;-NRLF ALE VERSE " CHAUNCEY WETMORE WELLS 1872-1933 This book belonged to Chauncey Wetmore Wells. He taught in Yale College, of which he was a graduate, from 1897 to 1901, and from 1901 to 1933 at this University. Chauncey Wells was, essentially, a scholar. The range of his read- ing was wide, the breadth of his literary sympathy as uncommon as the breadth of his human sympathy. He was less concerned with the collection of facts than with meditation upon their sig- nificance. His distinctive power lay in his ability to give to his students a subtle perception of the inner implications of form, of manners, of taste, of the really disciplined and discriminating mind. And this perception appeared not only in his thinking and teaching but also in all his relations with books and with men. YALE VERSE COMPILED BY CHARLES EDMUND MERRILL, JR. NEW YORK MAYNARD, MERRILL, & CO. 1899 COPYRIGHT, 1899, BY MAYNARD, MERRILL, & CO. IN MEMORIAM C\)J.\X)e\U NOTE An editor's judgment, at best, is only personal, and it is certain that there are omissions from this volume that many will regret ; it is hoped, however, that at least the spirit of the under- graduate verse of the last decade at Yale is fairly represented. The contents of the book, without exception, have been taken from the files of the Yale Courant, the Yale Literary Magazine, and the Yale Record, and to the editorial boards of these papers, without whose co-operation Yale Verse could not have been compiled, and to Mr. C. W. Wells, '96, for valuable assistance, the editor's thanks are due. NEW YORK, December, iSg8. TO L. W. B. These idle songs of yesterday Must now the idle hours betray Of that brief ^tnf or gotten time Of primroses and bells achime, And hopes and fears too svveet to stay. So all of youth our roundelay ; No rapt heroics we essay, Nor to the clear cold heights may climb These idle songs. No ! of the valleys green and gay (Our caps and gowns a merry mime Of caps and bells') we make our rhyme ; Worthless? Ah, thafsfor you to say, For whom were gathered by the way These idle songs. CONTENTS After Reading "The Manly Heart" . Afterwhile, . Arab Love Song, Arbutus, At Even, Aurora, The, Ballade of Peaceful Defeat, Ballad of Poet's Love, Bell, The, Block Island, By Percee's Rill, . Cassandra, . Choice Corpse's Clock, The, . Cradle Song, Cynic, The, . D'Artagnan's Ride, . Dirge, A, Dark Clouds, Dorothy, Down the Road, . Drinking Tea, Dusk and Dawn, . Epitaph, Exhortation, Robert L. Hunger, . . 47 W. A. Moore, . . - 95 Arthur Willis Colton, . . 87 Arthur Willis Colton, . . 55 Robert L. Hunger, . . 140 Huntington Mason, . . 90 j Sidney Robinson Kennedy, I I Charles Edmund Merrill, Jr., 9 Albert Sargent Davis, . . 20 Huntington Mason, . . 118 P. L. Thompson, . . .148 Frederick Tilney, ... 24 Richard H. Worthington, . 92 Charles B. De Camp, . . 72 Huntington Hason, . . 46 Robert L. Hunger, . . 145 Hugh A. Callahan, . . 150 Gouverneur Horris, . . 40 Chauncey Wetmore Wells, . 150 William Lyon Phelps, . . 88 Chauncey Wetmore Wells, . 85 Herbert A. Smith, ... 51 Arthur Willis Colton, . . 158 Charles Potter Hine, . . 102 Charles Edmund Herrill, Jr., 73 Charles B. De Camp, . . 83 CONTENTS r AGE Fall, .... Charles Potter Hine, 65 Fool in Lear, The, Hugh A. Callahan, 79 From the Class Poem of 1889, T. W. Buchanan, . 7i From the Class Poem of 1890, Arthur Willis Colton, . 53 From the Class Poem of 1896, A. R. Thompson, . 103 God's Will, . . Robert L. Munger, 82 Horace in New Haven, Charles Edmund Merrill, Jr., 3i 11 Bel Canto, Charles Edward Thomas, 86 Interlude, An, Sidney Robinson Kennedy, 142 Lament, The, Albert Sargent Davis, . 58 Lost Memory, A, . Philip Curran Peck, Q8 Love's Blindness, Franklin Atkins Lord, . IOO March, .... Eugene Watson Burlingame, 106 Margaret, Charles Edward Thomas, . 109 Mater Dolorosa, . Charles Edward Thomas, . 36 May-Day, Charleton M. Lewis, 29 Moon- Wine, . Arthur Willis Colton, . 153 Mountain Flower, J. W. Broach, .... 62 Mount Osceola, . , Walter D. Makepeace, . 35 Norns, The, . Charles Edward Thomas, . 124 O Fons Bandusiae ! . Charles Edward Thomas, . ii Out of the Night, Arthur Willis Colton, . 105 Ophelia, Burton J. Hendrick, 57 Ophelia of To-day, An, Lindsay Denison, 22 Penelope, Burton J. Hendrick, 127 Pictures in Season, Charles B. De Camp, 49 Questus Amoris, . Charles Potter Hine, in Rachael at Rama, Chauncey Wetmore Wells, . 126 Reverie, A, ... Hugh A. Callahan, 61 Rubaiyat, Charles Edmund Merrill, Jr., 137 Scholar, The, Robert L. Munger, 38 Schubert, John Victor Doniphan, Jr., . 80 Sleep, . . . Walter D. Makepeace, . 146 8 CONTENTS Song (After the Sing- ing Birds are Gone), Song (As a Dreamer in the Shade), . Song (Cradle's Quiet), Song (Lady, when at Evening Hour), Song (What Must Be Must Be, Little One), Song (When Chimney Tops are Capped with Snow), Song from " Phocion and Chloris," . Song of the Sailor's Son, .... Songs of the Snow, Soul's Recall, The, Svend the Black, Tender and Cool Is the Night There's One Keeps Watch, They Fought so Well, Threnody, A, To a Moth, . Transmigration, . True Drake and Gen- tleman Joceylin, Twilight Voices, Vesper Song, Vestal, A, ... Villanelle, . Waiting Year, The, . Water-Lily, A, With Passing Years, . PAGE Arthur Willis Colton, . . 37 Robert L. Munger, . . 30 Robert L. Munger, . . 117 Arthur Willis Colton, . . 60 Forsyth Wickes, '. . . 119 Robert L. Munger, . . 121 Arthur Willis Colton, . . 156 Gouverneur Morris, . . 155 Arthur Willis Colton, . . 13 Charles Edward Thomas, . 76 Charles Edward Thomas, . 43 Arthur Willis Colton, . . 144 Forsyth Wickes, ... 64 F. L. Thompson, ... 38 Charleton M. Lewis, . . 135 Charles Edward Thomas, . 18 Edward Wells, Jr., . . 122 Gouverneur Morris, . . 129 T. W. Buchanan, ... 67 Sidney Robinson Kennedy, 107 Arthur Willis Colton, . . no H. C. Robbins, . . .147 A. R. Thompson, . . . 115 Walter D. Makepeace, . . 120 Frederick Tilney, . . . 113 O FONS BANDUSIAE! A LAMENT O FOUNTAIN of Bandusia blest ! The world's been growing sadly old, Since first thy sacred waters ran In sparkling rivulets of gold. The nymphs that made the echoes ring, In grot and grave, with laughter gay, Long, long ago grew sore dismayed And with the satyrs fled away. Now all is still where white-robed priests Once chanted round some holy shrine ; And broods the silence of the tomb Where sat the sacred sisters nine. TI O FONS BANDUSIAE! ,Q t Fountain of Bandusia blest ! (Dur beaVts* are sad we sigh with thee, And yearn for Pan and shepherd's reeds And old-time, pastoral revelry. But Pan is dead. Long, long ago They snapped his shepherd's reed in twain, Thy streams flow on thro' endless years, But Pan will ne'er come back again. SONGS OF THE SNOW I PRELUDE BEAUTIFUL snow ! O children of cloud ! The day is departing, the night cometh on, And the soft, cloistral face of the night overbowed Looks down through her wavering veil like a nun. The sound of the church bells drops over the air, And my thoughts through old stones and strange legends go. 13 SONGS OF THE SNOW Lady Irmingarde kneels at her window in prayer Till on her cold eyelids the morning winds blow. II CHRISTMAS EVE The Abbot is counting his beads in his cell With a flagon beside him. The Abbot drinks well, And he'll empty it oft ere the first matin bell. All's quiet, all's well ! " Hist ! Brother Menander, a word in thine ear ! I'll show thee a way, if the corridor's clear, 14 SONGS OF THE SNOW To the Abbot's own cellar. The Abbot may hear? Never fear, never fear ! " So Brother Menander, and bold Brother John, Creeping barefoot and scared, reached the cellar anon, While outside the moon the cold snow- fields upon Shone bitter and wan. But whether they drank till the first matin bell And were caught by the Abbot, no chronicles tell, But I know it was Christmas eve when it befell, And all quiet and well. SONGS OF THE SNOW 'ill THE CAROL SINGER Gentles all, or knights or ladies, Happiness be yours, alway ! Dance and caroling our trade is, But we sing for love to-day. Merry lads and dainty lasses Trip beneath the mistletoe ; Dance to sound of clinking glasses, Bells are ringing o'er the snow. By the look that on your face is, Sweet, my song is worth a kiss ; There is weeping in cold places, We must laugh the more in this. 16 SONGS OF THE SNOW Gentles all, or knights or ladies, Happiness be yours, alway ! Dance and caroling our trade is, But we sing for love to-day. IV L'ENVOI Cold winds