BERKELEY X 
 
 LIBRARY 
 
 JNIVERSfTY OF 
 CALIFORNIA 
 
 ■J 
 
MJt M y s- ^"'^ "*' y 
 
 '*?&$ 
 
 *5 
 
POEMS 
 
POEMS 
 
 BV 
 
 C. J. W. FARWELL 
 
 LONDON 
 ELKIN MATHEWS, VIGO STREET 
 
 I90I 
 
LOAN STACK 
 
TO 
 
 LESLIE 
 
Digitized by the Internet Archive 
 
 in 2008 with funding from 
 
 Microsoft Corporation 
 
 http://www.archive.org/details/farwellpoemsOOfarwrich 
 
CONTENTS 
 
 FAGI 
 
 A Face ! 
 
 A Turn of the Wheel 2 
 
 London - 3 
 
 To My Love 6 
 
 The Voice of Spring 8 
 
 Doubt .... • • • • SI 
 
 A Love-Song - 15 
 
 "Labuntur Anni " 17 
 
 "Some day when we are old" • • - - 19 
 
 Carpe Diem ji 
 
 The Wind of Autumn 23 
 
 A Woman's Word 27 
 
 "To Sea" 30 
 
 M So every sweet with sowre is tempered still " • 3a 
 
 Flower Fancies 33 
 
 Realization 35 
 
 A Sonnet 36 
 
 •' Come, Sweet, and tell me " 37 
 
 11 Hark to the roar and the surge of the sea " - 39 
 
 Rose Leaves 41 
 
 Life's Solitude 43 
 
 A Blackbird Singing in Edinburgh in February . 45 
 
Vlll 
 
 TAG* 
 
 A Message ........ 47 
 
 A New Year Wish ••.#..-» 49 
 
 A Ballad - - * 50 
 
 Spring 53 
 
 Summer - 56. 
 
 Yesterday 61 
 
 To-morrow ... - . . . . 62 
 
 The Song of the Sea 64 
 
 Despair 66 
 
 Queen of the Flowers 67 
 
 " Tropfen aus der Ewigkeit " - 70 
 
 Autumn - - 71 
 
 A Whisper - 73 
 
 Night - 75 
 
 "Come back, my love" 77 
 
 An Invocation to Spring * 79 
 
 Good Bye 83 
 
 "Ave atque vale" - 85 
 
A FACE 
 
 Life took a blank and wrote a history there : 
 Joys, sorrows, loves and hopes had each their 
 
 share : 
 Each mood left lines therein its power to show, 
 Some deep, some small, some forming fast, some 
 
 slow. 
 Life worked for years and left a perfect whole, 
 A sad man's face in which there shone a soul. 
 
A TURN OF THE WHEEL 
 
 A turn of the wheel, and youth is here ; 
 All life is gaiety year by year ; 
 Young hearts beat gladly, life's sorrow scorning, 
 A turn of the wheel ; and so Good-morning. 
 
 A turn of the wheel, and the best is past ; 
 The shadows of life are deeper cast ; 
 Bloo^ runs slower, and life's less gay ; 
 A turn of the wheel ^ an4 so Good-day. 
 
 A turn of the wheel, and life is fled j 
 Youth's hopes and longings are lying dead ; 
 The sun of life has lost his might ; 
 A turn of the wheel ; and so Good-night, 
 
LONDON 
 
 London, London, 
 
 Splendid, squalid ; gay, abhorrent, 
 
 Rushing like a headlong torrent, 
 
 Living heart and living wonder, 
 
 Clash of traffic loud as thunder; 
 
 All your joy and all your sorrow 
 
 Mingled, clear for men to see, 
 
 From them each, you, London, borrow 
 
 Your strange charm and mystery. 
 
 London, London, 
 
 Choked with fog or gay with pleasure ; 
 
 Still in early morning's leisure, 
 
 Fierce and hot with night's endeavour 
 
 For the joy that lingers ever 
 
 B— % 
 
4 
 Round your impassive streets and squares; 
 Voice of pleasure and of pain, 
 Voice so full of hopes and fears, 
 Thick with loss and thick with gain. 
 
 London, London, 
 
 'Cross your streets a merry laughter 
 Rippling low ; a moment after 
 Sobs that break the heart and rend it 
 With life's grief and none to mend it ; 
 Each are blended in the throbbing 
 Of your heart from far and near, 
 Laughter mingled with the sobbing, 
 Joy and sorrow, smile and tear. 
 
 London, London, 
 Home of vice and home of virtue, 
 If my feeble singing were to 
 Whisper half your voice can tell, 
 Voice of Heaven and voice of Hell, 
 
5 
 I should sing and men would listen, 
 While the eyes of most would glisten, 
 And the hearts of all would beat, 
 To the clash of hurrying feet. 
 
TO MY LOVE 
 
 Oh ! like a rose in May is she, 
 And bright as sunlight on the sea, 
 That plays and sparkles smilingly, 
 
 Where wave and sunbeam meet.. 
 
 And like a nightingale her voice, 
 That wakes the heart and bids rejoice, 
 And gives a man no other choice, 
 
 Rut worship at her feet* 
 
 And like the young Spring's tender grace 
 Glows the fair beauty of her face, 
 Where changing moods each other chase 
 As shadows over wheat. 
 
7 
 And like a rose in May is she ; 
 So fond, so fair, so gladly free ; 
 And oh ! my heart has gone from me, 
 And lies before her feet. 
 
THE VOICE OF SPRING 
 
 There's a whisper in the wood, 
 
 Where the leafless branches stood, 
 And the trees stretched bare to the sky ; 
 
 For the buds are peeping forth, 
 
 Now the winter's fled to north, 
 At the fear of the Spring's glowing eye. 
 
 Then it's hey ! for the bud and the leaf again ! 
 
 It's hey ! for the dancing sun ! 
 For the Spring kills the Winter's grief again, 
 
 Now his dreary day is done. 
 
 There's a whisper in the hill, 
 Where the earth was frozen still, 
 And the grass was withered and dead j 
 
9 
 For the timid green doth show, 
 As the wind steals to and fro, 
 And dries the tears that Nature shed. 
 
 Then it's hey! for the green and the grass 
 again ! 
 
 It's hey ! for the sparkling dew ! 
 For the angels from Heaven now pass again : 
 
 And the world is changed and new. 
 
 There's a whisper on the breeze, 
 
 Which awakes the budding trees, 
 Where the birds had all hushed their notej 
 
 They are searching far and wide, 
 
 For a nook their nest to hide, 
 And love is tuning every throat. 
 
