A Drift 
 of Song 
 by 
 Cherries 
 
 Bla.nderv
 
 LIBRARY 
 
 UNIVERSITY OF 
 CMtFORNJA 
 
 SAN CHECO 
 
 J 
 
 ei^6 .
 
 IHE 
 
 9f MUFOftNM, SAN 
 JilLA. CALIfORNW 
 
 presented to the 
 
 LIBRARY 
 UNIVERSITY OF CALIFORNIA SAN DIEGO 
 
 by 
 
 FRIENDS OF THE LIBRARY 
 
 MR. JOHN C. ROSE 
 
 donor
 
 A Drift of Song 
 
 by 
 
 Charles G. Bla.ndr\ 
 Author of 
 
 A Vewllcy Mvise," "Orvnvr Resvirvg," Etc. 
 
 E vanston 
 
 WILLIAM S. LORD 
 J902
 
 Copyright, 1901, by 
 WILLIAM S. LORD
 
 c.
 
 Petals, and grasses, and down of the thistle, 
 And wastrel weeds from the hills of Song; 
 Blown hither (with many a merry whistle) 
 By the winds, to the winds they belong.
 
 Contents 
 
 The Unseen Crown Page 13 
 
 Homeward 14 
 
 When This Old Heart Was Young 16 
 
 The Unchained Sea 17 
 
 Morning Song 18 
 
 Plea of the Poets 20 
 
 It s Ho! For The Swelling Bud 22 
 
 The Fountain of Tears 23 
 
 With Psyche I Went Maying 25 
 
 Where Lethe Flows 26 
 
 After Many Days 27 
 
 When First I Saw Thy Dimples, Sweet 29 
 
 Outlook - 30 
 
 Lotus 32 
 
 The Highway of Freedom 33 
 
 Forget Me. Time 38 
 
 A Song of Faith 39 
 
 The Charioteer 40 
 
 Love in Love 41 
 
 The Wife 43
 
 To Mirth 44 
 
 At Last - 47 
 
 Temples 48 
 
 Life 49 
 
 A Singer 49 
 
 Quatrains - 50 
 
 Philosophers - 53 
 
 Growth 54 
 
 Octaves 55 
 
 Finis: His Song 59
 
 A Drift of Song 
 
 THE UNSEEN CROWN 
 
 |F sharpest thorns I wove a crown 
 
 And threw away each fragrant leaf, 
 
 "When on his brow this settles down," 
 I said, "oh, great his grief." 
 
 I hung it in my chamber where, 
 
 When it were needed, I could find, 
 
 "Mine enemy this thing shall wear." 
 I said, for I was blind. 
 
 He came at last; I took my thorns 
 
 And crowned him with a bitter vow, 
 
 When, lo! as on fair summer morns 
 They blossomed on his brow.
 
 HOMEWARD 
 
 |HE leaves are falling from the trees. 
 
 The brown grass shivers in the breeze, 
 The robin hurries down the wold. 
 All save his valiant heart acold; 
 The year is growing old. 
 The brook hath not so gay a song 
 As once it had, but moves along 
 As it were haunted, more and more, 
 As though its music, nearly o er. 
 Proclaimed the nearby day 
 When it must put all mirth away. 
 Tis shrunken in its banks, once green 
 With happy sheen; 
 But now along its margins lean 
 The ghostly river reeds that sigh 
 Like human waifs, when winds go by. 
 The sun from his old haunts is gone. 
 And his sweet smile withdrawn; 
 There is a sadness in the sky 
 That seems to say, All things must die; 
 All glory and all song 
 To Death belong.
 
 Snugly I wrap me as I go, 
 
 Yet feel within my veins the snow, 
 
 And, feeling it, serenely know 
 
 And bow to time s behest: 
 
 All hearts must rest. 
 
 Homeward I take my lonesome way. 
 
 Night follows fast; the little day 
 
 A moment flickers then departs: 
 
 A great wind rises full of darts 
 
 For all save armored hearts. 
 