sighing, Cold flakes flying, Cold boughs waving to and fro ; Cold days colder, Old dreams older, With the moving seasons grow. But whatever Snows may shiver TO A MOTH Through the trees, or bleak winds blow. Still forever Flows the river Underneath the ice and snow. TO A MOTH CRUSHED WITHIN THE LEAVES OF AN ILIAD POOR Creature! nay, I'll not say poor, Why, surely, thou art wondrous blest ; Right royal is this sepulcher Fate gave thee for thy last long rest. See here 'tis but two lines above The spot that marks thy early tomb Here Paris breathes his burning love To her who compassed Ilia's doom. iS TO A MOTH And here, upon a neighboring page, The great Achilles moans his friend, All careless, in his kingly rage, Of bane or curse the gods may send. Above, below thee, everywhere, Fierce Trojan strives with wily Greek ; And mighty lords, with tawny hair, Deep words of war and wisdom speak. The high gods gaze upon thee here, Great warriors guard thy resting-place Perchance thou see'st a burning tear Steal down Briseis* home-turned face. Aye ! rest content, for thou hast won, A tomb that kings might wish in vain, About thee shines the all-seeing sun, And roars the many-sounding main. THE BALLAD OF POET'S LOVE BALLADE A DOUBLE REFRAIN IF it were not for you, O Vanessas, With your eyes of " the night " or " the blue," With your "raven" or "sun-lighted" tresses, Pray what would our poetry do ? But though we write verses to you, And vow that we never shall part, Remember that all his life through The poet must love for his art. Were it not for the blush that confesses The secret the heart hardly knew, 20 THE BALLAD OF POET'S LOVE And the thrill of the poet who guesses, Pray what would our poetiy do ? Forgive us, then, if we but woo For a time and to others depart. Light Fancy is all we pursue ; The poet must love for his art. Were it not for those clinging caresses, The sweet lips that falter "Be true," And the coy little " Noes " that are " Yeses " Pray what would our poetry do ? In clasping or dreaming of you Rich fancies most glowingly start, Inspiration we gather anew The poet must love for his art. 21 AN OPHELIA OF TO-DAY L'ENVOI Sweet maids, did we yearn not for you, Pray what would our poetry do ? Ah, flash of the passionate heart ! The poet must love for his art. AN OPHELIA OF TO-DAY " And from her fair and unpolluted flesh may violets spring." Hamlet, IV. HIGH up the silent river's grassy bank, Beneath a lonely oak tree, is a mound ; The head is by a dying rose-bush crowned, Across whose roots there lies a rotting plank That long ago did bear a woman's name. 22 AN OPHELIA OF TO-DAY The breeze that sets the grass in rolling waves Breathes forth a gentle violet scent that saves The dismal place from all unkindly fame. She is at rest. She might not sleep, poor child, In holy ground ; for she herself gave back Her gift of life to Him from whom it came. But Nature, in her mood of mercy mild Unwilling that all love her child should lack, Now by this sweetest pall removes all blame. 2 3 BY PERCEE'S RILL MANY and many a time, Mary, For many and many a year, The sun's come up all bright to shine Upon the greenwood, dear. And many and many a day, love, He's dropt behind the hill That stands above Mackormel lea Just back of Percee's rill. I've heard the cocks crow far away, The red cock flap his wing, I've seen the gray dawn set afire, I've heard the wood-birds sing. 24 BY PERCE&S RILL A summer's day, they seem to say, The sun is up and merry, The cream is thick, the air is soft, Your love is in the dairy. And oft betimes at harvesting He melts the frosty dew, He wakes the partridge and the thrush And, sweet one, wakens you. He comes when ice throws back to him His red, raw, burning face And down the valley by the hill The winter night winds race. To-day I lie by Percee's rill, I hear its restful flow, And wonder through what channels, dear, Our blessed love will go. 25 BY PERCEE'S RILL For mine is like the great red sun And shines and shines on you With all the fire he sends at dawn To dry the morning dew. I think no wind can chill my love, No storm can beat it down, No early frost can wither it And make its freshness brown. But we are young in life, my love, I dream by Percee's rill, And that flows through the long burnside And far beyond the hill. Oh, lithesome lass, the brooks and braes We've wandered by together, The long green hills, the summer downs, The waving grass and heather ! 26 BY PERCEE'S RILL My happy love of careless days, How many pranks we've played, How oft in snow-white daisy-fields With thoughtless songs we've strayed ! I've seen you climb the paddock fence And hiding in the fern. We guddled for the spinney trout In deep Kilkirtle's burn. The russet apples, rosy cheeked, We've feasted on together, And berries red and berries blue We've found in sunny weather. So prank and song come back to-day, I lie by Percee's rill A-dreamin' of the dear lang syne With summer on the hill. 27 BY PERCEE'S RILL 'Twas then my sun first rose all red, Langsyne and small and glowing, And every day and every year I've found him still a-growing. Till now he's in the mid-day sky With ne'er a thought of sinking, But yonder are the western hills, And so I'm sadly thinking That some time he will slip away Across an evening sky, Behind the hill and in the sea Will lay him down and die. It may be cantie, cantie years, It may be days of sorrow, It may be love will set to-night And never bring to-morrow. 28 MA Y-DA Y And so I muse by Percee's rill, The long, still morning hours ; The sun shines down a golden warmth On honey bees and flowers. MAY-DAY " PRETTY mistress of the Maying, Maiden fair of many graces, While I watch you at your playing Tell me whether maidens' faces,- Dainty pale or blushing bright, Can be ever read aright ? " Master Mournful, I have seen you, Seen you too, sir, softly sighing," Says the poet, " say what mean you, (No demurring, no denying) 29 SONG Can it be Love's cruel dart Is imbedded in your heart ?" Loving is an easy sorrow, Sunshine always comes to-morrow: All they need is but the saying (Saying, far the sweetest part) She the mistress of the Maying, He the master of her heart. SONG As a dreamer in the shade, When the day is dim, Heedeth only sylvan glade, Time is naught to him ; So I reck nor time nor grieving, Only thee and love's believing. 3 HORACE IN NEW HAVEN If thine arms are stretched to me When the violets blow, When through buds of hawthorn-tree Sifted blossoms go ; So I reck nor time nor gain, But thy kisses brought again. HORACE IN NEW HAVEN I INTEGER VIT^E THE man that promptly settles with the bursar Needs not a pull to win his way thro* college, Nor need he heed $. B. K.'s curse, or Envy her knowledge. HORACE IN NEW HAVEN Whether th* inhospitable Welch receive him Or in South Middle dark his path and rough be, Still shall the dean, with gracious smile, believe him, Whate'er his bluff be. For as I wandered to my room last Mon- day, Singing his praise who had my bill receipted, Fierce Mr. Hotchkiss, who had cut me Sunday, Pleasantly greeted. Throw me in White, in Farnam (which is worse), or 32 HORACE IN NEW HAVEN Far in the halls remote of Pierson land me, The sweetly singing, sweetly smiling bursar Still shall command me. II PERSICOS GDI Boy, I detest these modern innovations, The Voice crusade may alter some men's habit, But, as for me, I'll stick to my old rations, Ale and a rarebit. In vino vis. The pious dames of Ipswich, Knowing its worth and fearing lest men waste it, 33 HORACE IN NEW HAVEN. Condemn its use in christening battle- ships, which Can't even taste it. Old Cato Major (and, no doubt, his wife, too), Found in Falernian, mixed with milder Massic, Courage which led him at his time of life, to Read the Greek classic. Yes, Cato drank, nor should we lightly damn a Man who, at eighty and without coer- cion, Mastered Liddell and Scott, and Hadley's grammar, My pet aversion. 34 MOUNT OSCEOLA Elihu's ways, they say, are growing sinful, Crimes that are nameless are committed daily. Oscar! my toby, and I'll sin a skinful, So to bed gayly. MOUNT OSCEOLA SOUTH lie the lakes, the Past's broad monotone, Save where an islet shows a hope ful- filled. North rise the mountain solitudes, alone Knowing the cloud-wrapped Future, heaven-willed. 