken, Priest of Saturn, 
 There's not a man in Cadiz, ay ! Nor Spain, 
 Who beareth greater love for thee ; since thou 
 Art wise beyond thy times. Thou art a prophet, 
 A seer. And were I in a troublous state 
 Of mind, to thee I'd hie. 
 
 Anso. Then thou art troubled ? 
 
 Old love, forever new, hath late beset thee,
 
 88 THE LADY OF SANTA ROSA 
 
 And, like a cobra, still retains his hold. 
 
 Don Mig. Then thou hast heard of this Don's love ? 
 
 I see ! 
 
 All Spain will soon reiterate the story. 
 But, hark, my Father Anso, I have come 
 To visit thee with such a tale of love 
 That e'en the stars do weep. So, lend thine ear. 
 
 Anso. I will. Tho' new this love to thee, 'tis old 
 To earth as life. 'Tis old to me. But, speak ; 
 For love hath winged feet and tongue, and sleeps 
 Not till his enemies and friends alike 
 Do hear his tale of worldly lamentation. 
 
 Don Mig. Thou talkest as old love had late de 
 throned thee. 
 
 But, listen to my tale ; for such my love 
 No man e'er knew or felt a sweeter. I 
 Lie down at night on grassy mead, and there 
 Beneath the whited stars, I see my love ; 
 In draperied room, in festooned bed, I dream 
 Of beauty's things, the loveliness of ladies' 
 Eyes. Lying half asleep in semblance strange 
 Of death, I paint with Raphael beauty, love, 
 Love, love, with such a train of rare delights, 
 And pleasures, joys and dainty ecstasies, 
 That, Father Anso, I would die the death 
 Of love, if 'twould not break two loving hearts. 
 
 Anso. Thy love is new as newly kenned star? 
 
 Don Mig. And brighter far than sweet Andromeda. 
 
 Anso. And sorely it doth trouble thee? 
 
 Don Mig. Yea, father ; 
 
 And now I come to thee for solace rare ; 
 Since, go I 'meng my kinder friends, they smile ;
 
 THE LADY OF SANTA ROSA 89 
 
 And 'inong unkindlier, their lips do curl ; 
 So, unto thee I turn as one who will 
 Judge me precisely, at my finest worth. 
 
 Anso. Then sit thee by me, as by stroke of hand, 
 And soothing word, to thy responsive eye 
 I'd lend the glory of mine age, and paint 
 The picture of thy love-led life. Now speak. 
 
 Don Mig. Her name hath music, voweled too and round, 
 Dolores ! Was there ever such a name ? 
 'Tis sweet as nectar in old bottles found, 
 With such aroma unto me, that life 
 Goes double in its sweetness. Love I sleep, 
 And love I dream. 'Tis all my life's new business. 
 
 Anso. And never busier man than thou, Granada ; 
 For love will give a wink of sleep when poppy 
 Leaves, drunk in wine, do hide the petty thought ; 
 Since just so long as thought remaineth stable, 
 Is paramount, so long will love delay 
 The hour of sleep. But bards have sung Dolores. 
 
 Don Mig. For such her beauty, such her ravishment. 
 
 Anso. But is she not in everybody's mouth? 
 
 Don Mig. Aye, beggar, lord and count and courtly 
 knight ! 
 
 Anso. Then jealousy may yet beset thy heart, 
 Since every courtly clown doth homage pay. 
 
 Don Mig. But I'm a better, since with welded sword 
 I'll hurl them all to native dust, and she 
 Will hold me high in favor as the hero 
 Of many battles. 
 
 Anso. Once the glory gone. 
 
 The cute enravishment that clothes a name 
 In lustrous beauty, and Don Miguel
 
 90 THE LADY OF SANTA ROSA 
 
 Becometh tame, a man without 'his art; 
 A duteous husband with a rusting sword, 
 His epaulets displaced and shoulder-star. 
 
 Don Mig. Then unto newer battles will I turn ; 
 Call forth all doughty heroes of the brand, 
 And say : I offer unto thee Dolores 
 As beauteous prize ; and any swordsman dare 
 To face Granada, hath her hand in fee, 
 If hap so shape his fortune ! 
 
 Anso. Said e'en well, 
 
 Don Miguel. But, hearken. What I build 
 With rarest divination, as you asked me, 
 Is blessed heart of Santa Rosa. Such 
 An amulet as sons of old Poseidon 
 Dared worship in their lowly holiness. 
 'Twas at this time, Don Miguel, long gone, 
 Long years ago. The Trident then was used 
 By sons of old Poseidon as the symbol ( 
 
 Of fair Atlante. 
 
 Don Mig, Yet from what was 't made ? 
 
 Anso. 'Twas fashioned from a great fire opal, which 
 Was purchased at old Atlan of the west, . 
 An amulet as beautiful as life ; 
 As pure as holy heaven's whitest star, 
 And valuable beyond imagination ! 
 I prize it as the apple of mine eye, 
 And, too, as dearest daughter of my heart; 
 And touched on holy week, it giveth peace, 
 Tranquillity and hope, enlightenment 
 Spiritual. 
 
 Don Mig. Then will I dare possess it, father, 
 As talisman, an amulet of love,
 
 THE LADY OF SANTA ROSA 91 
 
 An anchor to my soul, a charm to make 
 E'en better days for darling love and I, 
 To sweeten mine already sweetened love, 
 And make my dreams as beautiful as Cupids 
 Who wing their way in night-time o'er the couches 
 Of old new lords of love, till lovely Cadiz 
 Seems full of Spanish maids and brilliant ladies ! 
 
 Anso. Thou art. full sick with love, Don Miguel; 
 And e'en thy waking evening hour is dream 
 To thee, since I am dead these hundred years ! 
 