 Then it's hey! for the nest and the young 
 again ! 
 
 It's hey ! for the glittering morn ! 
 For that glorious song shall be sung again, 
 
 Which was sung when they were born. 
 
10 
 
 There's a whisper in the town, 
 
 Where the streets are dry and brown, 
 And the dust is circling above : 
 
 Leave your work and come away, 
 
 Whilst all Nature is at play, 
 Come and seek the maid whom you love. 
 
 Then it's hey ! for young blood and for love 
 again ! 
 It's hey ! for a maiden pure ! 
 For the Spring has come down from above 
 again ! 
 To tell that God's love is sure. 
 
II 
 
 DOUBT 
 
 Spirit, who wanderest through the hearts of men, 
 Leaving thy trace with fingers steeped in fire, 
 Branding the hearts of each with vain desire, 
 To probe the why, the wherefore and the when : 
 Spirit, whence comest thou ? 
 Art thou of heaven or hell, 
 With restless zeal imprinted on thy brow, 
 Great with thy discontent of here and now, 
 Sick with thine ignorance ? oh ! Spirit, tell, 
 Whence dost thou come ? 
 
 Spirit, what Master Will has given thee power 
 To stir our hearts, to wake a restless hope- 
 To strain our eyes to read the horoscope 
 Of things that lie outside the present hour? 
 
12 
 
 Spirit, why dost thou tease 
 
 The hearts of puny men with vague intent 
 
 To put away their pleasant, thoughtless ease, 
 
 The idle joy thou teachest to displease, 
 
 And wander forth to regions where the scent 
 
 Of musty ages, sick with long decay, 
 
 Is mingled with a sense of future thought, 
 
 Amidst whose stifling odour they are brought 
 
 To know the worth of this their worthless day : 
 
 Why dost thou lead ? 
 
 Spirit, who trainest eye of man to read 
 Thoughts that are hard for his poor mortal brain ; 
 Spirit, who guidest this weak hand in vain, 
 To write the thoughts that thy swift fancies 
 
 breed : 
 Spirit, why dost thou draw 
 Our hearts away from what we used to know, 
 And mock our vain attempts to make a law, 
 A rule by which our lives shall have no flaw ; 
 A law so hopeless as thy teachings show : 
 
i3 
 
 So pitiful, and with its hope so weak, 
 That in despair our hearts rise up and speak, 
 And cry aloud : cc Why dost thou take away 
 The rules, which once we could obey, 
 And taking them, put nothing in their place, 
 Spirit of evil grace?" 
 
 And yet, maybe, the spirit works for good, 
 Teaching our hearts to rise to higher things, 
 Training our thoughts to soar as if on wings, 
 Our souls to feed upon no earthly food ; 
 That in futurity, 
 We may have strength enough through failures 
 
 sore, 
 To cross that awful gulf, the rolling sea, 
 Betwixt ourselves and that which wc might be, 
 And reach at length the shore, 
 Towards which the best in man must 
 
 strain : 
 Perchance thou dost not vex in vain ; 
 Thou art, maybe, refining us to grow 
 
More strong to bear the knowledge we must 
 
 know; 
 Some day far off, to see the good and ill, 
 And know them both for what they are ; 
 And knowing both to thrust the ill afar ; 
 Then, when we take the good of our own will. 
 Spirit, thou wilt be still. 
 
« 
 
 A LOVE SONG 
 
 I heard Nature sing a song of my love, 
 
 Whispering half aloud, 
 It echoed from earth and the sky above, 
 
 From the hill and the floating cloud ; 
 
 The breeze, as it stole through the slumbering 
 trees, 
 
 Murmured the sweet refrain, 
 And the leaves rustled back in their sun-born ease, 
 
 The chorus of love again : 
 
 Then a sunflower caught it and whispered the 
 word 
 
 To a rose-bud bending near, 
 Who sang it aloud to a passing bird, 
 
 As he paused in his flight to he. 
 
i6 
 
 The bird flew off to a neighbouring tree, 
 And sang to his mate in her nest, 
 
 While the rose-bud bent to a golden bee 
 Who hung on her ruddy breast : 
 
 Though each thing sang of his own own love, 
 And the joy of the life he knew, 
 
 The melody sang, from beneath and above, 
 To my heart, my sweet, of you. 
 
l 7 
 
 "LABUNTUR ANNI" 
 
 Old yesterday, in passing, leaves his trace 
 
 Of what he felt ; and then he moves along, 
 And sees to-morrow standing in his place 
 
 A moment, ere he, too, must join the th 
 Of glad to-morrows turned to yesterci 
 
 Each lost within the grasp of "what has been," 
 Each cherishing their memories always, 
 
 Each holding fast some long-forgotten scene . 
 
 And youth in watching takes life as a jest, 
 
 Unheeding that Old Time is fleeting fa 
 Each morrow in his eyes appears the best, 
 
 With betcer gifts to offer than the 1 
 But whiUt he laughs, old age creeps on apace; 
 
 And lo ! a change, a loss, a vacaiu 
 And all his morrows fade to yesterdays, 
 
 And what has been's more glad than what 
 will be. 
 
i8 
 
 And last, there is no morrow : for to-day, 
 
 Contemptuous, stern, forbidding, chokes his 
 breath, 
 
 And, all unheeding, Time upon his way- 
 Has sent another to the lap of death ; 
 
 And new to-morrows bloom for other eyes, 
 As fresh as those before, and sweet with pride, 
 
 And yesterdays still keep their memories, 
 
 And know the men who loved them ere they 
 died. 
 
 And through the abyss of years, the mighty line 
 
 Some day will marshall, ere time pass away ; 
 And each will show the memory he keeps fine, 
 
 The memory that marks him as a day ; 
 And men will crouch before them as they stand, 
 
 And tremble at those phantom memories, 
 For each day holds his message in his hand, 
 
 And works revenge before he fades and dies. 
 
*9 
 
 SOME DAY WHEN WE ARE OLD 
 
 Some day when we are old, 
 
 When youth and its gay pleasures fade away, 
 
 When in our veins the sluggish blood runs cold, 
 
 Some day, when we are gray ; 
 
 How shall we think the thoughts we cherish 
 
 now, 
 How shall we dream the dreams our youth has 
 
 known, 
 When age implants his wrinkles on our brow, 
 Does he, too, kill the thoughts we call our own, 
 When we are old? 
 