35 MATER DOLOROSA His Mother, Our Lady of Sorrows, Stood alone on Calvary's hill, Three crosses reeled against the sky And all the world was still. They came to Our Lady of Sorrows, Came gently to lead her away, But she set her face towards that cross on high And watched through the fearful day. Then they said, " Dear Lady of Sorrows, Still thine anguish and raise thine head, For a Prince has come to His Father's home ! " But she answered, " My Son is dead." 36 SONG AFTER the singing birds are gone And the leaves are parched and low, When the kind old earth is gaunt and worn, Then comes the snow. Hushed are the world's discordant notes By the soft hand of snow, And the beauty of its silence floats Across me ere I know. Oh ! when the silver cord is loosed And the golden bowl is broken, And the spirit poured on the air unused, As one hath spoken, 37 THEY FOUGHT SO WELL After the last faint throb of breath And the jar of life's outflow, After the fever, may not death Be like the snow ? THEY FOUGHT SO WELL THEY fought so well to fill a distant grave ! Lightly they ran to soothe and help and save, For there was heard afar a feeble moan. With livid flash the hellish cannon shone, And threw a saddened light on what they gave. It was not for themselves that they were brave ; 38 THEY FOUGHT SO WELL Naught else but Right eternal they would crave, And leaped with ravishment to fall unknown, They fought so well ! The bitter bondage wrenched and left the slave ; Their bones the secret clefts and valleys pave. But with the clinging grasses over- grown, A lasting spell is round about them thrown ; We feel the stir in airs that o'er them wave, They fought so well. 39 D'ARTAGNAN'S RIDE FIFTY leagues, fifty leagues and I ride, and I ride Fifty leagues as the black crow flies. None of the three are by my side . . . The black horse reels, and the black horse dies But I ride, and I ride To Callice. We were four, we were four and I ride, and I ride We were four, but Porthos lies God knows where by the highway- side . . . 40 D'ARTAGNAN'S RIDE The roan horse reels, and the roan horse dies But I ride, and I ride To Callice. We were three, we were three and I ride, and I ride We were three ; but Aramis lies Fettered and bound and chained and tied . . . The dun horse reels, and the dun horse dies But I ride, and I ride To Callice. We were two, we were two and I ride, and I ride We were two, but the devil's spies 41 D'ARTAGNAN'S RIDE Tore brave Athos from my side . . . The bay horse reels, and the bay horse dies But I ride, and I ride To Callice. All alone, all alone and I ride, and I ride All alone, and an ambush lies God knows where by the highway- side . . . The gray horse reels, and the gray horse dies But I ride, and I ride To Callice. 42 SVEND THE BLACK SING ye the saga of Svend the Black, Who dwelt in the fiord where the white waves foam. Fleeter than wolves on the reindeer's track Was the keel of his vessel speeding home. And fiercer than wolves were his fighting men, The Dragon's brood, they were called afar, Ne'er were such warriors seen till then Under the light of the pale North Star. 43 SVEND THE BLACK They put to sea one wintry day, When the winds blew shrill, and the driv- ing sleet Followed the ship as she sailed away Down to where fiord and ocean meet. They sailed away at Yuletide cheer ; They would come, they said, ere many a day When winds were gentle and skies were fair, The Dragon would anchor within the bay. But years rolled by and Yuletides passed, And warriors grew into sages wise, Yet never a glimpse of the Dragons mast Came to gladden the watcher's eyes. 44 SVEND THE BLACK But mariners tell that at Yuletide cheer, When darkness falls on the raging sea, Like ghastly echoes they seem to hear Faint, far-off sounds of revelry. And wild o'er the roar of the night waves' foam There rings the skoal ! of the Dragon'; men, "Tis Svend and his warriors speeding home To the haven they never shall see again. 45 THE CORPSE'S CLOCK BLACK sea and sandy dune ; The driven storm-wrack veils the moon. Hark to the corpse's clock Tick, tock ! Tick, tock ! White face and eyes that stare j Seaweed twined in dripping hair. Sounds forth the corpse's clock Tick, tock ! Tick, tock ! AFTER READING "THE MANLY HEART" SlNG me not thy madrigal, Love hath wedded sorrow, Buds that shattered are to-day Cannot bloom to-morrow. Blossoms that delight the tree Are but poorly cherished, If they fade disconsolate And lie sadly perished. Surely, if some graces be Very far above her, 'Tis her frailty maketh but Better cause to love her. 47 AFTER READING " THE MANLY HEART When I see the day-morn ride O'er the western willow, Looking through the morning sky Down upon my pillow, To its evening glory then All my heart is turning And to her that keepeth still All my heart a-burning. Sing me not thy madrigal, For I saw in sleeping, Love had tears within her eyes, Love that was a-weeping. PICTURES IN SEASON GRAY sky, gray sea, A white sail slipping listlessly Over the quiet heave Of the water that catches the light on the rise Ere it rolls to the trough and in dull drab dies. The sail is lost in the dreary skies. Gray fields, gray sky, A white-plumed bird wings slowly by Seeking the banished sun. Now a bird, now a shape, "now a dot on the gray ; 49 PICTURES IN SEASON It is gone, there is only the fading day Whose death-song moans in the guant tree's sway. Gray eyes, gray gown, A glance the lashes sweeping down Rest on a white, white cheek. As a picture that trembles through up- welling tears Is effaced in the sobbing, so disappears This fancy, too, in the mist of years. DOWN THE ROAD WE passed in silence down the road To where a narrow footpath led Aslant the pasture-land, that showed The quivering heat of July's sun Against the hillsides green ahead. In silence, for the weeks had gone Unheeded in the happiness That comes of friendship's treasures won, Till all unmarked the time had come For separation, merciless. One moment by the path we stood, One moment lay her hand in mine, While sweeping o'er me like a flood 5* DOWN THE ROAD The weeks, returning, lived again, And thrilled me like a chord divine. Unfound the words we strove to say ; A brief good-by, a quivering look, Then turned we to our onward way, Which, widening evermore since then, Each from the other further took. Yet though our paths still further bend Asunder, not as unfulfilled The promise of that day's sweet pain, For in my heart its angel-strain Still lingers, nor is ever stilled. FROM THE CLASS POEM OF 1890 THE star that at even Slips out of the hush Of the dim western heaven, Now stripped of its flush, Far off in the bleakness Stands sternly alone, And looks down on our weakness, Our laughter and moan. O star of the cheerless, That all through the night Shinest on with that fearless Imperious light 53 FROM THE CLASS POEM OF 1890 On the sad and the lonely Who know thee indeed, On the poor who know only The depth of their need, Having watched an existence Thou wilt shine on its tomb, O Silent Persistence, My spirit illume ! By the porphyry portals, Old Israel sings, The star-clad Immortals Stand wrapped in their wings. Around them the beauty Of heaven is shed, And the straight path of duty By nature they tread. 54 ARBUTUS But thou, in thy haunted Cold desert alone, Thy courage undaunted Thine own is thine own. The courage to gaze in The face of the night And all her dark maze in Thy face to keep bright. ARBUTUS THOU tiny prophecy in pink and white, That, ere the April rains are fully dried, Creepest between the dead leaves into sight, A fairy message from the underside 55 ARBUTUS Of this decay, to tell us what sweet things Shall in their season blossom and grow fair, And fling their morning perfume on the wings Of the soft winds that roam the summer air. I would that thou could'st teach me how to wake, Among the dead leaves of my passing days, Some flower of thought or deed for whose sweet sake I might seem nobler to mine inward gaze. OPHELIA SWEET Isabella's art was not like thine, Nor Beatrice's wit ; the dignity Of Henry's wifely queen was not in thee, Nor in thy soul did Portia's Avisdom shine ; Still less the fire of humbled Katherine ; Nor might thy saddened heart the gayety Of that bright spirit feel, who, calm and free, Made Arden's forests glow with warmth divine. For thee the suffering love of Juliet ; Miranda's modesty ; a gentle pride 57 THE LAMENT Like that which brav'd harsh Lear's imperious throne ; A generous heart like Hero's, to forget All wrongs ; the mildness of Othello's bride ; And a sweet purity that was all thine own! THE LAMENT I SAW thy white sail sinking in the sea, I saw the white gulls gliding down the sky And waves and shores reeled o'er me mistily, Come back to me, Beloved, or I die ! 