 Faint through the shadows comes a voice; 
 
 Fear not, but rather, heart, rejoice, 
 
 Man hath his seasons as the year; 
 
 The outworn blossoms disappear; 
 
 They can but dream of harvest time, 
 
 As thou in rhyme 
 
 Dost sadly dream 
 
 Beside this stream. 
 
 And yet, in falling, well they know 
 
 (These sweet forerunners of the wain. 
 
 High-piled with fruits and grain) 
 
 The Power that bade them bud and blow 
 
 For higher reasons lays them low.
 
 WHEN THIS OLD HEART WAS YOUNG 
 
 HEN this old heart was young, my dear. 
 
 Twas waxen to thy smile. 
 And throbbed with joy or beat with pain, 
 
 As thou dids t choose the while. 
 But now, alas, since thou art gone. 
 
 It only heaves with grief, 
 As in some late autumnal storm 
 
 Is tossed the faded leaf. 
 
 And I can never hope for spring. 
 
 But, as I fog along 
 Find more of winter in my path 
 
 And less of bloom and song. 
 Ah. well-a-day, tis nature s way 
 
 To mar the brow of youth 
 And mingle with the wine of joy 
 
 The rue of darker truth. 
 
 Perchance, since hearts age not, my dear, 
 
 When I no more am seen, 
 The heart of me may fly to thee 
 Through any space between. 
 
 16
 
 And I may feel thy true heart heal 
 The hunger of mine own. 
 
 In hope s unshadowed kingdom, dear, 
 When this old life is flown. 
 
 THE UNCHAINED SEA 
 
 HIS said that once the unchained sea 
 Sung not so sad a song, 
 
 But, with a voice of hope and joy. 
 Ran his far coasts along. 
 
 But when he saw how time and change 
 Upon his borders smote 
 
 His laughter died, and in its place 
 Was heard a mournful note. 
 
 And all his solemn shores have grown 
 
 As laughterless as he 
 As day by day has grown the heart 
 
 In this old breast of me.
 
 MORNING SONG 
 
 j|H, welcome. Morn, and all thy sweets: 
 Sweet buds that bloom, sweet birds that sing, 
 Sweet winds that blow. 
 Sweet streams that flow. 
 Sweet light that falls o er everything 
 And heaps with joy these meadows so. 
 How sweet it is to walk the fields. 
 With heart that throbs. with soul that bounds. 
 While unseen hands 
 In lyric lands 
 
 Touch airy lyres, whose mystic sounds 
 Alone the listening spirit understands. 
 Ye bards that in high ether dwell, 
 
 Ye km of Israfel, 
 
 Ye lords of Morn who sweetly swell 
 The countless choir 
 Of the divine. 
 
 Accept this altar, and with fire 
 Consume the grosser part of me and mine, 
 That I may be 
 Anear to ye 
 Who are the life and dream of Morn, 
 
 18
 
 Sweet invisibilities of light 
 Ye are the angels that do urge 
 
 The soul to soar, 
 
 As forth ye pour 
 Your music over heaven s verge. 
 
 Me from myself unchain: 
 
 Into your gold domain 
 Of subtle essence let me enter, pray, 
 To roam forever with the Day, 
 
 Clothed in the gleam 
 
 Of his pure stream 
 And singing his glad songs for aye.
 
 PLEA OF THE POETS 
 
 KERS of song did you say ? 
 
 Finders of songs, be it told; 
 The music we fashion today 
 Is centuries old. 
 
 Only we look and we see, 
 
 Only we hear and we sing: 
 Only we find in the tree 
 
 And we find in the spring 
 
 The beautiful thing. 
 
 Dreamers they call us of earth. 
 
 Poets they name us, and smile 
 
 Thinking that nothing of worth 
 
 Comes from our dreaming the while. 
 
 Laughing, we fashion our reeds; 
 
 Musing, we go our own ways, 
 Singing of glorious deeds. 
 
 Singing ill beauties praise 
 
 In musical phrase. 
 
 20
 
 Nothing we ask but to sing, 
 
 Nothing we ask for the song, 
 
 Only to be of the spring 
 
 As any bird may belong. 
 