 Don Mig. Dead? Anso, thou art riddle of the gods, 
 And, Ate-like, thou wouldst befuddle me 
 With hate and old revenge. But love tells true 
 Thou art no ghost, but ghost tho' thou mayst be ; 
 Yet linger with thine Atlan story, since, 
 
 Priest of Saturn, I have come to thee 
 With many a piteous tale ; for love besets me 
 Upon three several sides. 
 
 Anso. I am a ghost ; 
 
 But tell thine everlasting tale, since love 
 Hath thousand tongues, and stories sweetened rare, 
 And ''s never done till lady sleepeth last 
 In marble tomb of unrelenting death ; 
 But speak, Granada ; love is never old. 
 
 Don Mig. Upon three several sides I am beset : 
 Upon my wicked side, because my sword 
 
 1 carry there, fair wild Gitano sits, 
 The dancing girl of Gades, with a skin 
 Olive, and eyes as dark as midnight skies, 
 
 A beggar beauty whose bright dagger, father, 
 Would cut my heart for unrequited love. 
 
 Anso. A dangerous lass is this Moreno, Don ;
 
 92 THE LADY OF SANTA ROSA 
 
 Her race is treacherous. Love her, all is well. 
 
 Don Mig. I love her as the gadfly or the jackdaw, 
 As cat the mouse, the boy the butterfly, 
 A prisoner his cell, a queen her throne. 
 
 Anso. Why riddle thus? Thou lov'st her for the hour? 
 She is thy beer, but not thy luscious wine? 
 
 Don Mig. Yea, common as my beer, mine ancient sack ; 
 But Cousin Inez ! Ah, High Priest of Saturn, 
 She 's jewel- fashioned finely. Born a beauty, 
 She yet sits on the north of my affections ; 
 Since though as lovely as a star, as pure, 
 I hate her ; for I 'm plighted by my father, 
 Her father. 
 
 Anso. 'Tis love's old, old story, Don. 
 
 Don Mig. To keep the name of Santa Rosa, father, 
 Imperishable in the realm of Spain, 
 Don Pedro Santa Rosa de Granada, 
 Father of Inez, and mine old ambitious 
 Pa, touched their Spanish noses o'er their wine, 
 And plighted us for life, eternity ; 
 But little caring for this Inez, father. 
 Yet hear my story. She was foolish eight, 
 And I sixteen, when o'er their Gascon wine 
 They plighted us. Forsooth ! Two paltry knaves 
 Who only money had in winy thought. 
 I know she's fair as lilies of the valley, 
 As pure as Geyser waters, lucent wines, 
 That she is heiress to the Santa Rosa 
 Estates. 
 
 Anso. In case of her demise? 
 
 Don Mig. Then, father, 
 
 All Santa Rosa lands revert to me.
 
 THE LADY OP SANTA ROSA 93 
 
 Anso. And thou dost marry her? 
 
 Don Mig. 'Tis but the same. 
 
 Yet, listen. Still another findeth place 
 Within my heart. 
 
 Anso. Thou hast a triple love? 
 
 Don Mig. Indeed ! But out of such a brilliant three 
 I choose Dolores Castro ! She is fair ; 
 The glory of Seville ; and can be had 
 Just for the winning. 
 
 Anso. Let me tell thee now, 
 
 Forever ! Choose fair Inez for thy wife, 
 And all thine earthly troubles will be o'er. 
 
 Don Mig. Forbear, oh Priest of Saturn ! Love will 
 guide. 
 
 Anso. Once married to Dolores, trouble, trouble. 
 
 Don Mig. But love is mine immortal counterpart. 
 
 Anso. Once wedded to the dark Moreno, life 
 Will be a farce or tragedy of old. 
 
 Don Mig. Believe me, Anso, thou art very ghost ; 
 For I am sleeping here upon the public 
 Stage, aye ! the world's great rostrum, where we actors 
 But do our unavoidable parts, and quick 
 Retire from life and hoary seeming death, 
 To turn to native dust, the food for worms 
 And all things vile. But, father, answer me, 
 What makest thou ? 'Tis rare beyond compare, 
 And fills me with a kind of holiness. 
 
 Anso. Young man, I am the shade of other years ; 
 Am resurrected from a past so distant, 
 It is forgot, and things of now seem strange 
 And wonderful. But since I 'm here amid 
 Thy dreaming hours, I '11 tell thee all my story-.
 
 94 THE LADY OF SANTA KOSA 
 
 I am the Priest of Saturn. I am mighty 
 
 In spirituality. Goodness is my business. 
 
 I lived when th' Trident was the symbol of 
 
 Atlantic, when the prows of all her vessels 
 
 Spread fame throughout the kingdoms of the world ; 
 
 Her colonies did flourish from Peru, 
 
 Central America, Spain, and Ireland, Egypt, 
 
 The Mediterranean, ay ! the then known world. 
 
 With knowledge strange, occult of hidden things, 
 
 I sought this Atlan opal, rare and fine ; 
 
 To amulet in shape of human heart 
 
 I fashioned it, a gem, a rarity ; 
 
 And whoso doth possess it, hath protection 
 
 From Ate, Nemesis, and all bad gods. 
 
 Don Mig. But who so lucky as to gain its keeping? 
 
 Anso. To him, who was a ruler o'er proud Gades, 
 My nephew, was the amulet presented. (Ex. ANSO, 
 
 Don ^fig- (Aside.} St ! Mark ye, I, Granada, must 
 
 possess it. 
 
 Now out upon thee as a priestly coward ! 
 What ! Gone ? And not a footfall ? I alone ? 
 What means it ? Were it gray old dawn of day, 
 I'd have the explanation in my wine-cups ; 
 But, lo ! 'Tis only evening, and my head's 
 As clear as cowbell flower or buttercup 
 In daisied meads. My three green loves, Dolores, 
 Moreno, and my cousin rare, have turned 
 My head ; I'm drunk with interlacing sweets ; 
 I'm dreaming, or 't 's hallucination strange. 
 No Priest of Saturn here ? What doth it mean ? 
 'Tis strange, aye, strange. It mimes with gaunt old meanings 
 And 's \varning unto me in all my loves.
 