58 THE LAMENT The gray mist rose and wrapped about me t there, Upon my heart its chill doth ever lie The shroud of joy, my grief and my de- spair, Come back to me. Beloved, or I die ! God giveth us the night to weep and pray And tears' upon my pillow ever lie For darkness covers all with thee away, Come back to me, Beloved, or I die ! My bud of life is drooping with a blight, For thou art gone, and desolate am I A lost bark plunging through eternal night, Come back to me, Beloved, or I die ! 59 SONG LADY, when at evening hour In thy love-hued, shadowy bower Thou dost pray, But a moment in the nest Of thy musing let me rest, If I may. There is little in my life That is noble often strife, But victory rare ; And the thought would help me lonely, I would cover it and only Know 'twas there. 60 A REVERIE THOU calm and sober moon aswing At anchor in the starry deep, Pour forth that palest gift of thine On gnarly oak, on ash and pine, Who rustle oft in restless sleep, When soft the sighing night-winds creep. Bend down thy glance upon the wave In streaming veil, where dancing ship May sail along thy genial track, And plow thy curling whiteness back ; Where dolphins brawn may flash and dip, And sea-birds, sadly crooning, sit. 61 MOUNTAIN FLOWER Where'er thou art, on land or sea, In rambles through black meadow-lands Or regions vast and cold and north, Where broods wan silence over earth, Fling cables white, from whiter hands, To bind me with their silver strands. MOUNTAIN FLOWER THE shredded mists fly o'er it where it peeps Through weary wastes of crumbling dull-gray stone, And chill winds beat upon it as it keeps Its silent watch alone. Red-limned upon bleak granite shows its face, 62 MOUNTAIN FLOWER Like some faint sunset spark from kind- lier skies, And so it glimmers on a little space, Then, uncomplaining, dies. Sweet smiling in the sunny vales below, Bloom dark wild roses, yet men heed them not, But thou, weak flower that dost not fear the snow, Art not so soon forgot. THERE'S ONE KEEPS WATCH SHE stood without the City wall, Her soft eyes dim with weeping, And tremblingly an entrance sought, But all the guards were sleeping. For the night is dark and the hour late And none keep watch at the wicket gate. She stood without the City wall. The long night rains, beginning, Swept through the naked, moaning trees, A host of terrors bringing. When storms are wild and waters deep Are there none keep watch while others sleep ? 64 FALL She stood without the City wall. Across the night rain falling, From out the opened wicket gate There came a sweet Voice calling. For though the night be dark and late, There's One keeps watch at the wicket gate. FALL THERE were roses in her hair Still wet with dew, And hovering there A flash of blue in her sun-kissed curls Was a little bird. Even as I looked it flew Swift as the breeze away, 65 FALL And the rose leaves, shriveled, in eddy- ing whirls Fell in her way. Nor speech, nor word She murmured, but as clouds of mist Fade slowly in the sun, So she, nor wist That mortal looked on her, as I had done. And ere it vanished, vision chaste and fair, The first light snowflake floated in the air. 66 TWILIGHT VOICES H&rvia, Tr6rvia vtij- virvb ddretpa. T&V ffli. EURIPIDES. HASTEN, O Night! ye queenly transcend- ent, Bearing sweet rest from the region of shade, Mounted on wings though dark yet re- splendent That woo to forgetfulness hillside and glade ! Cease thy dark flight a worn heart con- fesses The peace that it knows in thy silken caresses. 67 TWILIGHT VOICES Damp are thy garments and damp thy black tresses, But bright is thy crown with starlight inlaid. Soft be the breezes that play on the meadows, Tender the light of the stars in the sky ; Laid be the spirits whose shrouds are the shadows That darken the heart and that deaden the eye. Let me forget while the moments are fly- ing The discords of life that, in bitterness cry- ing, Tell us of loveliness suffering, dying, Tell us no tale but ends in a sigh. 68 TWILIGHT VOICES Far in the distance I hear the waves roll- ing On with the sound of the trampling sea ; Aloft from yon tower the death bells are tolling Stern admonitions to thee and to me. Rest there is none for the feet that grow weary In scaling the heights, and all nature, though cheery, Yet chants to herself a low miserere, Maybe a dirge for the souls that go free. Sleep ! let me rest till the gates that are golden Turn on the hinge of melodious sound ; Let my lone couch be the forest whose olden 69 TWILIGHT VOICES Trunks and gnarled arms keep the shadows around. We, like the oaks beneath deep mosses sleeping, No care shall disturb of busy winds creeping O'er my low couch, nor where they are heaping It high with the leaves that whirl o'er the ground. 70 FROM THE CLASS POEM OF 1889 As one who lies beneath an idle sail Within the shelter of some hollow shore, And hears without the ocean's sullen roar, Where billows toss their white caps in the gale ; Who ponders on some mediaeval tale, Or musing cons an ancient poem o'er, While, drifting on the tides that out- ward pour, He nears the main where tempest shocks prevail ; CHOICE So we : but ere we cut the line of foam While rhymes of yesterday still fill the soul With tenderness and memories of home, I feel the influences that control Our lives the shocks of conflict that enroll Us in the lists from which we may not roam. CHOICE LET yours be a day in the merry May When the world is new and flowers are gay, 'Neath sunny skies expend your sighs, On languishing maids with tender eyes, But give me a day when the sea is gray And the air is filled with the dashing spray, 72 EPITAPH IN FORM OF A BALLADE Where black rocks rise and the sand-bird cries I'd walk with her who has fearless eyes. THE EPITAPH IN FORM OF A BALLADE WHICH MASTER FRANgOIS VILLON MADE FOR HIMSELF AND FIVE OF HIS COM- PANIONS, EXPECTING TO BE HANGED ALONG WITH THEM NOR hate nor scorn shall be our meed to-day, Stretched black against the faint gray- golden sky, Heedless of all ungenerous ye may say, Helpless we hang, helpless to make reply. 73 EPITAPH IN FORM OF A BALLADE Rather in love and sorrow shall ye cry To Him that hung for all men on the tree, And crave, ere that ye also come to die, God, in His grace, forgive both us and thee. Not all may tread the road of right alway, Not all the primrose path of pleasure fly; The greater need then, brother man, to pray The greater wrong compassion to deny. Our joys are spent ; equal we all hang high ; All undeserving raise we now our plea, 74 EPITAPH IN FORM OF A BALLADE Whose dolorous death doth justice justify, God, in His grace, forgive both us and thee! And now the wind shall have us for his play, The driving rain shall blanch, the sun shall dry, The while in swinging chains aloft we sway, Grim warning to the lowly passerby ; But ye, that life and laughter glorify Ye, that to-day hold love and lands in fee Ye, that in pride, sorrow and death defy God, in His grace, forgive both us and thee ! 75 THE SOUL'S RECALL L'ENVOI Prince Christ, in this brief hour of death be nigh ! Thou that did'st live and die for such as we And ye, that Him again dost crucify, God, in His grace, forgive both us and thee! THE SOUL'S RECALL SOUL ! you have been far away Lotos-land and drowsy dreaming Never night nor dawn of day, But shadowy twilight-seeming. Time to measure flowers that fell, Rain to kiss in silent falling 76 THE SOUL'S RECALL Flowery fields of asphodel, Poppy-buds enthralling. The soul that feels the lotos-kiss Knoweth not to-morrow Nor ever glint of golden bliss Nor crimson stain of sorrow. Only gray of peace, unending Slumber-peace but far away Where your shadowy stream goes bending Soul ! it is the dawn of day ! 