 Given this, and we ask not 
 
 Anything purchased with gold, 
 
 Given this, and we task not 
 Any measures you hold. 
 
 Yea, remember forget us; 
 
 (Fame is a bubble that breaks), 
 Only we pray you to let us 
 
 Gladden some souls for their sakes, 
 Filling their spirits with song. 
 
 Till the burdens they bear 
 
 And the crowns that they wear 
 Grow lighter, or they grow strong. 
 Hearing our song. 
 
 21
 
 IT S HO! FOR THE SWELLING BUD 
 
 [T S HO ! for the swelling bud. 
 And ho! for the glossy leaf: 
 It s ho ! for the green, green wood 
 That drowns a world of grief. 
 
 I said to my soul. Be gay. be gay !" 
 I said to my heart, "Rejoice," 
 
 I rallied Woe and bade him go. 
 
 And laughed with a merry voice. 
 
 I laughed ho ! ho !" as I danced with you 
 All around the happy tree. 
 
 And sweet , sweet, sweet the moments flew, 
 As flies the honey bee. 
 
 I said to my soul. "Rejoice, rejoice !" 
 I said to my heart, "Be glad !" 
 
 I laughed with a merry, merry voice. 
 For I was only a lad. 
 
 22
 
 THE FOUNTAIN OF TEARS 
 
 INTO the fountain of our tors 
 Both Joy and Sorrow dip their jars. 
 And often for replenishment 
 They come and go by different paths, 
 Yet never at the well they meet. 
 One maid is fair and one is dark; 
 One hath a voice like morning s lark. 
 Sings on her way and dallies long 
 To pluck at flowers or mend her song; 
 The other, silent, minds her task. 
 Looks on the ground and picks her steps 
 To steady well her burdened head. 
 The tears that fill the jar she bears 
 Are leaden drops, while those that brim 
 The jar of Joy are light as down 
 Blown from the cotton trees in spring 
 High up into the windy heaven. 
 
 Both live within the near-by heart: 
 By separate doors they go and come; 
 And thinnest wall keeps them apart. 
 And, sometimes, there wan Sorrow hears
 
 The laugh of Joy melt in her ears. 
 
 Like some faint dream of long ago: 
 
 And, sometimes, too, when Joy doth muse, 
 
 She hears the echo of a sigh 
 
 The glamour of her chamber fill, 
 
 As some lone wind about a hill 
 
 That lifts a leaf and then is still. 
 
 So dwell they in the human breast 
 Till death breaks down the wall between 
 And drives them hence. Together, they 
 Co forth into another day. 
 And are no more in all the world. 
 
 BURST the grape of folly. 
 
 And found it melancholy: 
 I burst the grape of fame. 
 And found it much the same. 
 Then wisdom sweet I tasted: 
 Alas ! with life so wasted. 
 And, oh, so nearly through. 
 I found that bitter, too.
 
 WITH PSYCHE I WENT MAYING 
 
 |ITH Psyche I went Maying; 
 
 We left the Heart behind: 
 We left the boy a-playmg 
 
 With Love the boy that s blind. 
 
 Through fields both fair and sunny 
 We roamed i-many hours; 
 
 The bees were swift for honey. 
 Among a thousand flowers. 
 
 The birds were gayly singing, 
 
 The brooks were mad with joy. 
 
 Said Psyche, to me clinging: 
 
 "We should have brought the boy." 
 
 A tear was on her lashes, 
 
 Her lips were quivering: 
 Her wit, devoid of flashes. 
 
 Drooped like a broken wing. 
 
 Said I to Psyche, sighing: 
 "Although it is the May. 
 
 To me the blossoms, flying. 
 
 Seem flakes of snow, today."
 
 "Let us return. Hereafter, 
 
 We ll leave no joy behind: 
 
 We ll take the Heart, for laughter, 
 
 We ll take the boy that s blind." 
 