 THE LADY OF SANTA ROSA , 95 
 
 I'll hence to Santa Rosa's house, in Cadiz, 
 And he shall tell me of this new Atlantis. 
 Enter PRINCE HENRIQUE. 
 Henrique. Ha, ha ! And fools do dream upon their 
 
 legs, 
 
 Their eves wide staring. Priest of Saturn ! Ha, 
 My feathered lord, he's dead these thousand years. 
 
 Don Mig. What villain clown is this? {Drawing his 
 
 sword. ) 
 Henrique. 'Tis Prince 
 
 Henrique ! 
 
 Don Mig. A prince? Forsooth! 
 
 Henrique. A prince, forsooth ! 
 
 Don Mig. A 
 
 coward ! 
 
 Henrique. Dost lose thy courtly temper? 
 Don Mig. Aye, false 
 
 prince ! 
 
 Henrique. At home, and such a coui'tier lord as thou 
 Had tasted this late red Damascus blade. 
 
 Don Mig. A quarrel's not for time nor place. 
 Henrique. Then 
 
 cross ! * 
 
 Don Mig. My basket-hilted sword is good as thine ; 
 So, have a care, and guard thy treacherous heart ; 
 And back, or I shall run thee through, petard ! 
 
 Henrique. Thy guard, Sir Boaster, or thy Spanish 
 
 blood 
 Shall dye thy footing-place. 
 
 Don Mig. 'Tis thine to win, 
 
 If so thou handle thy good sword. Come, prince ! 
 ( They fence rapidly for a moment. HENRIQUE suddenly 
 draws back.
 
 96 i THE LADY OF SANTA ROSA 
 
 Henrique. Thou art a pretty swordsman. 
 
 Don Mig. So art thou. 
 
 Henrique. Come, let's be friends; we seem of liker 
 
 metal ; 
 And here's my hand. 
 
 Don Mig. And mine in kindly token. 
 
 Henrique. Now tell me who thou art : because one man 
 Alone in Spain can wield the sword like thee. 
 
 Don Mig. His name? 
 
 Henrique. Don Miguel de Santa Rosa 
 
 Granada. 
 
 Don Mig. "Pis mine own name ; and but one 
 Can face me, sire, as thou hast. 'Tis the son. 
 Plumed sirrah ! of the Duke of old Medina 
 Sidonia. Art thou he, a stranger here? 
 
 Henrique. I am ; and we shall have no further quarrel 
 Until some gypsy maid divide her love. 
 But, hark. The Priest of Saturn was thy theme; 
 And wast thou fooling with thy courtly self? 
 
 Don Mig. Not I ; for Anso walked these boards to 
 night. 
 And only on your quick arrival "went. 
 
 Henrique. Beneath the eaves I heard thy talk, and saw 
 No man, not e'en the semblance of a ghost ; 
 And to myself I said : This man's a fool, 
 For he doth prate of love to hoary shadows ; 
 He talks of dancing girls of wild Gitano 
 Blood. 
 
 Don Mig. Careful ! 
 
 Henrique. And of some Dolores fair. 
 
 Don Mig. My sword is itching for patrician blood. 
 
 Henrique. Thine easy angers may cost blood, and thine !
 
 THE LADY OF SANTA ROSA 97 
 
 Don Mig . Defy me not, O false and foreign prince ! 
 
 Henrique. And further in this rare delightful story, 
 We hear of Inez. To thine old guitarra 
 Dost sing: O wild Lolita? 
 
 Don Mig. Dost thou toy? 
 
 Henrique. And then on softer strings, in cadence rare, 
 O, dear Dolores, fair Dolores. 
 
 Don Mig. Scoundrel ! 
 
 Henrique. And then a string to love, e'en pathos tuned : 
 Oh, fairest Inez, angels guard thy couch. 
 
 Don Mig. Hast come to Spain to lose thy foreign 
 blood? 
 
 Henrique. And ail thy loves were queen : Moreno 
 
 wild ; 
 Dolores fair, and Inez rare. 
 
 Don Mig. Get hence, 
 
 Or draw ! 
 
 Henrique. My sword? Nay, Cupid draws his courtier, 
 His blatant lord, and with a spider string 
 So fine, my Miguel deems he leads the battle. 
 Have done with such sweet folly, for 'twill sour thee ; 
 Give sleepless nights, a lusty, fool-hard temper ; 
 A spite for quarrels with a saucy style. 
 
 Don Mig. Sir, were I not so late in priestly presence, 
 A foreign prince had bit our Spanish dust. 
 
 Henrique. I've come not here to brew a Spanish 
 
 quarrel ; 
 
 My heart is love ; my sword is love ; my thought. 
 Come, come, Don Miguel, wilt share thy loves? 
 Let wild Lolita be my gypsy nymph. 
 
 Don Mig. Prince, take her ; I've no quaiTel for Moreno. 
 
 Henrique. Two loves are more than feast, e'en for a
 
 98 THE LADY OF SANTA ROSA 
 
 lord ; 
 So, let the Donna Inez be my prize. 
 
 Don Mig. When babes in years, our fathers plighted us. 
 
 Henrique. Then even she shall be my wedless bride ? 
 
 Don Mig. A thousand yeses. She's my cousin fair. 
 
 Henrique. My titles, Miguel, are high as thine. 
 
 Don Mig. No doubt can enter. 
 
 Henrique. For the doors are shut. 
 
 But tell me, are we not well met? 
 
 Don Mig. As courtiers? 
 
 Henrique. And swordsmen of the finest ardor? 
 
 Don Mig. Aye ! 
 
 Henrique. And so of every capon we must share 
 A leg. 
 
 Don Mig. And half and half of wing and breast. 
 