 Some day when what seems far away and drear 
 
 Is stealing up and looming like a shade, 
 
 When doubts and fears grow stronger year by 
 
 year, 
 Some day, my love, shall wc two be afraid j 
 
20 
 
 When death, whom now we shun and turn 
 
 away, 
 Shall thrust his face between us and command 
 The one to hurry and the one to stay, 
 Dragging apart with firm, remorseless hand; 
 Some day, will Death be grim, and cold, and 
 
 dread, 
 As now he seems while we are young and glad, 
 Or shall we welcome his gray, ancient head, 
 And kiss the face which looks so worn and sad, 
 When we are old ? 
 
 Some day, when we are old, 
 Dear, can it be we shall have grace to know 
 A perfect age which is not dull or cold ; 
 Dear, cari we go the way Death bids us go, 
 And find a place where Love, divinely fair, 
 Will have the power to comfort and to say, 
 Through Death's grim valley and its icy air, 
 Love comes unscathed and lives with us alway, 
 When we are old ? 
 
21 
 
 "CARPE DIEM" 
 
 The world is bright, so bright, my love, 
 
 The birds are madly singing; 
 Forget the gloom of night, my love, 
 
 The gloom it may be bringing. 
 Whatever fate before you stand, 
 
 Reck not of future sadness, 
 But take the moment in your hand 
 
 And laugh it into madness. 
 
 The sky is blue, so blue, my love, 
 
 The roses gaily blowing j 
 Forget the feais you knew, my love: 
 
 The fears you may be knowing. 
 
22 
 
 The present tarries but awhile, 
 Then fades with joys and sorrows, 
 
 So come, give Summer smile for smile, 
 Dream not of sad tomorrows. 
 
 While all is fair, so fair, my love, 
 
 Laugh, jest, let all be merry ; 
 Enough of dull despair, my love, 
 
 When Summer's queen we bury. 
 Now Summer's gay and we are young, 
 
 Alas ! we fast grow older, 
 Come sport, where Summer's warmth is 
 flung: 
 
 Lest Winter find us colder. 
 
*3 
 
 THE WIND OF AUTUMN 
 
 The wind of death is screaming o'er his prey, 
 With grief and pain expectant at his feet; 
 The woods in their bright finery dare not 
 meet 
 
 Death's messenger, rough-tempered, wanton, 
 
 g a y- 
 
 But see ! the frost has touched with fingers gray. 
 Each shuddering tree to mark his roadway 
 plain, 
 
 Where he, exulting on his boisterous way, 
 With every breath will leave the scar of pain- 
 
 What power, as in the fable of old days, 
 
 Has cursed his feet that whereso'cr thev tread, 
 There lies a heap of leaves, all brown and 
 dead, 
 
 Where lately shone the Autumn's golden blaac? 
 
24 
 He careth nothing, trampling all the maze 
 
 Of woodland paths and alleys far and near, 
 Searching each cranny with keen, greedy gaze, 
 
 Lest he should leave one tree that is not sere* 
 
 The Earth's lament could never turn his mind, 
 
 The Great Destroyer of kind Nature's art ; 
 
 So Earth herself is still, for her sad heart 
 Knows the full omen of that mocking wind. 
 Oh ! Cease thy course ! Thou are not so 
 unkind, 
 
 But thou canst leave one tender spray of red, 
 That through the dreary months, we there may 
 find 
 
 One remnant of the glory Autumn shed. 
 
 He will not hearken ; see I that leaf has gone, 
 And flutters in a lost despair to earth, 
 Finding her bier where she had found her 
 birth, 
 
 When first in youthful greenery she shone ; 
 
25 
 
 Then changing as the Summer's day was done, 
 To don the Autumn's glory for her death, 
 
 Vanished that beauty lent her by the sun, 
 Vanished her grace before his angry breath. 
 
 See, where the wind has left that woodland 
 chill, 
 Where, ere his coming, in the sunlight 
 
 gleamed 
 Soft reds and purples mingling, till thev 
 seemed 
 To fade within the haze of yon blue hill. 
 Autumn is dead, and Winter works his will, 
 
 Watching the outcome of his prophet's toil, 
 His messenger, delighting to fulfil 
 
 His Master's wish — to rob, to strip, despoil. 
 
 But on a sudden, lo ! the wind has fled, 
 
 And left his trace on every flower and leaf; 
 The earth, in perfect agony of g 
 
 Can make no sign ; she has no tears to $! 
 
26 
 
 Only she sobs a little o'er her dead, 
 
 Dreading the advent of the Winter King, 
 
 And dreaming of that day when, from her bed, 
 She rose triumphant, kissed to life by Spring. 
 
*7 
 
 A WOMAN'S WORD 
 
 Yes ; all that I have to give, you have, 
 Though that is little enough to give, 
 That I wonder now that you still should crave 
 (As you say you do) to be my slave, 
 Through the years we have yet to live. 
 
 But how will it be in a few years' time, 
 
 Will you love me then as you love me now, 
 When I have outlived my beauty's prime, 
 And love is no longer the god sublime 
 To whom now we have made our vow ? 
 
 Will you love me then, or will you forget 
 The promise of love you swore ? 
 
28 
 
 I shall be old while you are yet 
 In the pride of your manhood's vigour set, 
 Will your love be mine as it was before ? 
 
 Or will you tire of my faded face, 
 
 And my failing strength, and my hair turned 
 
 g ra y> 
 
 And seek out another of fresher grace, 
 Who will take in your heart the self-same place 
 That I hold in your heart to-day ? 
 
 Dear, we are weak, we women folk, 
 
 But oh ! when we love, it is once for all; 
 When I saw you first, when first you spoke, 
 My heart leaped up, as it were, awoke, 
 And no matter what now befall, 
 
 My heart has escaped from me to you, 
 You bound me then by a magic spell; 
 
 But, dear, if you love me, tell me true, 
 
 Tell me now what you mean to do, 
 If I come to you, ill or well. 
 
2 9 
 
 Do 1 hurt you, dear, by what I say ? 
 
 Forgive me, love, if I give you pain, 
 But I fear the unknown distant day, 
 When I am no longer bright and gay ; 
 
 Will my love be all in vain ? 
 
 Dear, I will talk no more of this ; 
 
 That you love me now is enough for me, 
 Enough for the present to taste that bliss, 
 To live in your love, to dream of your kiss, 
 
 And the rest, — I must wait and see. 
 
 It is good to love though I lose you at last, 
 To see the love in your dear eyes shine, 
 And no one will ever have power to cast 
 From my heart the memories of the past j 
 They^t least, will be always mine 
 
3° 
 
 TO SEA 
 
 Steadily blows the wind off shore, 
 
 Steadily blows the wind, oh ! 
 And the gallant ship puts out once more, 
 
 To seek what she can find, oh ! 
 