77 THE SCHOLAR HE sits, a scholar, in his garret room And listens to the tread of centuries, He reads a thousand books with sober eyes, And grapples with the stone before the tomb ; Night-music lingers in the evening gloom, Night-laughter rises to the burning skies, For him another song, " Arise ! Arise ! " Life may be weariness and death be doom. Men may not scoff, the fierce fires of the world Burn hotly with a searing mystery ; 78 THE FOOL IN LEAR What though he know not and his soul be hurled Down the dark cavern where he cannot see He writes To-morrow with a flaming hand, And waits for God to let him understand. THE FOOL IN LEAR I SEE brown leaves a-blowing. Sing all ! Sing all ! this merry lay. I see black cloud-streams flowing, And these, alack ! must end the play, For one shall sleep at the dawn of day, And one shall sleep at the eve, But I shall sleep at the burning noon. We three sweet sleep receive ! 79 SCHUBERT It's sleep that knows no waking, One long gloom-nap we're taking, And a poor Fool's heart is breaking : Sweet sleep receive ! SCHUBERT His life was short some thirty years or so Were all his span. But, oh, what change- ful years, What variance from merriment to tears This cheerful, struggling man must undergo ! 'Twere pity that his worth men would not know ; 'Tis hard ; yet left alone, he works, and rears 80 SCHUBERT Himself a name not soon forgot ; his fears Of failure spur him on ; 'tis better so. i My sweetheart sang for me the " Sere- nade " " Das Standchen," that impassioned song of love, And ever, as she softly sang and played, There seemed to come upon me from above From her pure soul but just this simple thought : " Franz Schubert's dead dead of a broken heart." 81 GOD'S WILL I KNOW, I know where violets blow Upon a sweet hillside, And very bashfully they grow And in the grasses hide It is the fairest field, I trow, In the whole world wide. One spring I saw two lassies go, Brown cheek and laughing eye, They swung their aprons to and fro, They filled them very high With violets then whispered low So strange, I wondered why. 82 EXHORTATION I know where violet tendrils creep And crumbled tombstones lie, The green churchyard is silence-deep ; The village folk go by, And lassies laugh and women weep, And God knows why. EXHORTATION SHE stands amid the daisies Shining white beneath the sun, Blowing, rippling, wanton as her hair, And the glancing of her eyes Laughs in sunshine as it flies. Whisper, winds ! My love is fair. By chance, she comes at morning Where the maples shade a path, 83 EXHORTATION Birds are piping, scolding, " Have a care ! " Though in stateliness disdaining Lo! a primrose is she feigning? Foolish birds ! My love is fair. The breakers toss the moonlight Far adown the gleaming sands ; Steely clouds are scudding over, where In two fearless love-lit eyes Swims a look that speech defies. Shout it, sea! My love is fair. 84 DOROTHY IN happy times and merry whiles This song might garland o'er with smiles The newborn love that cradled lies Within thine eyes : When far-off wedding bells achime Are touched ivitk magic wand, Arid life is at the crescent time, And all is fairy land, Then Song and Echo in my rhyme Go straying hand in hand. But if thy heart is turned from me, Then empty is my heart for thee, And this sad lay is wandering through : 35 IL BEL CANTO When lilting love-songs lose their grace, A nd jealousies arise, And steals a mist across the face, Where love a-gazing lies, O then are sobs in Echo's voice And tears within her eyes. IL BEL CANTO THE nightingale still sings in far Cathay, Still fairies dance around Titania fair, But lost, aye lost like dreams of yesterday, That song has vanished, bodiless as air. For who can chain the singing of the spheres ? Or tell to men what song the sirens sung? 86 ARAB LOVE SONG Or summon o'er the waste of weary years The trembling strains from Orpheus' lyre wrung ? ARAB LOVE SONG AWAKE ! awake ! the dawn is near, The stars have dimmed from out the sky, From mountain clefts the winds have slid, The moon hath drawn a silken lid Across the brightness of her eye, And I await thee. Oh, arise ! And shake the dream-dew from thine eyes, And smile as dreams do. I have crossed Hot sands and felt the mountain frost Since morning, all to see thy face, To feel thy breath upon my hair, DARK CLOUDS To kneel down at thy feet and there Forget all life and time and place. Sweet, Allah made the morning hour For thee and me. Thy ring-doves bill And nestle at thy window-sill, Cooing. Come forth, O desert flower, And breathe upon my tired eyes, Sweeter than flowers of Paradise In Eden's bloom. Arise ! arise ! DARK CLOUDS DARK clouds of rain and mist Are hanging in the skies ; A flower the sun had softly kissed, In drooping sadness dies. A breeze is rising mild, The clouded heaven clears ; 88 DARK CLOUDS And nature, like a little child, Is smiling through her tears. I would that I might wake From a strange dream of pain ! But memory's clouds will never break And give me peace again. Her soul was like a flower, Blossoming in her eyes. Death chose a dark, unguarded hour To seize that lovely prize. I live in speechless sorrow, To memory a slave, Asleep, awake, to-day, to-morrow, My heart is in her grave. 89 THE AURORA IN the frozen North, where half the year Is ruled by continuous night, There gleams a splendor beyond all ken ; Now too keen for the eyes of men, And now a nebulous light. Frozen and fettered the streamers rise, In an ordered and ominous row. The moon in winter is not more chill, Nor steel more hard, nor death more still, Than the Monarch who holds them so. But see ! they leap in fierce revolt, And struggle, and rage, and strain ; 90 THE AURORA The luminous streamers writhe and bound, And wound the air with a voiceless sound As they tug at their icy chain. But vain is the effort, and soon they rise In a ghastly, radiant ring. Their bonds are firm, and they may not forth, For the souls of men who have died in the North Are thrall to the Frozen King ! CASSANDRA MlDST mellow flutes and glad-voiced choristers Silent she stands. They heed not prayer nor prophecy of hers, Nor clasped imploring hands. Ah, none may hear, the God hath sealed their ears. Poor prophetess! They mock the futile misery of thy fears, Scoff at thy sharp distress. Oh, white, beseeching arms, and marvel- ous, 92 BALLADE OF PEACEFUL DEFEAT Reproachful eyes ! The story of your wrongs gleams infamous Through the dim centuries. BALLADE OF PEACEFUL DEFEAT " I am so old good-night, Babette " Austin Dob son. OUR day dawned bright; the primrose way Before us lay invitingly, And life seemed one long summer day, Beyond the day we could not see. I would that I could set thee free In sunny long ago, and yet The path has lost its charm for me, I am so old good-night, Babette. 93 BALLADE OF PEACEFUL DEFEAT The primrose faded into gray ; We lived our love and naught cared we, Nor thought to bid the moment stay, So sure its fellow seemed to be. Life is no more an ecstacy, For love is lost in vain regret ; Age grants us but tranquillity ; I am so old good-night, Babette. The sunny summer sped away And autumn's crimson brilliancy ; December follows hard on May, And rest replaces revelry. The fog drifts shoreward from the sea, Kissing the waving dune-grass wet, And Father Time demands his fee, I am so old good-night, Babette. 94 AFTERWHILE L'ENVOI Dear, once for us the skies were gay, And now, when wintry clouds are met, Old age its willing debt must pay. I am so old good-night, Babette. AFTERWHILE THERE was one I knew 'tis the mist of a dream, When the sunlight fell with a checkered gleam O'er the gray and the brown of the lichened wall And the haloed summer over all Lay droning drearily. 95 AFTERWHILE The wood thrush chirred to his mate on the hill, While beyond in the browning hay fields still The toilers labored wearily. But that was a day and a year ago, And where love is dead, time moves but- slow. Aye, that was a day and a year ago ! When the bluebird trilled in the garden bloom And the song in my heart was the lilt of June. Ah, where love is dead, time moves but slow And the task of the toiler is heavy with woe. 96 AFTERWHILE Yet the memory of one that I knew remains, Like blossoms crushed by the summer rains, Seen afar through a haze of tears. Aye, that was a day and a year ago ! The thrush yet sings to his mate on the hill, But the echo of love in my heart is still. Ah, where love is dead, time moves but slow And the task of the toiler is heavy with woe. For the wind weeps low under the eaves, And tosses and worries the broken leaves, While it sports with my love that is dead. 97 A LOST MEMORY LISTENING in the twilight, very long ago, To a sweet voice singing very soft and low. Was the song a ballad of a lady fair Saved from deadly peril by a bold corsair? Or a song of battle, and a flying foe? Nay, I have forgotten 'tis so long ago. Scarcely half remembered, more than half forgot, I can only tell you what the song was not. 98 A LOST MEMORY Memory unfaithful has not kept that strain, Heard once in the twilight never heard again. Every day brings twilight, but no twilight brings To my ear that music on its quiet wings. After autumn sunsets, in the dreamy light, When long summer evenings deepen into night, All that I am sure of, is that, long ago, Someone sang at twilight, very sweet and low. 99 LOVE'S BLINDNESS So it goes that love is blind, And they say he cannot see ; Search the traverse of the wind, Where an elf as sharp as he ? In the mesh of fairy hair There's a beauty that's as rare As the splendor of the sun, In the noonday of his run. In the langour of her eye There's a depth of heaven-blue, Like the zenith of the sky When the moon goes gliding through. 