 Henrique. But thou shalt have the tail, for thou art last. 
 
 Don Mig. I read thy sarcasm in thy words and manners ; 
 Yet dare resolve this riddle ; for my business 
 Doth draw me hard. 
 
 Henrique. And e'en as hangman's rope. 
 
 Don Mig. Hark, sirrah ! I have done with innuendoes. 
 
 Henrique. Then draw, and briefest time shall settle it ! 
 ( They commence action, when -with a scream, LOLITA MO 
 RENO springs between them. 
 
 Lolita. Oh, Miguel, don't lose thy life for such ! 
 
 Henrique. What jade is this ? 
 
 Lolita. A dancing girl of Spain ! 
 
 Don Mig. And I '11 defend her with my life. Aside ! 
 
 Henrique. Wilt draw thy sword for such a strumpet? 
 
 Lolita. Yes ! 
 
 Henrique. Then faretheewell, my doughty hero. Bye ! 
 (Ex. HENRIQUE.
 
 THE LADY OF SANTA ROSA 99 
 
 Lolita. And never cast thy shadows more in Spain. 
 Don Mig. Lolita, mind him not ; my love for thee 
 Is boisterous as the brooks of Cadiz. 
 
 Lolita. Yes. 
 
 Don Mig. And ever shall my sword defend thee, darling. 
 Come, let me lead thee to this rustic seat, 
 And with mine old guitarra will we while 
 A passing hour, and in such songs to thee, 
 That dark Moreno's heart shall beat in tune ; 
 And then the grave old saraband may dance. 
 There, my Gitano, what is this but loving? 
 If every courtier, duke or titled lord, 
 Should act his heart, the dancing girls of Spain 
 Would lead them to the altar. Now a dance, 
 And o'er the silk and silver strings I '11 wander, 
 While featly thou wilt foot it like a sylph. 
 
 Lolita. Love's blind; but I will dance his old fandango. 
 
 {Dances. 
 
 Don Mig. Ha, that is fine as Moorish maid, Moreno. 
 Lolita. And does my dancing please Don Miguel ? 
 Don Mig. Better than courtly lady, beauty fair. 
 Lolita. I'm gladdened if so great a lord is pleased. 
 Don Mig. Now sing with thy wild sweet voice, and 
 
 thy race 
 
 Will glory in thy loveliness, while I 
 Do drink thy rapturous beauty dark and rare. 
 
 Lolita. I dance for thee ; I sing to thee, for love ! 
 ( Sings. 
 
 SONG. 
 A courtier knight, a Spanish lord, , 
 
 Doth love Moreno fair, 
 And on the old guitarra, love,
 
 100 THE LADY OF SANTA ROSA 
 
 We '11 sing her beauty rare. 
 
 CHORUS. 
 Oh sing tra la, 
 
 Oh sing tra lee, 
 On old guitar, 
 On old guitar, 
 
 In love's med lee. 
 Moreno is a dancing girl, 
 
 The rarest of her kind, 
 She floats with airy pirouette, 
 With magic of the wind. 
 
 CHO. 
 Her eyes are black, her skin is dark, 
 
 Her soul is in her eyes, 
 Her beauty is the beauty, love, ^ 
 Of starry midnight skies. 
 
 CHO. 
 Don Mig. Thy song is beautiful as thine own self. 
 
 (Ai.BERTi, her gypsy lover, suddenly enters. 
 Albcrti. What hound is this? {Yanking MORENO to 
 her feet. 
 
 Moreno, art thou mad ? 
 
 Sir villain, draw thy sword, and skill shall tell ! 
 Thy courtier blood is blue, but mine is red- 
 So, villain, draw ! 
 
 Lolita. Alberti, back ! He 's master. 
 
 Alberti. Black wench, aside, or my Gitano blood 
 Shall vent its ire on thee ! 
 
 Don Mig. Go pluck his sleeve, 
 
 And lead him from this amphitheatre ; 
 I 'd sob to shed his blood. Poor man, his love . 
 
 Hath made him mad. And such a man as he;
 
 TIIK LADY OF SANTA ROSA 101 
 
 So tall, so dark, with raven, curly locks, 
 And whiskers like a pirate's. Lola, go ! 
 His love is gold to mine of silver. Lead 
 The way, and never shall a lord dare sing 
 Another song of love on Spain's guitar 
 To airy dancing maid, Moreno Lola. 
 
 Alberti. But, let me at the scoundrel, maid Gitano. 
 
 Lolita. Alberti, have no word with him ; he 's kind 
 To dancing girls like me. I 'm sure his soul 
 Is pure. My love should pacify Alberti. 
 
 Alberti. For once it shall ; but ere she lead me hence, 
 Bold knave, a word with thee. Once touch a hair 
 Of my Moreno's head, and young Granada's 
 Blood But, I go. Moreno, lead me out. {Ex. both. 
 
 Don Mig. A booby. Faugh ! I should have run him 
 
 thro' ; 
 
 But, no Poor fool, he loves her with his heart, 
 While I with touch of sensuality ; 
 I 'd kill the dog should he molest me further. 
 But faugh ! I 've bigger fish than such as he. 
 This foreign prince hath something of the rascal ; 
 And yet a kind of fascination. He 
 Doth puzzle me. 'Twere luck, since but for this, 
 Our quarrel had assumed a deadly ending. 
 {He turns to pass out, when he is met by INEZ, who is in 
 half mask. 
 
 Inez. Don Miguel ? 
 
 Don Mig. Yes, Inez, and thy lover. 
 
 But why dost come? The hour is late, and scoundrels 
 Begin their wicked tramps, with darkness as 
 Disguise. A maid so delicate as thou 
 Should hie her home to mother's covering wing. 

 
 102 THE LADY OF SANTA KOSA 
 
 But, look ! Thou art disguised ! Why domino 
 On face so fair? 'Tis love and jealousy 
 Upon a rampage. Pray, wilt tell thy lord ? 
 