 Cheerily sounds the Captain's voice, 
 
 Cheerily spurts the steam, oh ! 
 And my bounding heart scarce dare rejoice 
 
 Lest it find it all a dream, oh ! 
 
 Merrily laughs the sparkling sea, 
 
 Merrily dashes the foam, oh ! 
 There's never a heart but would fain be free 
 
 The rollicking waves to roam, oh ! 
 
3* 
 
 Drearily, drearily let it blow, 
 
 Till the sullen sea be gray, oh ! 
 Nor sea nor wind shall daunt us so, 
 
 When our good ship rides on her way, oh ! 
 
 Steadily blows the wind offshore, 
 
 Steadily blows the wind, oh ! 
 And we're off once more, we're off once more, 
 
 To seek what we can find, oh ! 
 
3 2 
 
 "SO EVERY SWEET WITH SOWRE 
 IS TEMPERED STILL » 
 
 The same stem bears the blushing flower, 
 
 That bears the angry thorn. 
 The clouds of storm will bank and lower, 
 
 Where shone the light of morn. 
 And pain may enter in that hour, 
 
 In which our joy was born. 
 
 The sun that throws the brightest ray 
 
 Throws too the darkest shade, 
 The blossom born in warmth of May 
 
 In that same warmth will fade. 
 And grief may travel in the way, 
 
 Which love's soft footsteps made. 
 
33 
 
 FLOWER FANCIES 
 
 The Cowslip 
 
 The yellow cowslip growing 
 
 Too proud to be content 
 To have one blossom blowing 
 
 Upon his stalk, has rent 
 His face to tiny faces, 
 
 His fragrant scent to spread, 
 Each perfect in its graces 
 
 To form one perfect head. 
 
 7he Daffodil 
 
 The daffodil, most stately flower of all 
 That from the lap of maiden Springtime fall. 
 When her fair dream of golden beauty diet, 
 Bequeath! her colour to the evening skic*. 
 
34 
 The Violet 
 
 The violet, the violet, 
 Is nestling in the ground, 
 
 And see ! his tender face is set 
 With sheltering leaves around ; 
 
 His grace to Nature pays his debt 
 Wherever he be found. 
 
 If frighted on his budding night, 
 A change will then appear, 
 
 For he is born a timid white 
 As signal of his fear ; 
 
 But blue or white, he must delight 
 With scent and beauty rare. 
 
35 
 
 REALIZATION 
 
 I courted Sorrow and she spurned my courting, 
 I cried to Sorrow and she would not hear me, 
 While, all day long, young Joy was idly sporting 
 
 Near me. 
 
 I turned to Joy and pressed my arms around her, 
 
 " Come, stay with me," I said, <c we'll jest 
 
 to-morrow," 
 
 But, when the daylight came, I looked and 
 
 found her 
 
 Sorrow, 
 
 i 
 
36 
 
 A SONNET 
 
 How shall I meet death when he comes to me, 
 With tears and sighs, or joyfulness and mirth, 
 Knowing that I have tried the utmost worth 
 
 Of life and found its vast futility ; 
 
 Or shall I fear to go beyond and see 
 
 What lies beyond our death, before our birth, 
 And so return to the soft lap of earth, 
 
 Unknowing, fearful of what yet may be ? 
 
 I cannot tell, and yet I think that death 
 Should not appal ; to gently fall asleep 
 Should cause no frighted quickening of the breath, 
 
 But rather joy to loose the ties which keep 
 Our souls fast bound to all this earth beneath ; 
 Death hushes those that laugh and those that weep. 
 
37 
 
 "COME, SWEET, AND TELL ME" 
 
 Come, Sweet, and tell me all your dreams, 
 
 Sweet, tell me where your fancies stray 
 The long night through, till Sunlight gleams 
 Awake the day. 
 
 What thoughts of yours may crown the night, 
 
 And kiss the darkness as they go ; 
 What dreams in fancy's wandering flight, 
 Sweet, do you know i 
 
 And tell me when pure dreams are brought, 
 
 To pace your brain with silent feet j 
 Among them all is there a thought 
 
 Of Someone, Sweet t 
 
38 
 
 Of one whose senses beat and thrill, 
 
 At touch of little tender hands, 
 Whose only wish is to fulfil, 
 
 Sweet, your commands ? 
 
 But see the hurrying minutes fleet, 
 
 The sun is melting in the sea, 
 And we must part ; but keep, my Sweet, 
 One thought of me. 
 
39 
 
 HARK TO THE ROAR AND TH 
 SURGE OF THE SEA. 
 
 Hark to the roar and the surge of the sea, 
 When the morning of life breaks joyous and free, 
 And all we have hoped or planned to be 
 
 Pulses and throbs in our brain. 
 Ah ! do ye hear the sad sea's sigh, 
 When the sun sinks down in an angry sky, 
 And all we have planned is doomed to die, 
 
 And all we have done is vain ? 
 
 Then the wound of defeat must rankle sore, 
 As we dream of the joy that has gone before, 
 Born of the mastering rush and roar 
 
 Of the sea's omnipotent strife 
 As we watch the sun's last sinking ray, 
 With hearts that are sick we turn away, 
 For death, only death our tired lips p 
 
 If death means an end to life. 
 
40 
 
 And we think of the waves which shouted that 
 
 morn, 
 That the rock from its base should be rent and 
 
 torn, 
 Yet the rock still smiles in its silent scorn, 
 
 And the waves, it is, that are deacL 
 So evil lives though we swore its death^ 
 Like are we to the waves beneath, 
 Weary and worn and spent of brearh, 
 With our grand ideals fled. 
 
 Ages on ages that rock has stood, 
 Smiled at the sea in her every mood, 
 Scorned the sea and her foaming brood, 
 
 Laughed at her challenging call : 
 Yet in the future I seem to see 
 Open expanse where the rock should be, 
 And I hear the wail of eternity, 
 
 As the waves still rise and falL 
 
41 
 
 ROSE-LEAVES 
 
 The roses all are dead : 
 Weep for the rose ! 
 
 Their beauty now has fled, 
 As the wind blows. 
 
 Pick up the withered leaf, 
 
 Once shining fair ; 
 Beauty has turned to grief, 
 
 Bliss to despair. 
 
 Search in the mould and find 
 
 Where they all lie ; 
 Oh ! breeze, thou art unkind, 
 
 Letting them die. 
 
4 2 
 
 Red, yellow, spendid white, 
 
 Once proud to see, 
 Now they have bowed to night, 
 
 Death's victory. 
 