100 LOVE'S BLINDNESS In the beauty of her hair Dwells the eye of gallant love, While his fellow elves are sleeping, ,. f Not an elfin of them peeping ; In the brilliance of her glance, He will lead her in the dance, While his fellow elves are sleeping, Every elf the stillness keeping. Then when stirs nor wind nor willow Ere the sky betrays the dawn Love will rest her on her pillow, With a kiss and then he's gone. Then the laggard elves, a-trooping From their bowers of flowrets twined, Mark the eyes of love a-drooping, And they jeer him that he's blind. 101 DUSK AND DAWN Sp#T twilight shades, scarce darkness, scarcely day, Faint strains of music fading on the breeze, Ring-doves a-cooing where the willows play Lethean lullabys among the trees, And in the gathering gloom my lady dreams. Light clouds afloat upon a field of blue, A soaring lark's full-throated melody, A flower, new-opened, with the clinging dew On each frail petal quivering timorously, And sunbeams dancing, as my lady wakes. 102 FROM THE CLASS POEM OF 1896 DEEP in the meadow grass A rose was born, The cherished nursling of a summer morn ; Nor romping lad or lass, Nor priest nor swain, Who chanced along the winding meadow lane Espied its pale pure bloom, or ever knew How its fair petals, kissed by sun and dew, Had opened rathe, and at the bending blue O'erhead had smiled E'en as a sleeping child, 103 FROM THE CLASS POEM OF 1896 Touched by soft mother-lips at dawn Smiles as it wakens, happy to be drawn Out of the land where sweet dream-fan- cies be Into a far more sweet reality. In lowly beauty day by day The wee rose bloomed, then drooped and passed away ; Yet was its gentle life not lost on earth, Though all unmarked its dying and its birth,- For once a wild bird, clinging to its spray, Was gladdened by the flower, And all one joyous hour Outpoured its little heart unto the skies In ecstasy of song ; And far away, 104 OUT OF THE NIGHT Plodding the dusty road along, With doubting, downcast eyes, Was one who heard The rapturous carol of the bird, And drank its meaning deep into his heart, And wist not that a rose had played its part. OUT OF THE NIGHT IF in the night there comes a bird That on your window beats its wings, As once the Raven's wings were heard, You question not what song it sings Before the shutters open free. Perhaps a raven, dark of race ; Enough it wanders homelessly And seeks the comfort of your face. 105 MARCH And will you ask from whence I come Who now have drifted to your feet, From what dark place or pleasant home, And by what ways have traveled, sweet ? Perhaps I've buried in the earth Some secret sins and hidden fears, For, after all, a heart is worth Only the tenderness it bears. MARCH SUMMER, banished far away, Sat alone and wept one day, Gone the glow upon her cheek, Rent her garments, tresses torn, Disappointed and forlorn, Sobbed she there and did not speak. 1 06 VESPER SONG But warm-hearted Auster, stirred By the sobbing that he heard, Roused the winds ; with might and main Battled they by day and night ; Boreas was put to flight, Summer came to earth again. VESPER SONG THE sun is dead in the hills And the moon is born of the sea, The flushed east glows a paling rose And the dark falls over me Song of the wailing twilight breeze, Carry me where you go Out through the swaying poplar trees All in a silver row, 107 VESPER SONG Sing me a gentle slumber song In cadence low. The moon is dead in the sky And the sun is born of the sea, All night long I have dreamed the song That the night wind brought to me Sun of a thousand gleaming eyes Sparkling above the wave, Burning the racing moon that tries Hide in her western grave, Burn in my heart the vesper song You grudging gave. 108 MARGARET WHEN she came to us, all this earth Seemed steeped in Springtime bliss, May donned a garb of flowers and mirth, And April left a sunny kiss To greet her when she came. The flowers seemed fairer where she walked, And when the song birds heard Her rippling laughter, light as air, They sang sweet songs, that ne'er had stirred Our hearts until she came. 109 A VESTAL Her speech was music, and her heart Was pure as morning dew ; Her very footfall on the stair Made melody. We never knew Such peace until she came. A VESTAL SHE muses while the sunbeams creep In slanting piers of light, She muses when the shadows creep About the fire at night. Troops of to-morrows cross her thought In happy Junes and Mays, And ghosts of dim Septembers fraught With kindly yesterdays. no QUEST US A MORIS Hers is the Vestal's waiting air, The silence sweet and weird, More wisdom nestles in her hair Than crouched in Nestor's beard. And all her terms of nights and days The world's first dreamings fill, She moves among forgotten ways, Unvisited and still. QUESTUS AMORIS 'TWERE better in some soulless solitude To wake the taunting echoes' mirthless jeer, Than that my song should be again renewed To one who will not hear. in QUEST US A MORIS 'Twere better, kneeling there, to let the skies With their vast light take the last beam from me Than let Love look its yearnings thro* my eyes To one who will not see. 'Twere better that the tears of voiceless pain Should in the cooling snow their warmth conceal. Nor more nor less than mist of summer rain To one who will not feel. 'Twere better that the heart had never learned To raze all else and place her throne above. 112 WITH PASSING YEARS Heart, life, and soul an offering vainly burned To one who will not love. WITH PASSING YEARS I I LOVED thee as a child, and chased Thy oft-delaying flight, with breathless glee, Through laurels and down lilac lanes from which I shook the dew as I pursued and thou did'st flee. It was thy gold, O butterfly, That caught the childish fancy of my eye, But when within my hands thy powdered gold fell off, WITH PASSING YEARS I cast thee by to weep, And then again in dreams I'd chase thee in my sleep. II I love thee still and in a passive way I sit and watch thy full content to sip The brightly sparkling nectars that the shades Of night have brewed upon the languid lily's lip. I see thy dalliance, butterfly, That makes the rose to blush a deeper dye ; I watch thee chase thy shadow in the tulips' bed In quiet summer hours ; I laugh, and thou art lost among some sweeter flowers. 114 THE WAITING YEAR TWICE lingers on her way the fleeting year : In April first the darksome winter past She smiles through happy tears that follow fast, And prescient of the Maytime loitering near, She waits in listening mood, perchance to hear Some faint heraldic note of wandering bird, "5 THE WAITING YEAR Some whispered hint, some confidential word, Of pregnance, in bare boughs and mead- ows sere. Anon she lingers in the arms of Death, Shorn of her glory, yet withal content To feel upon her cheek his chilling breath ; Her birds and blossoms gone, she too must go. 'Neath gray November skies, with head low-bent, She waits the benediction of the snow. 116 SONG CRADLE'S quiet, Sing low, The stars have a dreamy glow, From under their shadowy veil they peep ; Blue eyes, they are laughing at you asleep. Sing low. Peace of the night, Come down, The breeze is cool in the town, The fire-flies light in the murksome shade The dream-towers that the fairies made. Come down. 117 THE BELL Cradle's quiet, Stillstill, A light glows over the hill, And the leaves that danced since the rest- ful noon Are asleep, are asleep in the shine of the moon. Still still. THE BELL IN my ear there sorrows a mournful bell- Hush, 'tis the throstle's art ! The skies are blue, and the breezes swell But the shadows start, And slow as the pulse of a fear-sick heart Is the knell ! 