 Inez. Dost know a coarse Gitano dancing girl ? 
 
 Don Mig. Ha, ha ! and so god Cupid leads my lassie? 
 Too good, too good ! Pray, Inez, let me dare 
 Remove thy domino ; for thou art passing 
 Fair ; lily beauty from some tropic clime ; 
 
 A house-plant watered by the tears of lovers. (Removes mask . 
 Thou art too fair ; and every noble eye 
 Will bear me out in't. So, a dancing gypsy 
 Hath robbed my lady of her quiet. Ha, 
 Love oft hath made a crown of thorns. But, Inez, 
 Go rest in peace ; I'm true as Polar star ; 
 My love is clear and pure as Polar night ; 
 The glittering Polar stars his anadem. 
 
 Inez. I will confess my love for thee hath led 
 Me out, and in such hour that I do tremble. 
 
 Don Mig. But be no more aroused ; for such a love 
 As mine can guard thee all thy livelong days, 
 And make thy life a running ditty. Come, 
 Let's forth. But, stay; a Peter for thy Paul. 
 Didst notice in thy nightly rambles, Prince 
 Henrique, dressed in faultless foreign garb, 
 With such emboldened air and iced exterior, 
 That frigid smiles did play across his features? 
 
 Inez. I met a courtly man as tall as thou, 
 With such degree of court politeness that 
 
 Don Mig. That what? 
 
 Inez. He turned aside and circled 
 
 round 
 Me, lifting such a hat of loveliness,
 
 THE LApY OF SANTA ROSA 103 
 
 I could but change my courtly etiquette 
 With him. 
 
 Don Mig. Then will we toss a penny, love ; 
 For, 'tween us is a bow, a Spanish song. 
 Fair Inez, are we not at quits? 'Tis so; 
 Lolita danced and sang for me ; the prince, 
 Ha, doffed his hat and circled round thee so ! (Imitating. 
 
 Inez. Restore my mask, and I will hie me hence 
 And nevermore go watching. Wilt forgive me? 
 
 Don Mig. And with a kiss, if stage propriety 
 Forbade it not. But thought is deed for such. 
 When marriage crowns us, and old Hymen lights 
 Us to our bridal couch, then shall our kisses 
 Re-echo to the night, and gossips hear 
 No echoings. But, let me be thy knight; 
 For clouds have curled across the sky, and stars 
 Twinkle behind impenetrable darkness, 
 The sad round moon illuming but in vain. 
 
 Inez. If other business call thee, night for me 
 Hath not a frighting harm. My love is brave. 
 
 Don Mig. (Aside.} 'Twill be a hero if in battle for 
 Granada's heart ! 
 
 Inez. Wast speaking, Miguel ? 
 
 Don Mig. One only thought, but thou wert in it, Inez. 
 But, come. I'll be thy starless night escort; 
 And dancing girl or prince durst cross our path, 
 I'll have the right of deadly arbitration ! 
 
 Enter MIDDLE. 
 What knave of trumps is this? Our worthy clown. 
 
 Middle. They call me Middle. Why? The fool is in 
 The middle. But, now begging clownly pardons, 
 I just rubbed up against a courtly fool,
 
 104 THE LAUY OF SANTA ROSA 
 
 If fool can see a fool, Don Miguel. 
 
 D >n Mig. What! cursed Henrique? Fool! Thy 
 
 hand, fair Inez ; 
 
 Since I would lead thee from such paltry prince. 
 Old trouble goes a-brewing night and day, 
 And rises from the clown to lord or prince. {Leads her out. 
 
 Middle. A fool by nature I, but he through love. 
 I sleep and dream because I know no better ; 
 They lie awake and dream because of love. 
 That I could be as wise as he for seconds, 
 To know just how a self-made fool doth feel. 
 Ah ! enters love's true pattern of a man, 
 And something near as pretty as a girl ; 
 And yet a man, a human, human man, 
 I'll get behind the wing, and fool-like listen 
 To life's dear love-made fool. One fool 't to time ; 
 Enter, my wise apportioned counterpart. {Hides behind the 
 wing. Enter PRINCE HENRIQUE. 
 
 Henrique. Was never such a lovely maid in all 
 The realm of Spain. She raised her domino; 
 But haply that I were some other lord ; 
 Perchance, this proud Granada. Ha, ha, ha ! 
 A triple villain truly. Three strange loves ; 
 One, Lola, a Gitano dancing girl, 
 With such a midnight beauty, e'en old courtiers 
 Find their dull hearts a-pounding 'gainst their sides. 
 And Inez. For some old hidalgo gossips 
 Did prate the secrets of the town because, 
 Forsooth ! I am a master of the sword, 
 And hied me from a foreign land with suite 
 Of lovely gentlemen that beggar art. 
 What foolish men we women are. A hoax ?
 
 TTIR LADY OF SANTA ROSA 105 
 
 I mean we men turned womanish by women. 
 Ha, ha, there's Miguel ; a Spanish hero, 
 As brave as Caesar ; master of the sword ; 
 A glorious good companion ; wit and wine 
 His mottoes; ever ready at a'need ; 
 Sharing his last pistole ; and yet I dub him 
 A pickaninny dressed to please the fair. 
 Out on a pickpurse lord like him. I'm tired 
 Seeing brave men still tied to ladies' skirts. 
 Ah ! here's a maudlin fool; old nature did it. 
 
 Enter MIDDLED grinning. 
 Well, well, thou leering ninny, why hast come?. 
 
 Middle. Because my legs would argue 'gainst my mind. 
 
 Henrique. Legs? Middle, poor are legs in argument. 
 
 MiihUe. A clownly pardon. But thou'lt hear a clown ? 
 
 Henrique. A fool or clown, 'tis all the same to princes. 
 