 Brown, dusty, withered, sere, 
 
 Death's disarray, 
 Marking a love once dear, 
 
 Now dead as they. 
 
43 
 
 LIFE'S SOLITUDE 
 
 Into the mighty solitude of life, 
 
 Each soul alone must go ; 
 
 Alone must battle in its ceaseless strife, 
 
 Among its wastes must wander to and fro: 
 
 At times a hand may stretch and touch his own, 
 
 And he may learn to love a friendly face, 
 
 And travelling on, he dreams he's not alone, 
 
 That hand-in-hand they travel at one pace, 
 
 And soul with soul is knit in friendship's tie; 
 
 But still there is a land 
 
 Where none can enter, where no other eye 
 
 Can see and understand. 
 
 Each soul must go alone, 
 
 And wander through the mansions of his thought ; 
 
44 
 Seeking the hopes and longings of his own, 
 And finding help in nought. 
 Alone the battle is to lose or win, 
 Alone the duty is forgot or done ; 
 And when at last Death grimly enters in, 
 And bids him watch his life's fast setting Sun, 
 When on Death's shoulders all his cares are 
 
 thrown, 
 Into the future land the soul must fare alone. 
 
45 
 
 A BLACKBIRD SINGING IN EDIN- 
 BURGH IN FEBRUARY 
 
 Hark there the voice of some melodious singer j 
 Some bird who pipes as if Spring were begun, 
 Forgetful that the storms of Winter linger, 
 And still have power to fright this fickle sun. 
 
 He whistles there within the dreary garden 
 Of this old town whose every wall is gray ; 
 So well he sings, no mortal man could harden 
 His heart to hurry heedless on his way. 
 
 Come, catch from that shrill whistle *ome 
 
 confusion 
 Of Summer's joy in every leaf and flower ; 
 What matter though you know it is delusion ? 
 Pluck, while yc may, this happy, shortlived h« 
 
4 6 
 
 What matter though the bird is now mistaking 
 The birth of Spring, in Winter's chilling reign ? 
 That glorious note with which his throat is 
 
 shaking, 
 Can cheer men's hearts ; the bird sings not in vain. 
 
 Let him sing on and dream of future pleasure, 
 Of mate and nest, snug in the leafy trees; 
 Come catch from him a trifle of his measure, 
 Come laugh with him in this his hour of ease. 
 
 The wind may blow and chill his throat to- 
 morrow, 
 Still let him sing to-day in careless glee ; 
 To-day is glad, and if I must know sorrow, 
 Enough to bear it when it come to me. 
 
 Sing on, sing on, thou blackbird, gay and joyous, 
 Thou'rt turning Winter to a dream of Spring ; 
 Some of the grief and troubles that annoy us 
 We learn to lose while we can hear thee sing. 
 
47 
 
 A MESSAGE 
 
 Hark! there, the wind from that far-distant 
 mountain, 
 
 Bearing its message out, out to the sea, 
 Telling the secret of river and fountain, 
 
 Scented with joys from each flower and each 
 tree; 
 Outward and onward its message is carried, 
 
 Gathering fragrance from hill-side and sky, 
 See ! there, it hurried, and there now it tarried, 
 
 Whispering, whispering, as it fled by. 
 
 Now it draws nearer, and we, too, shall capture 
 Some of the hope-laden echoes of Spring; 
 
 Never so tender, so perfect a rapture, 
 
 Breeze, as thy whispering melodies bring: 
 
 Here now it lingers and murmurs its tiding, 
 Catcli | cho of Spring at her best, 
 
4« 
 Hark ! there the song of some throstle presiding 
 Over his mate, lying snug in her nest. 
 
 Listen ! I catch the soft mirth of some river 
 
 Pattering down over rock, over stone, 
 All things in harmony nothing can sever, 
 
 Whispering, whispering hopes of their own, 
 Each thing has lent to the breeze in its passage 
 
 Some of the joy and the love that it knows $ 
 Faithful the breeze, for it whispers its message 
 
 Telling its tidings, as softly it blows. 
 
 Breeze, wilt thou carry one word in thy bosom, 
 
 One little message, one whisper from me ? 
 Find out a maiden, as fair as a blossom, 
 
 Find out a maid who lives over the sea ; 
 And when thou findest her, bend down and kiss 
 her, 
 
 Soft wrap her round from her head to her feet ; 
 There is none fairer : oh ! breeze, do not miss her, 
 
 Breeze, tell her softly, " I love you, my sweet." 
 
49 
 
 A NEW YEAR WISH 
 
 The New Year holds within his hand 
 
 His gifts for us to take or leave, 
 And, as he passes, may demand 
 
 New thoughts to cheer us or to grieve : 
 The best wish I can find, I send, 
 
 That when the year has passed away, 
 On looking back from end to end, 
 
 You find you've gained from time's decay. 
 
So 
 
 A BALLAD 
 
 Do you hear the sea a-calling 
 
 Sister mine, sister mine ; 
 While the waves are rising, falling, 
 
 Sister mine, sister mine ? 
 While each wave comes on unheeding 
 
 And crisps his foaming head, 
 Do you hear my lover pleading 
 
 To seek me from the dead ? 
 
 Do you hear the sad wind sobbing, 
 
 Sister mine, sister mine; 
 While the tide is pulsing, throbbing, 
 
 Sister mine, sister mine ? 
 Where the tranquil salt-pools glitter, 
 
 Where the steely moonbeams shine, 
 Where the wind tastes harsh and bitter, 
 
 Heavy-laden with the brine? 
 
5* 
 
 Do you see a ghost there standing, 
 
 Sister mine, sister mine ? 
 'Tis my lover there demanding, 
 
 Sister mine, sister mine, 
 'Tis my lover come to claim me, 
 
 From his grave within the deep, 
 'Tis my lover come to shame me 
 
 That I have no tears to weep. 
 
 Do you hear his voice entreating, 
 
 Sister mine, sister mine ; 
 Do you hear his dead heart beati 
 
 Sister mine, sister mine ? 
 His face is white and hollow, 
 
 His hand points out the way, 
 Do you hear him bid me follow? 
 
 Dear God, could I obey ! 
 
 These walls are close and binding, 
 Sister mine, sister mine; 
 
 This gaslight is too blinding, 
 Sister mine, sister mine: 
 
5* 
 
 I cannot see my lover, 
 
 Where he's lying waiting me, 
 While over him and over 
 
 Rolls the cruel, treacherous sea. 
 