 WHERE LETHE FLOWS 
 
 Lethe flows, no sound you hear; 
 Cray silence rules both far and near: 
 So quietly the waters glide. 
 No lotus wakes upon the tide. 
 Nor quivers any grassy spetr. 
 
 Black poppies, in the twilight drear 
 Of that lone land, strange beauty rear 
 And weave a drowsy tangle wide. 
 Where Lethe flows. 
 
 Sad, noiseless ghosts betimes appear, 
 Step down into the stream with fear, 
 And, sinking there, no more abide: 
 As though a hope had bloomed and died 
 Upon the bosom of a tear 
 Where Lethe flows. 
 
 26
 
 AFTER MANY DAYS 
 
 JJE S sixty-nine if he s a day 
 
 The advertising man; 
 He s leaner than a hemlock rail, 
 
 And works each hour he can; 
 And where he sleeps he s "Number ten. 
 And otherwhere is "Dan." 
 
 His hair is gray and very thin, 
 His cheeks are ashen, too; 
 
 His eyes are embers of old fires, 
 And once, I think, were blue: 
 
 His coat is such a faded thing 
 I doubt twas ever new. 
 
 His step is such a feeble one 
 I wonder how he stands; 
 
 The sign he carries is so large, 
 So ghostly are his hands, 
 
 I wonder why he does not fall 
 
 And pay what death demands. 
 
 In rain or shine he marches on 
 Like shadows in a dream; 
 He does not heed the passer-by 
 
 27
 
 Or they like phantoms item: 
 He thinks of hopes that long ago 
 Were swallowed in the stream. 
 
 Ah, there he comes, and you shall see 
 
 The sorry man I sing. 
 What s that you say ? You know him well ? 
 
 That poor decrepit thing ? 
 Your color bearer in the war. 
 
 And nobler than a king? 
 
 "Yes, yes, twas he when once men fell 
 
 Likes leaves before a blast, 
 And our small band had turned and fled. 
 
 That he stood firm and fast 
 Advanced the flag in that wild hell 
 
 And saved the day at last. 
 
 "He carries now that banner old 
 
 In that great painted sign. 
 But he shall carry it no more. 
 
 For I will make him mine, 
 And he shall sleep beneath my roof 
 
 And like a hero dine." 
 
 28
 
 His comrade shook his bony hand 
 
 As only comrades can; 
 One mumbled feebly "It is Bill," 
 
 One, choking, whispered "Dan;" 
 And since that time I have not seen 
 
 The advertising man. 
 
 WHEN FIRST I SAW THY DIMPLES, 
 SWEET 
 
 |HEN first I saw thy dimples, sweet, 
 
 I thought me of the nest 
 Where Love was wont to pouting lie 
 And take his noonday rest. 
 
 So fresh the roses all around. 
 
 So warm his nest did look. 
 I knew he could not wander far 
 
 That had so dear a nook. 
 
 When lo ! within thy blue, blue eyes, 
 
 As nuad in a spring, 
 I saw him revel joyously 
 
 And flash each golden wing. 
 
 29
 
 OUTLOOK 
 
 JJHEN they were young. 
 And first the stars together sung. 
 They looked into each other s eyes 
 With sweet surprise. 
 For they were happy in the skies. 
 
 Now they are old, 
 
 They sing no more, and some are cold, 
 And all are sorrowed where they go 
 Since all do know 
 That youth is pleasure and that age is woe. 
 
 Still, roaming space, 
 They fully hope they yet may trace 
 A greater orbit, larger day, 
 Wherein the ray 
 Of some new sun shall dominate their way: 
 
 And that its power 
 
 Shall bid them bud again and flower, 
 If not through that delightful heat 
 Which once did beat 
 Upon them.young.with yet a force more sweet 
 
 30
 
 Whose strength, sublime, 
 Is as eternity to time; 
 And feeling which, renewed, reborn. 
 No more forlorn, 
 With music they may charm the perfect morn. 
 
 And so may we, 
 
 Grown placid in the storms that be. 
 Still hope and strive for grander things 
 For stronger wings 
 With which to gain the more celestial springs.
 