 Middle. I stole a capon from the roosting. 
 
 Henrique. Well. 
 
 Middle. My legs were wiser than a lord; they ran. 
 
 Henrique. And that was all thy lawyer's argument ? 
 
 Middle. Nay; for I fed my legs down thro' my mouth. 
 
 Henrique. Devoured the chicken ? 
 
 Middle. Yea ; and crowed 
 
 for more. 
 
 Henrique. How so ? 
 
 Middle. The chicken was a rooster, sir. 
 
 Henrique. Thou art a fool indeed, a very fool. 
 
 Mid-die. But had Henrique my two legs, 'twere well. 
 
 Henrique. Pray tell me ere thy blood's upon my sword ! 
 
 Middle. He would have run away from maid Dolores. 
 
 Henrique. But I do know her not. ExpPain, thou fool ! 
 
 Middle. All men do bow to Queen Dolores, sir.
 
 106 THE LADY OF SANTA ROSA 
 
 Henrique. And so must I needs take to paltry legs? 
 
 Middle. Yea; trust thy legs in love for all thy heart; 
 For legs in love have more of earthly wisdom. 
 
 Henrique. Don Miguel hath several loves, dear clown. 
 
 Middle. Then several times as big a fool as thou. 
 
 Henrique. And both his legs have failed to extricate 
 
 him ? 
 
 But hence! I'm fooling with my heart's true love ; 
 And as the saying is: One fool't to time. 
 
 Middle. I go ; but when did love e'er get along 
 Without his fool? 
 
 Enter INEZ. 
 
 Inez. Dear Middle, who is this? 
 
 Middle. A man, if still he be a prince, Miss Inez. 
 
 Henrique. A thousand princely pardons, senorita. 
 
 Inez. Senor, I am intrusive ; I'll withdraw. 
 
 Henrique. Thou hast such art and life's divinity, 
 No foreign lord could fail to bow to thee. 
 Enter DOLORES. 
 
 Dolores. And here are maidens fair and very fine ; 
 But handsome gentlemen call me divine ! 
 
 Henrique. O what a beauty of a woman, Inez. 
 
 Inez. Indeed, as lovely as a bridal rose. 
 
 Henrique. A Spanish lass {Enter MIGUEL suddenly, 
 drawing his sivord. 
 
 Don Mig. Ho ! draw, thou paltry villain, 
 
 And Inez and Dolores be the judges ! 
 
 Middle. I'll get my bandage ; soon two bloods will flow. 
 
 Inez. Don Miguel, put up thy coward sword. 
 
 Henrique". Or mine shall spill thy treacherous blood, 
 
 bold prince ! 
 ( They fence. As MIGUEL_/#//.? from a thrust, into the arms
 
 THE LADY OF SANTA ROSA 107 
 
 of DOLORES, MORENO rushes between them, 'wounded 
 by MIGUEL'S JJying aiuord, but is caught in the arms 
 of ALBERTI, \^*EZ fainting and falling into the arms 
 of HENRIOJJE, the clown staring in a corner. 
 
 CURTAIN FALLS.
 
 MY AIDENN
 
 MY AIDENN. 
 
 Oh have you seen my castle ? 
 
 Ah me ! down by the sea ; 
 My castle, tasseled castle, 
 
 And built so wondrously, 
 Built on a plan of beauty 
 
 Surpassing any dream, 
 My tessellated castle 
 
 With silver joist and beam? 
 
 A window facing heaven 
 
 Where brightest angels be, 
 My fairy, airy castle 
 
 Fronting the restless sea, 
 Aye restless when I'm sleeping, 
 
 Sleeping my sleep of love, 
 With sands and waters round me, 
 
 And eve's one star above. 
 
 For architect a Cupid 
 
 With newly-fledged wing, 
 So beauty, beauty, beauty, 
 
 And I the crowned king ! 
 A king in such a kingdom, 
 
 I'm happy at the thought, 
 I'm happy in this kingdom, 
 
 There is no happier spot !
 
 112 MY AIDENN 
 
 I have a priceless Raphael, 
 
 Raphael and Keats and Keats, 
 I have all kinds of music, 
 
 A nook with rustic seats, 
 Cupids in silver fountains, 
 
 And o'er my fabric whole, 
 And o'er my glorious fabric 
 
 The beauty of the soul. 
 
 The sea-mew moaneth, crieth, 
 
 ^ 
 
 Crieth for joy all day, 
 In undertone the breakers 
 
 Moan out a roundelay, 
 Moan out, and yet a ditty 
 
 As soft as sigh or kiss, 
 It seems to me, it seemeth 
 
 Here in this vale of bliss. 
 
 New veiny shells and pebbles 
 
 Washed by a thousand waves, 
 A thousand waves in trebles, 
 
 In little bars and staves, 
 Roll at my feet, and to them 
 
 I say: "O ocean shell 
 And pebble, what's your mission, 
 
 A kiss or faretheewell ?" 
 
 I fondle ; unreplying, 
 
 They shine and sparkle so, 
 Sparkle and shine so wondrous, 
 
 Oh be it yea or no ? 
 Yea, shall I fondle, linger? 
 
 Since in my dreams with thee, 
 I hear a far off music 
 
 Intoned bv the sea.
 
 MY AIDENX 113 
 
 Is't love ? I'm not so foolish ; 
 
 My castle ! Ah, too true, 
 No maiden fair or elfish 
 
 Shall dare dispute with you ; 
 For, hear me, stone and mortar, 
 
 Mortar and groined stone, 
 My castle's for a hermit, 
 
 I'd live here all alone. 
 
 A skiff, a boat so dainty 
 
 'Twould tip with Cupid in, 
 A lullaby is playing : 
 
 "We have no kith and kin !" 
 And so I'm free as breakers, 
 
 Breakers with crests of foam, 
 That sparkle, flash and shimmer 
 
 Around my castle home. 
 