 Some day I shall be going, 
 
 Sister mine, sister mine, 
 By the way Death will be showing, 
 
 Sister mine, sister mine ; 
 He will know me when I find him, 
 
 He will greet me as of old, 
 For though the seas may bind him, 
 
 His heart is never cold. 
 
53 
 
 SPRING 
 
 The Earth, her travail done, 
 
 In fulness of her time has given birth, 
 
 And from her fruitful womb has borne a son, — 
 
 Her son, the Spring, a child of perfect worth, 
 
 Begotten of great Phoebus, by whose rays 
 
 Old Time is lengthening all his days, 
 
 And stealing from the night the hours 
 
 In which to deck the flowers, 
 
 And teach each tender bud, 
 
 By gentle wooing of the rain 
 
 And pleasant breezes, blowing once again, 
 
 To burst its bonds; to give the trees young 
 
 blood 
 To clothe themselves in robes of green, 
 That nowhere in the land may there be seen 
 
54 
 One tree that is not bright and gay, 
 When Summer's queen shall pass that way. 
 So Earth and Sun, 
 
 Rejoicing in the welcome birth of Spring, 
 In his dear reign begun, 
 Outvie each other, who may bring 
 The choicest gifts their hands can hold, 
 The natal gifts for this, their youngest born ; 
 The Sun, to drive out niggard cold, 
 Has sent his dancing beams, and every morn 
 They play and sparkle round the cradle bed, 
 Whilst loving hands have decked the paths with 
 
 flowers, 
 That Earth's dear son be led 
 Through gladsome sights and odorous bowers, 
 Till at the last, when he must pass from sight, 
 He may bear glorious memories to the night, 
 And in the gifts they scatter round his feet, 
 Forget the woes that even Spring must meet. 
 The birds, in honour of the welcoming, 
 Pipe out their notes and sing 
 
55 
 
 A song with one accord 
 
 Of perfect love and glory in their lord ; 
 
 The little rivers dash and fret their foam 
 
 To join the chorus with their rippling voice, 
 
 And welcome to his home 
 
 The youngest born, who bids all things rejoice ; 
 
 The prophet of the sweets which Summer knows, 
 
 Yet having gifts as rich as those 
 
 Which she from all her wealth can bring, — 
 
 The perfect Son, the laughing, tender Spring. 
 
56 
 
 SUMMER 
 
 Summer, the stately queen, comes following 
 
 Spring, 
 The fickle boy of many a tear and smile, 
 The reckless prodigal, who dares to fling 
 His mirth abroad awhile, and then awhile 
 Turns him to sighs; 
 Spring flits, and then sweet Summer 
 Hotfoot behind appears a welcome corner^ 
 With steadfast eyes 
 And cloudless skies, 
 And surer health to leaf and flower, 
 Scattering from her plenteous dower 
 Her gracious gifts ; 
 Her work is to complete 
 All that the skill of Spring began* 
 Maturing with her radiant heat 
 
57 
 Each leaf to deeper green ; her presence lifts 
 All Nature's heart as only Summer can ; 
 The oak and ash no longer fear to spread 
 Their tender robes across their stately limbs ; 
 The flowers lay bare their hearts 
 And revel in the warmth her glance imparts ; 
 Each plot and walk and lane and bed 
 In the gay shimmer of her radiance swims. 
 
 The flowers she brings reflect her gracious face, 
 Buds splendid and seductive in their scent, 
 Luxurious roses, lolling in their grace, 
 Deigning to feed the bees who so frequent 
 Their majesties, that they must bend their head 
 And stoop beneath the waxen weight, 
 But that the pride of race, in which they're bred, 
 Cannot forget the glory of their stat 
 The sunflower, gorgeous in the noonday glow, 
 Looks down and nods all drowsy in the heat, 
 Watching in soft dfedtlll the buds be! 
 Who are content with a more lowly I 
 
58 
 
 Summer, who brings the swallows in her train, 
 The swifts, in darting eddies on their prey, 
 Hunting the busy gnats, to turn again 
 To those dark eaves where, through the live- 
 long day, 
 The gaping mouths of callow youngsters peer 
 And stretch and scream when their swift flight 
 
 draws near. 
 The birds all love her and can sing their best, 
 The cuckoo's voice in twofold echo rings, 
 And round the flowers, the butterflies, gay drest 
 In dainty grace, float by on lazy wings ; 
 Queen of fair days and queen of fairer nights, 
 When scent of hay lies heavy on the breeze, 
 When man with every throb of heart delights 
 To know her beauty, her delicious ease, 
 Summer, whose hands retain the magic skill 
 To clothe the garden, woodland, field and hill. 
 
 Yet Summer, in thy glory dost thou dream 
 
 Of that dread day when Autumn's step draws near, 
 
59 
 When chilling winds in constant anguish seem 
 To shout the message that thou wouldst not 
 
 hear ? 
 Art thou so careless, that thou dreamst away 
 Thy whole life long, until thou wak'st one day 
 To find thy reign is over, 
 To see the corn lie low and bee-loved clover, 
 All things on all sides telling thy reign done? 
 It may be so, and yet, methinks, I feel 
 Sometimes, when slowly sinks the happy sun, 
 When 'cross the senses thoughts of evening steal, 
 And stars gleam out to watch their maiden Queen, 
 When thy soft reign is at its grandest height, 
 And each night dreams of what the day has been, 
 And each day lives his best to bless the night, 
 In night's calm glory do I seem to hear 
 A whispered message warning everywhere 
 That thou art waiting, knowing all thine 
 Disdaining to betray thy growing fear, 
 Content to wait until Time's circles send 
 Thee on thy way, and leave us shivering here. 
 
6o 
 
 Spring's fairest sister, ever gentle Summer, 
 
 Perfect in beauty, long-expected comer, 
 
 Thou leav'st behind thee hearts that mourn in 
 
 vain, 
 Stored with the memories of thy Sun-girt reign. 
 
6i 
 
 YESTERDAY 
 
 I gaze upon a ghost with sad, dim eyes, 
 
 With hand outstretched to touch and grasp mine 
 
 own ; 
 The face of one in bitterest sorrow wise, 
 Whose fate is life, but life uncheered, ak 
 Who knows remorse, and tinged with deep regret, 
 Old memories which rise and cry aloud ; 
 Whose day is done, whose sun for ever set, 
 Who yet may never know Death's friendly 
 
 shroud, 
 Who gazes ever on life's backward way, 
 The sad-eyed ghost of dead, lost yesterday, 
 
62 
 
 TO-MORROW 
 
 Thou brightest, fairest one, 
 Brother to thy sad sister Yesterday, 
 Whose work has all been done, 
 And with the setting sun, 
 Has passed away. 
 