118 SONG It tolls and it tolls, for a passing chime ; Hush, 'tis the zephyr's breath ! The breezes blow, and the blossoms climb But the slow voice saith, Follow ! for now is the hour of death, It is time ! SONG WHAT must be must be, little one, The dark night follow the day, And the ebbing tide to the seaward glide Across the moonlit bay. What must be must be, little one, The winter follow the fall, And the piying wind an entrance find Through the chinks of the cottage wall. 119 A WATER-LILY What must be must be, little one, The brown hair turn to gray, And the soul like the light of the early night Slip gently far away. A WATER-LILY ONE soft May night a wandering star bent down And kissed its image in the gloomy lake, And with the morn there rose a golden crown, Pearl-strewn with dewdrops for the lost star's sake. 120 SONG WHEN chimney tops are capped with snow And the gray sun his face doth hide And lassies' cheeks do sweetly glow And tinkling sleigh-bells echo wide, Old Snook, from chilling cold or gale Well-sheltered, sips his cheerful ale. When winter trees stand on the hill, White-robed beneath the midnight moon, And the clear air is crisp and still, Sharp-whistled rings the traveler's tune, Old Snook snores merrily away, And dreams of cheer to-morrow day, Of fireside cheer to-morrow day. 121 TRANSMIGRATION THE shadows lay Stretched on the rank-grown grass And felt the day With noiseless footfall pass Into the dark. So still she went, Her feathery falling tread, In passing, bent Scarcely the daisy's head, White in her path. Her robe just swept Breeze-like the unshorn field, And where she stepped 122 TRANSMIGRA TION The nodding grasses yield Drowsy farewell. Think you she hied, Enamored of the Sun, Where his flush dyed With red th' horizon's dun, To his embrace ? From star to star, Through weary aeons borne, She wends afar, To kiss each waking morn In a new world. Sometime will cease Her weary round, and she Will be at peace In the immensity Where days are not. 123 THE NORNS AFAR in the land of the midnight sun, Where the great lights flash o'er a frozen sea, Forever they sit until time is done, The merciless Norns, the sisters three. And one is young and fair of face, And ever she sings as she spins away, With careless fingers and maiden grace, The threads of life that begin to-day. And one is fair as a full-blown flower That has felt the warmth of the summer sun. 124 THE NORNS With roses or thorns, each passing hour, She decks the threads that the first has spun. But the third is haggard and old and sere, With ashen lips and hopeless eyes, Yet sharp on the thread, as it draweth near, She snaps her shears like an iron vise. Now the first is sweet as a day in spring, And the second fair as a summer morn, But the sweetest gift that the sisters bring, Men say, are the shears of the last gray Norn. 125 RACHAEL AT RAMA SOMETIMES love's flood tide will flow back again, The bloom of life depart. Sometimes the eyes we love grow dull., and then God breaks the heart. Awake the pain throbs which we thought to lull Before the day was done, And saddened steps, slow-paced and sorrowful, Wend wandering on. 126 PENELOPE God's misty mantle clasps us in the fold, In a dim, lonely place ; We lift sad eyes afar and there behold The great, sweet Tace. PENELOPE ACROSS the dim and gray Ithacan sea Thine eyes, unwearied, gleam upon us still ; The gods, to show to men their sover- eign will, Take here and there a soul-type, such as thee, Not only for Ulysses, but for me. Deep in the darkened night, with patient skill, . 127 PENELOPE Weaving, slowly unweaving, didst thou fill Thy woof with deeds that gleam eternally, Fairer than all the shapes of lotos-dream- ing. How well Ulysses, with temptations by, Saw that unending life to him were vain, If thou were not beside him, wisely deem- ing For a brave soul 'twere better far to die In Right than live in an immortal shame. 128 TRUE DRAKE AND GENTLEMAN JOCEYLIN TRUE DRAKE and Gentleman Joceylin Ha' grippit each a hand And lookit wi' the broad deep love O* two strong men that understand. " The years may be long and sad, Drake, Wi' grim death running thro', But swear you will love me as true, Drake, As ever I love you." " Now do I swear by God, Joceylin, And by our good Lord's birth, I'll love you deeper and truer, Joceylin, Than any man upon this earth." 129 DRAKE AND JOCE YLIN Gentleman Joceylin 's bowed his head And gone alone apart. And he has found two sailor men And opened out his heart. " You shall be my first mate, Jock, And wear a coat o' pride, And you shall be my second, Frank, Wi' a bright brand at your side. " And ye shall ha' a pot o' gold To spend on Rose and May, To buy them gowns an' gilliflowers Upon the wedding day. " And ye shall ha' broad bloomy lands, Wi' castles on a hill, When ye shall show me Captain Drake All cold and stark and still." 130 DRAKE AND JOCEYLIN It is the little cabin boy That's heard this wicked talk, And he is gone to Captain Drake Where he does scheme and walk. And it's " Captain Drake, my Captain Drake, His blood be on his head, I overhearit Joceylin, And this is what he said : " ' Now ye shall ha' broad bloomy lands, Wi' castles on a hill, When ye shall show me Captain Drake All cold and stark and still.' " True Drake has called his good crew aft And looked them in the eye, '3* DRAKE AND JOCE YLIN~ " There be three men o' you," quo* he, " As fain would see me die." Ye might ha' heard the sea-fish swim When Jock uprist and spake, " It is na' I, but Joceylin, For truth, my Captain Drake." Ye might ha' heard the holt rats squeak When Frank uprist and spake, " It is na' I, but Joceylin, For truth, my Captain Drake." True Drake has ta'en a hempin rope And made a knot therein, And he has twined it round the neck O' his friend Joceylin, And he has hangit him to the yard To hang till he is dead. '3* DRAKE AND JOCE YLIN " Pray for his soul," then True Drake cried ; " His blood is on his head ! " True Drake has ta'en two hempin ropes And made two knots therein, And he has hangit Frank and Jock On either side o' Joceylin. " All that ye did in duty true It shall be writ unto the end, But Christ ha* mercy on your souls That ha' betrayed my dearest friend." True Drake has ta'en a hard tarred rope (I wot it was twinit cruel thin), And he has whippit the cabin boy That overhearit Joceylin. DRAKE AND JOCEYLIN They ha' taken Joceylin from the yard And laid him in his place, And wrappit him wi' winding sheets Save only his fair face. True Drake has droppit on his knee And taken Joceylin's two hands And lookit on him wi' the love Of a strong man that understands. " Now do I swear by God, Joceylin, And by our Right Lord's birth, I love you deeper and truer, Joceylin, Than any man upon this earth." True Drake has crossed the two limp hands Upon the cold dead breast, And he has kissit Joceylin And prayed his soul to rest. A THRENODY " Stand by to lay him in the sea, My guns shall mark him to his place, Haul down yon flag to half the mast . . . Now cover my friend's face." A THRENODY THE dead, they say, are well, whether there be A recompense to them a hundred fold, For life and toil, of happiness untold, Or dreamless sleep into eternity. I would not, then, recall thee selfishly To living anguish, long endured of old : Though well I know, when lost love's knell was tolled, The feet of night and death were tramp- ling me ; THRENOD Y But knowing that thou, weary, hast found peace, Resigned am I to grieving. Let the rage Of life the merry, reckless world en- gage ; My days are left forlorn, like forest trees Robbed by the wintry wrath of foliage, To harp the wild wind's homeless har- monies. RUBAlYAT I THE quiet Land of Sleep lies far away Beyond the misty Portals of the Day, Not all the silent journey fare at will, Tho' none the drowsy Porter needs must pay. II There rise the unfathomed springs of sweet Surprise. Where What we^ Know, at Naishdpur, outvies In wonder the Unknown and yet is there Discerned thro* all the strangeness of its guise. RUBAtYAT III And there, transformed by alchemy of night, The ever-baffling puzzles of the light, The weary tangles in the Thread of Life, Lie all unravel'd to our clearer sight. IV But