 Around my castle lordly, 
 
 And O the peace to me ! 
 And O the music in me ! 
 
 The music of the sea ; 
 So glorious, olden, golden, 
 
 My castle wondrous fair, 
 So olden, golden, glorious, 
 
 Divinity is there ! 
 
 % 
 Architrave and rafter, 
 
 Rafter and lintel too, 
 The corbel old, fantastic, 
 
 No mortal more could do ; 
 Demoniac spirits come not, 
 
 Demoniac elfs are far, 
 The beauty that is o'er me 
 
 Is made of moon and star.
 
 114 MY AIDKNN 
 
 I dine with rosy nectar 
 
 Winking with bubbly eyes. 
 Ah me ! I have ambrosia. 
 
 And wines from sunny skies ; 
 I brim my beakers, beakers. 
 
 My beakers lined with gold, 
 The wine I quaffs delicious, 
 
 Delicious in cobwebs old. 
 
 I fondle Poe in visions. 
 
 In visions with him lie, 
 Our only golden poet ! 
 
 Our only ? Tell me why ? 
 Verlaine in rhythmic numbers. 
 
 With haunting melodies. 
 Weird melodies fantastic,. 
 
 Sad, sombre, elfish glees. 
 
 With rapturous, beauteous music, 
 Yea, beauteous, too, as death. 
 
 When new r love's loveliest maiden- 
 Hush ! giveth up her breath ! 
 
 With cadence dripping glorious 
 The red, red wines of thought, 
 
 With heaven and hell contending 
 In beauties he has wrought. 
 
 And so the winged sunshine 
 
 Chases the shadows grim, . 
 Chases from nook and corner, 
 
 Till wraiths, ah, faint and slim, 
 As apparitions, haunt me, 
 
 Spirits of those I knew ; 
 But, O delicious, luscious, 
 
 To be with such as you !
 
 MY AIPENK 115 
 
 Against my window, music. 
 
 Fantastic, half divine, 
 Divine and heavenly wondrous, 
 . Sparkling like beaded wine, 
 White wine that makes capricious 
 
 Dream-fancies unto me, 
 Until I laugh ecstatic, 
 
 Demoniac in my glee. 
 
 Taine, Lamb, Montaigne and Zangwill, 
 
 Yea, gloi'ious are to me, 
 The friends I love, the friendships 
 
 Best for their rarity ! 
 As scarce as Brownings, Shelleys, 
 
 A Coleridge, yea, a Poe ; 
 But well-a-way, I'm happy, 
 
 The sea-wave boometh low. 
 
 The sea-wave is my organ, 
 
 My emerald minstrelsy, 
 In undertone majestic, 
 
 In horrid revelry ; 
 In cadent, rhythmic numbers. 
 
 Diversified for me, 
 Come o'er me, to me, to me, 
 
 These ballads of the sea. 
 
 So, here I'd live forever. 
 
 Forever, yea and aye, 
 With nothing diabolic, 
 
 Nothing to slay or flay ; 
 Great ships with sails outbcllied, 
 
 White glistening on the wave, 
 White glistening like a phantom, 
 
 Sail on with runic stave.
 
 116 MY AIDENN 
 
 And I am left forever 
 
 In castle by the sea, 
 With organ tones majestic, 
 
 Buried in majesty, 
 Buried in hoary glories, 
 
 Glories of wind and wave. 
 And should I die angelic, 
 
 Let ocean be my grave !
 
 SONG OF THE SEA SHELL
 
 SONG OF THE SEA SHELL 
 
 Through diamond sands I wander 
 
 In olden glories lost, 
 In old fantastic beauties, 
 
 Holding a shell embossed 
 With many a wavy nodule, 
 
 A message-shell to me, 
 A message from the ages, 
 
 And tell-tales of the sea. 
 
 I sit me wayward, curious, 
 
 Curious in phantasy, 
 O'erfilled with revelations, 
 
 And love-songs of the sea, 
 And love-songs, ditties olden. 
 
 Olden like corked wine, 
 The wine of tipsy Bacchus, 
 
 Reveling with maids divine. 
 
 And as I sit, my sea-shell 
 
 Telleth a tale to me, 
 A song, a song, a love-song, 
 
 The mystery of the sea ; 
 A song so weird, so elfish, 
 
 Elfish and weird and fine, 
 I clasp it for its glory, 
 
 Its tell-tales of the brine.
 
 120 SONG OF THE SKA SHELL 
 
 I kiss it, who may know it? 
 
 Perchance a mermaid queen. 
 With rapturous kiss ecstatic. 
 
 Kissed it in ocean's green ; 
 Yea, kissed it with a passion, 
 
 A passion mermaids know, 
 Down, down in ocean kingdoms, 
 
 Where moon-tides ebb and flow. 
 
 Where mermen, mermaids wander 
 
 In ocean jubilee, 
 Shells, carcanet, fantastic, 
 
 And rare festivity ; 
 Where grottoed reefs of coral. 
 
 Corals by insects built. 
 Sparkle and shimmer, sparkle 
 
 Like diamonds on a hilt. 
 
 So, tell me, ocean, ocean, 
 
 So. tell me, empty shell, 
 What secret hast thou, hast thou? 
 
 What secret hast to tell ? 
 I hold you, and I hear you. 
 
 Singing a song, a song, 
 Who made your ocean music 
 
 That singeth all day long? 
 
 I found you on the seashore 
 
 Buried in sifting sand, 
 Oh did you hie from India ? 
 
 Or is't your native strand ? 
 A weird hallucination, 
 
 Fantastic as a dream, 
 Huunteth my soul, O Sea-shell ! 
 
 With evanescent gleam.
 
 S0\(4 0|.' TIIK .-KA SHEI.l, 
 
 Did ocean queen e'er string you, 
 
 And play old roundelays? 
 Rondels of cavallieros, 
 
 In olden, golden days? 
 What pearls have heard your music 
 
 Your song is never old, 
 A thousand years 'twill murmur 
 
 To ages yet untold. 
 