 To-morrow, with thy light, 
 Thou bringest in thy hand a plenteous store 
 Of gracious hope's delight, 
 When this dividing night 
 Shall close her door. 
 
 In thy bright dawn we see 
 The shadows of to-day grow pale and faint ; 
 We see our victory, 
 When all our life shall be 
 Without a taint. 
 
63 
 
 And though thine advent bring 
 The fading of some light in grim despair, 
 Yet ever on hope's wing 
 Our hearts will rise and sing, 
 " The morrow's fair." 
 
 To thee we strain our eyes, 
 And strive to read the future's mystery, 
 As sunlight swiftly flies 
 And it's ripe glory dies, 
 We long for thee. 
 
 So " welcome " will I cry, 
 E'en though life's sorrows overwhelm mc here; 
 And when I come to die, 
 Let my voice rise on high, 
 " To-morrow's near." 
 
64 
 
 THE SONG OF THE SEA 
 
 Careless, careless croons the sea 
 
 In a lazy melody ; 
 
 Softly rising, softly falling, 
 
 None would ever know 
 
 Dead men's voices calling, palling, 
 
 From the depths below. 
 
 Tender, tender is the wind, 
 Calling in a voice that's kind 
 To the laughing, gurgling waves, 
 As they leap at play 
 Hiding all those dreary graves 
 From the light of day. 
 
 Dreary, dreary is the wailing, 
 When the gentle wind is failing, 
 
65 
 And you catch the sobbing cry 
 Of the voices of the dead, 
 Stealing upward to the sky 
 From their sea- weed bed. 
 
 Treacherous, treacherous is the sea, 
 
 Even in that melody, 
 
 And the waves that sighing, sighing, 
 
 As they break and go, 
 
 Echo voices of the dying 
 
 From the depths below. 
 
66 
 
 DESPAIR 
 
 I heard a sobbing voice at night, 
 
 That thrilled with pain the listening air ; 
 Then, said I, " This must be the height 
 "Of all despair." 
 
 I heard the sigh of one who hides 
 
 His bitterest sorrow in his heart : 
 Then said I, "There's no grief, besides, 
 Can have a part/' 
 
 I heard loud laughter, harsh yet gay, 
 
 Choking the sense of shame or fear ; 
 And then I knew, but dared not say — 
 " This is despair." 
 
6 7 
 
 QUEEN OF THE FLOWERS 
 
 Flowers, do you know who is coming here, 
 
 Flowers, do you realize 
 That some one is coming with eyes as clear 
 
 As the blue in the summer skies? 
 Some one is coming who can outshine 
 
 Even your radiant grace, 
 Even the tints of your buds divine 
 
 By the charm of her maiden face. 
 
 Rose, you will pale when you see her lips, 
 
 Lily, you'll blush to know 
 There is a purity can eclipse 
 
 Aught that your face can show ; 
 Jessamine, your little hands will grope 
 
 To clutch at her twining hair ; 
 You breathe out the scent of your secret hope 
 
 To the joy of the summer air. 
 
68 
 
 I said, there was none in this world of ours 
 
 So fair, little flowers, as you ; 
 And yet, do you know what I found, dear flowers ? 
 
 I found that I spake not true. 
 I have found the face of one tender maid, 
 
 Where the lily and rose combine, 
 And, lily and rose, you both will fade 
 
 When you gaze on this maid of mine. 
 
 Now when she passes along the grass, 
 
 Lift up your head, my rose, 
 Smile at her bravely until she pass, 
 
 Then bend your head and close, 
 Close in your bosom the memory, 
 
 In the home of your sheltering leaf, 
 For though you may fade, there still win* be 
 
 A thought that can bring relief. 
 
 Come, little lily, you are as white 
 And pure as unfallen snow ; 
 
6 9 
 
 See ! I will give you the best delight 
 That mortal or flower can know ; 
 
 You shall be plucked, and in your death 
 Find life that can never die ; 
 
 You shall rise and fall with my lady's breath, 
 On her dainty bosom lie. 
 
 Flowers, you are tender and innocent, 
 
 You children of hopefulness, 
 Lading the air with your mingled scent, 
 
 Born but to love and bless ; 
 Still, little flowers, though fair you are, 
 
 And pure as the skies above, 
 You will see a grace more fair by far, 
 
 Flowers, when you see my love. 
 
70 
 
 "TROPFEN AUS DER EWIGKEIT' 
 
 A little hour of sunshine and of rain, 
 A little day of April smiles and showers, 
 A little pleasure and a little pain, 
 Each mingled in this motley life of ours. 
 
 A little day and then the Great Unknown, 
 A little gleam of shadows and gray light,- 
 A little graveyard and a little stone, 
 And then at length the dawning of day-light. 
 
7* 
 
 AUTUMN 
 
 Season of dying loveliness, 
 Gorgeous in bright decay, 
 
 Autumn, your fairy fingers bless 
 The joys you steal away. 
 
 Season of hopeless glory, 
 
 When tree and hedge and leaf 
 
 In beauty transitory 
 
 Would fain conceal their grief. 
 
 Season of lovely sunshine, 
 
 Season of bitter frost, 
 There is no glory so divine 
 
 At such a mighty cost. 
 
72 
 
 Those same hands that paint the tree 
 
 A gleam of gold and red, 
 Have killed the glory silently, 
 
 And, passing, leave it dead* 
 
 Autumn, your beauty lingers 
 
 In freshness everywhere, 
 Though the work of your quick fingers 
 
 Has fashioned Summer's bier. 
 
 The joy you bring, we grudge you 
 Though glorious 'tis to see, 
 
 For we can only judge you 
 By what the end must he» 
 
73 
 
 A WHISPER 
 
 A whisper came from the mighty hills : — 
 
 " Man's little day is brief; 
 And fate will carry him whither it wills, 
 
 As autumn winds a leaf. 
 And man may struggle and strive, but lo, 
 
 One little breath of wind, 
 And the place where he has been, none will know, 
 
 And the place where he is, none find." 
 
 A whisper came from the dainty flowers : — 
 
 " Man's little day is bright ; 
 Pluck the best of the happy hours, 
 
 And dream no more of night. 
 
74 
 For the frost may come in beauty's prime, 
 
 Or tarry till joy be dead : 
 Come, laugh, while ye may, in the summer-time, 
 
 And smile while the sun's o'erhead." 
 
 A whisper came from the stars above : — 
 
 " Man's little day must go : 
 But God's own gift, his gift of love, 
 
 Will pass neither fast nor slow : 
 Though narrow the path man's feet have trod, 
 
 He'll carry his love from earth, 
 And the use that he made of his gift from God 
 
 Is the measure of each man's worth." 
 