what, O Said, if this land of Youth And sweet Delight be yet the land of Truth ? Do we that bear the burden of the noon Bear it but vainly, striving to our ruth ? Yet may we trust, tho* long deferred our quest And far away the Islands of the Blest, 138 RUBAfYAT The unfolded roll of Fate to read at last, And, trusting this, be careless of the rest. VI For Love that guards us Here shall guide us There And still shall guide beyond the Portals, where, When the great Riddle is at last re- solv'd, Shall break at even's close a Dawn more fair. 139 AT EVEN OVER the fields the sunset glows, Pale and amber, pink and rose, The steepled clock strikes solemnly, Two times three, two times three. The daytime hum of the town is still, The gleaners come from the russet hill, The dark steals into the dusky skies, Like sleepy light in children's eyes. I dream and hear the church-bell ring, With a never-varying solemn swing, 140 AT EVEN Every night in the seasons four, Till the ivy covers the creaking door, Till the beams of the old spire crumble down, And the churchyard tombstones turn to brown, Wearily, slowly, peacefully, Two times three, two times tnree. AN INTERLUDE THE wood-thrush sings no more no more. The coulee brook runs slow Through choking leaves, and the forest floor Is red as a sunset glow, And with the still frost in the air Hangs melancholy everywhere. The glory of November days ! The forest a chameleon is, From green it blazes red, then fades To browns and yellows, last to grays, And dies in mournful dust-drab shades. 142 AN INTERLUDE The wood-thrush sings no more no more, The far-stretched forest slowly dies, The ripple of the breeze comes through As fall the dead leaves one and two. Long since away the wood-thrush flew. The glory of November days! The clear-voiced west wind sings aloud Till vanishes the soft gray haze And comes the clinging first snow shroud. TENDER AND COOL IS THE NIGHT TENDER and cool is the night, And the day is sweet, But the sweetest is where the light And the darkness meet. Sweet is the man's glad day And the maiden's dream, But sweetest the joined way, Love's votaries deem. 144 CRADLE SONG SOFT blue eyes and curly head, Even elves have gone to bed, And the sand-man tiptoes down Starry steps of dreamy-town ; He can catch you if he tries, Curly head and soft blue eyes. Somber night with spectral pall Sinks upon the ivied wall, Day hath found her western grave, Shadowy branches weirdly wave, Deep beyond the drowsy rill Sings the lonesome whippoorwill. SLEEP Pealing, pealing, chimes come stealing Through the air with slumber-feeling. Tis some fairy twilight lyre, 'Tis the vesper in the spire, 'Tis the music stealing down Star-steps of Oblivion-Town. SLEEP DOWN through the mist of half -forgotten things Tired spirits sink beneath night's slum- berous sea And, lapped in dream-waves, hear soft murmurings Of Life's blest prelude to Eternity. 146 VILLANELLE IN my castle in Spain There are treasures unseen Ah, that dreams were not vain ' Great pomp I maintain, And the State is serene In my castle in Spain. More blissful my reign Than the Caesars', I ween : Ah, that dreams were not vain i When my fancy is fain, There is revelry keen In my castle in Spain. 147 BLOCK ISLAND But if one guest would deign To be oftener seen (Ah, that dreams were not vain !) Is there need to explain ? Who, then, should be queen In my castle in Spain ? Ah, that dreams were not vain ! BLOCK ISLAND To sleep invites the warm bright air In shadeless hollows resting, where The chirping crickets move among Red, drooping clover heads upsprung From plots of green that slumber there. 148 BLOCK ISLAND Outside, the sea is sparkling fair, With ripples idly beating, ere Upon the sand in silence flung To sleep. Now stirs a lazy breeze, to bear Still heavier summons to repair To porches, and in hammocks hung Hear naught but rustling grasses swung Till fallen, free from any care, To sleep. 149 THE CYNIC HE is not like the other boys Who play Love's game of Hood-man Blind. While others draw their world-sweet toys, A little hearse he drags behind. A DIRGE Where my grave lies wide and white. White and wide, Will she come and weep to-night f When the somber-skirted winds Surge across the snow, Clasp me in their flowing garments, Pass his grave and sweep away and go, A DIRGE I will kneel and weep and weep Through his dreaming and his sleep Till my grief is told, And the sorrow in my heart Numb with frost and cold. / would lie so peacefully Could she sorrow over me. Where my grave lies wide and white, White and wide. Will she come and weep to-night ? When the spring steals over him, Lurks in leaf and bud, And the balmy winds float by, And their music creeps into my blood, I will soothe him with my sighs Mixed with moaning melodies, A DIRGE That his soul may rest ; I will smother all the pain Deep within my breast. Where the shadow covers me From the headstone tall and white, White and tall, While she come and weep to-night ? When the leaves whirl over him, And the skies are gray, And the sobbing winds go by To and fro where my lost love done lay, I will cover the last embers Of the joy that youth remembers, I will fold him there In the bosom of my sorrow And the heart of my despair. MOON- WINE Where the moon is cold and bright And my grave lies wide and white, White and wide, Will she come and weep to-night ? MOON-WINE WHO knows what the moon discovers By wizard wood and stream ? How many slow night-rovers Pass through her shade and gleam ? How many silent lovers Look up in her face and dream ? But if they would only listen And watch what the glow-worms do, That out of the leaves new risen Flicker the forest through, MOON- WINE They might learn why the moonlight's glisten Makes faded love seem true. For wherever the glow-worm, blinking, Comes to a lost moonbeam, He shows six goblins drinking, Their lips in the slender stream. But I never have seen them. I'm thinking It may be a witch-wife's dream. THE SONG OF THE SAILOR'S SON IN the valleys, on the hills, I can hear the deep sea sing ; By the little meadow rills I can feel the spin-drift sting. I can see the leaden ocean, I can taste the bitter brine, I can balance to the motion Through this heritage of mine. Know : I am my father's son, And a sailorman was he, So my life is just begun When I shall put out to sea. '55 SONG FROM "PHOCION AND CHLORIS " Phocion : Now while brown doves are brooding in your eyes Give me your lute and listen while I sing. (Sings.) Flower of the rose, Open thy petals and the dew disclose Caught from the morning ! Ah ! hide not too long Thy silken folds among, In crimson splendor, Thy nestling tender ! 156 " PHOCION AND CHLOR1S" Open, for love and light are fair, The golden glories of Apollo's hair Stream on the dotted leas And on the midmost purple of the seas. Chloris : O dim sea ! Haunt of the white pearl Where the corals curl Their crystal edges dreamingly ! Thou whose children wear Inwoven in their hair A light that draws the sailors down the wet ways of despair ! In whose green, silken glisten The sea-nymphs pause and listen And the sea-monsters lift their heads and stare ! DRINKING TEA No water-child am I, But an earth-maiden who must love and die * * * # # * Ah ! see, my music's tangled in the strings. You should not kiss me till the song was done. DRINKING TEA CLAUDE and Mabel drinking tea, And the cat, too ; that made three. In the twilight, pensively, " Claude," said Mabel, half in jest, " Which of us is happiest ? " " Faith," said Claude, " you know, my dear, I am happy, being here ; 158 DRINKING TEA " You are happy, I construe, Simply because you are you." So they smiled, well pleased thereat, Let the problem rest at that, But they quite forgot the cat. ENVOY TO SIDNEY ROBINSON KENNEDY The golden days that will not come again : Battell rings cut its call, yet I remain ; Your fire is whitening fast, as on the sill I knock my ashes out and hear the chill, Unending fall of the New Haven rain Beat noisily against your window pane. We heed it not : our castles are in Spain, And dreams of conquest worth the winning fill The golden days. They come not back to us ; that happy train Of dreams has vanished with their dear de- mesne, Yet have they left their benison,for still The selfsame sympathy for good or ill Is ours to-day, altho' we seek in vain The golden days. 160 863732 THE UNIVERSITY OF CALIFORNIA LIBRARY