 And yet I cannot solve you, 
 
 Your song is hid from me. 
 Within your minstrel bosom 
 
 Is hid your melody ; 
 Your song is never ending, 
 
 What other age shall hear? 
 O will you e'er be voiceless', 
 
 And silent to the ear?
 
 HELL AND HEAVEN
 
 HELL AND HEAVEN 
 
 They drag me helhvard, mother, 
 
 They drag me hellward aye, 
 They drag me helhvard, helhvard, 
 
 They drag me though I pray ; 
 I see them idiotic, 
 
 O how their red eyes gleam ! 
 Their power, oh 'tis despotic, 
 
 They seize me in my dream ! 
 
 I try to shape and fashion 
 
 A manner of escape, 
 But devils diabolic, 
 
 They mime and stare and gape. 
 Till beads of perspiration 
 
 Rush startled to mv face, 
 O horrid, weird damnation 
 
 Translate me from this place. 
 
 But, nay, the crowned goblet 
 
 Is pressed to my lip, . 
 'Taste, mortal, weary mortal. 
 
 Yea, take a human sip !" 
 But, nay, I dash it from me, 
 
 I see the shattered glass ; 
 "Get hence, uncertain shadows, 
 
 I go to holv mass !"
 
 HKU. AM) IIKAVKX 
 
 But, Mother Mary, mother, 
 
 Good angels kiss my brow, 
 Kiss me, angelic, rapturous, 
 
 And 'tice me heavenward now ; 
 Their white wings fan my curtains. 
 
 An odor comes to me, 
 As from a swinging ctMiser 
 
 Hung in eternity ! 
 
 "O how the music playeth ! 
 
 They bear me to the sky, 
 Oh let me dream in odors, 
 
 In dreamland let me lie." 
 "But, nay, you conquered, mortal, 
 
 The miming devils lost ; 
 Your dream will end in heaven, 
 
 You won at any cost !" 
 
 So, hell and heaven's contention, 
 
 Mangled, but left me free, 
 As winged bird in ether, 
 
 As sea-mew o'er the sea ; 
 As bee on swinging floweret, 
 
 A pure, a perfect whole, 
 And 'spite of hell, demonian, 
 
 Heaven won a perfect soul !
 
 AMABEL
 
 . AMABEL 
 
 Her eyes were as the star-shine. 
 
 When skies are blue, so blue, 
 Amabilis, my love-queen, 
 
 O for a world like you ! 
 
 I love you, love you, love you, 
 
 Amabilis, my Bel, 
 Down deeply in my bosom. 
 
 Deeper adown than hell ! 
 
 All night-time in my spirit, 
 
 When clouds go hide and seek. 
 
 With her I go ; .seraphic, 
 She loves me if she speak ; 
 
 But when the veils of morning 
 
 By angels are withdrawn, 
 By angels, holy angels, 
 
 My idol maid is gone ! 
 
 Last e'en I saw an angel, 
 
 But now I go to her ; 
 I start and stare theatric ! 
 
 Must love drink myrrh, love's myrrh
 
 AMABEL 
 
 Love's aberration, ' ation, . 
 
 Is in her lovely eye ; 
 My God, my God, my Jesus, 
 
 Drop mercy from the sky ! 
 
 t; Mv Amabel, a demon, 
 
 A demon wicked, fell, 
 Has ta'en your reason, reason, 
 
 My spotless Amabel ! 
 
 il Oh horrid aberration ! 
 
 So wicked, cruel, fell, 
 You've ta'en her perfect reason, 
 
 Amabilis. my Bel !" 
 
 Oh eyes ! oh where your meaning;: 
 Where love in loveliness? 
 
 Now waits hallucination 
 To kill Amabilis; 
 
 To kill where love made beauty, 
 A beauty love could see ; 
 
 But, ah ! this dissolution, 
 The living death to me ! 
 
 I try to win love-glances, 
 
 The poem of her face, 
 The poem only love's eyes 
 
 In love can fondly trace : 
 
 Ah me ! I'm but a stranger, 
 What made her love me so, 
 
 And then with toppling reason. 
 Turn eves that do not know?
 
 AMABEL 
 
 I take her hand ; ecstatic, 
 
 I fondle and caress, 
 I touch her lips with kisses, 
 
 She stares. O my distress ! 
 
 I show the old love fondness ; 
 
 I cry : "My Amabel !" 
 Her love has said : " 'Tis over ; 
 
 It is our last farewell !" 
 
 Then reason made her beauty ? 
 
 As marble is she fair ! 
 A Greek Slave in her beauty. 
 
 But life is wanting there ! 
 
 Her eye is unresponsive, 
 
 Her cheek ? the rose is gone ; 
 
 Oh great world, you are empty, 
 Though you may jangle on ! 
 
 Come back in marble whiteness, 
 
 O soul of Amabel, 
 Come back to love's dear palace, 
 
 Come back, forever dwell 
 
 In love's dear tabanacle, 
 
 In love's cathedral home ; 
 For where a lovelier prison r 
 
 Come back, white soul ! don't roam. 
 
 But sackcloth, dust and ashes, 
 Her eye will shine no more; 
 
 Her eye, her face are vacant. 
 Vacant forevermore ;
 
 130 AMAI'.KI. 
 
 So, what is love ? Who knoweth 
 She loved, but now loves not ' 
 
 I am a perfect stranger, 
 My love she has forgot ! 
 
 So, to my love's dominion 
 Came imps of horrid dread. 
 
 Came to my love's dominion, 
 Till Amabel lies dead ! 
 
 Yea, dead to love and loving. 
 
 And dead to even me ; 
 So, faretheewell, my darling, 
 
 Love's last farewell to thee ! 
 
 FINIS.
 
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