75 
 
 NIGHT 
 
 The great Sun, sinking in the crimson west, 
 
 Hushes the tired world to gentle sleep, 
 
 Forgetting now the radiant joys of day, 
 
 Only desiring rest. 
 
 The purple essence of the dying Sun 
 
 Illumines all the sky, then slowly fades; 
 
 The little breeze is hushed, and strangely still 
 
 The world awaits the coming boon of sleep. 
 
 All day, the ocean beat its waves in vain 
 
 Against the moveless rocks: 
 
 All day, the sea-birds swept their restless flight, 
 
 The sea, the birds are very peaceful now. 
 
 The moon peeps out and with her maids, the stars, 
 
 Kcq>s her unerring watch upon the night. 
 
 The world itself is sunk in silent sleep. 
 
7 6 
 
 Man's short day done, he lays his armour down 
 And waits the coming night and rest at last, 
 Forgetting now the lust and joy of life : 
 And gentle death, who brings the boon of sleep. 
 Stands near and watches with her tender eyes ; 
 And all the world for that one man is still — 
 Then gentle Death bends down and with her 
 
 breath 
 Scented with odours from that distant isle, 
 All men have dreamed of, breathes upon his lips, 
 And gives her boon, the greatest boon of all, 
 Peace. 
 
77 
 
 "COME BACK, MY LOVI 
 
 Come back, my love, and whisper the old song, 
 
 Come back, come back. 
 Forgive, forget the bitter stain of wrong 
 
 That followed on love's track j 
 In this still night, let past and present meet, 
 And bless my dreams with your returning feet. 
 
 Come back, my love, come back and whisper low, 
 
 Love, hasten here i 
 Come back again, dear heart, and let me know 
 
 My life is still your care; 
 Whisper one word, and let the darkness * 
 More brilliant than the daylight in my dream, 
 
78 
 Come back, my love, the day is very cold, 
 
 And grim and sad; 
 Only when night her sheltering wings unfold, t 
 
 Can my tired heart be glad ; 
 For in that mimic death I still may learn 
 A joy that rougher sunbeams scorn and spurn. 
 
 Come back and whisper with your fragrant 
 breath, 
 
 Come back and teach 
 The life you'd have me live till tender death 
 
 Stoop down to me and reach, 
 And draw me hence to some place where, may be, 
 I shall have grace to love eternally. 
 
79 
 
 AN INVOCATION TO SPRING 
 
 Welcome, young Springtime, 
 
 Come to us laughingly, 
 
 Speed on thy way to us 
 
 Weary of Winter: 
 
 Come and awake again 
 
 Blossom and fruit-trees ; 
 
 Cast o'er the dry earth 
 
 Thy sheltering mantle ; 
 
 Tarry not longer 
 
 Young Spring, whom we love so; 
 
 Thou who canst bear 
 
 In thy young, fragrant bosom 
 
 Hope ami the wakening 
 
 Joy of new lite. 
 
8o 
 
 Come to us laughingly, 
 
 Child of the Sunshine, 
 
 Bring in thy kingdom, 
 
 And shame niggard Winter; 
 
 Wake the young life 
 
 That is sleeping around us, 
 
 Blow thy clear horn 
 
 On the hills and the valleys ; 
 
 Whisper thy thoughts 
 
 To the birds in the tree-tops, 
 
 Whisper of love and of Summer again. 
 
 Come, thou young prophet, 
 
 And prophesy sweet things ; 
 
 Sing us thy songs 
 
 Of life and of May time ; 
 
 For we are weary 
 
 Of frost and his harshness ; 
 
 Sick for the flowers 
 
 And the wakening beauty ; 
 
 Touch the old trees, 
 
8i 
 
 That they blossom in finery, 
 
 Soft tender greenness, 
 
 The promise of life, 
 
 Break the hard earth 
 
 And rouse the white snowdrop 
 
 Up from the cold earth, 
 
 So long his chamber ; 
 
 Wake the white snowdrop, 
 
 For he, it is beckons, 
 
 Calls on the others, 
 
 His timider playmates, 
 
 Primrose and violet, 
 
 Waiting for some one 
 
 Bold to appear 
 
 And taste of the new day, 
 
 Ere they will venture 
 
 Out to the world. 
 
 Come, tender Spring, 
 
 For we worship and love thee ; 
 
 We will forgive thec 
 
82 
 
 Thy light, fickle ways: 
 
 We will remember 
 
 When thou art angry, 
 
 That thou hast come to us 
 
 Rich in thy fragrance: 
 
 And though thou feign est 
 
 Flight on the sudden, 
 
 We will remember 
 
 All that thou bringest, 
 
 We will remember 
 
 And laugh with thee, Spring. 
 
 Fly away, Winter, 
 For young Spring is coming ; 
 Art thou not shamed 
 Of all thy destruction ? 
 Spring comes to build again 
 Where thou destroyest ; 
 Spring comes to sing again, 
 Sweet songs of love. 
 
«3 
 
 GOOD-BYE 
 
 Good-bye: good-bye: 
 
 So let us kiss and go, 
 
 For see ! around us winter's spell is nigh, 
 
 Grim frost and snow. 
 
 The trees are shivering at his clutch 
 
 On every side ; 
 
 Love came and tarried, but at one hard touch, 
 
 Lo ! he died. 
 
 Good-bye: good-bye: 
 
 Summer is dead, and we 
 
 Must now go forth and travel far and wiJc, 
 
 Alone with memory. 
 
 Good-bye: good-bye: 
 
 We loved, but now 'tis o\ 
 
8 4 
 
 And sad beneath a wintry sky 
 
 We part in sorrow : 
 
 Unless, unless, when fields are sweet with clover, 
 
 We meet again, just you and I, 
 
 On some fresh, glad, tomorrow* 
 
»5 
 
 "AVE ATQUE VALE." 
 
 The quiet of dawn 
 
 Creeps down and settles on the throbbing night ; 
 
 All fateful lies the hush, 
 
 Before the sunrise wakes the birds to life, 
 
 The hush, that waits upon the rising sun. 
 
 Within the house, a silence hangs and broods, 
 
 Nought breaking it, except a feeble breath 
 
 Which falling rises, rising falls again, 
 
 Until it sinks to very nothingness j 
 
 A hand steals out and draws the blind close down, 
 
 While over all the earth the sun leaps up, 
 
 Flooding the world with his vital 
 
 Only within the house night reigns supreme. 
 
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