 LOTUS 
 
 MEHOW. urged from below, 
 And from above urged up. 
 Into the light I grow 
 And ope my golden cup. 
 Anchored, by day, I feel 
 The sun store me with gold; 
 At night. I closely seal 
 The cargo in my hold. 
 Jason, perchance, of yore, 
 In Argo fast asleep, 
 Dreamed sweetly, while, on high. 
 The gods, bestowing peace, 
 From out their happy sky 
 Made me his golden fleece.
 
 THE HIGHWAY OF FREEDOM 
 
 fiP comes the sun from out the sea 
 And lo ! his eye beholds 
 
 The first out-post of Liberty, 
 And her far-flaming folds 
 
 Of stripes and stars, 
 
 High o er the bars 
 
 Where her three guardsmen stand, 
 Firm-footed in the wave, 
 
 With heart, and soul, and hand 
 To shield her and to save, 
 Or sink unto their grave. 
 
 With stout-set lips. 
 
 And back to back. 
 
 Right in the track 
 
 Of westward-veering ships, 
 
 The might of all the mam they brave 
 
 And all the winds that rave 
 
 As those upon the bridge of Rome, 
 
 Long years ago protected home, 
 
 And brought a nation joy. 
 
 "All s well ! all s well !" 
 
 Shouts each true sentinel 
 
 St. John, St. Thomas and St. Croix. 
 
 33
 
 And now fair Porto Rique 
 
 The blazing orb doth speak. 
 
 "All s well !" laughs every vocal vale; 
 
 And every grove of palm 
 Proclaims the happy tale 
 
 That they are rich with calm, 
 
 The frankincense and balm 
 Of long-desired peace. 
 That shall not cease. 
 "All s well" re-echoes every peak, 
 "There is no more to seek." 
 
 Right on he flares, the god of light, 
 
 And now his gaze 
 
 Upon a rock-ribbed land doth blaze, 
 The head and front of Freedom, Maine. 
 "All s well ! All s well !" the strain 
 That gray Katadin and Monadnoc shout. 
 "The right is here and liberty about !" 
 "All s well !" the great Niagara roars: 
 Stentorian of the free. 
 Leaps like a lion towards the sea 
 Proclaiming liberty. 
 "All s well!" the Mississippi pours
 
 Along his sunny shores. 
 
 From state to state, 
 
 Majestic and elate. 
 
 "All s well !" the golden plains exclaim, 
 
 "We bloom in Freedom s name." 
 
 The towered top of Shasta hears 
 
 And loud he cheers, 
 
 "All s well ! All s well ! from sea to sea. 
 
 While Manposa s giant trees 
 (Ten thousand spears) 
 
 The signal seize: 
 
 "Have ye no fears: 
 
 Full twice a thousand years 
 
 Have we climbed up to be 
 
 The ruddy guards of Liberty. 
 
 All s well ! All s well ! where all are free. 
 
 Lo ! San Francisco s Gate of Cold 
 
 Gleams like Belchazzar s feast, of old. 
 
 High in the heavens it is written plain: 
 
 "The slave shall throw away his chain, 
 
 The tyrant be no more on any sea or shore. 
 
 Fast speeds the sun, 
 
 And o er the wave doth run 
 
 To Maui s summer shore, 
 
 35
 
 And lo! above his door 
 
 The banner of the bold 
 
 Doth all its stars unfold 
 
 Where he, and his six brothers stand 
 
 To guard the western strand 
 
 Bright pleiad of the deep ! 
 
 And high the emblem keep 
 
 That wraps them to its heart 
 
 And makes them all a part 
 
 Of Freedom and the free. 
 
 All s well ! All s well, O Liberty. 
 
 In this Pacific sea." 
 
 Now looks the sun upon 
 
 The far Luzon, 
 
 And from her darkness strives to wake 
 
 Her and her hundred sisters, for their sake. 
 
 Half-heartedly they hear 
 
 And sidelong glance and sneer 
 
 And doubt a sullen lot 
 
 That have so long oppression felt 
 
 And at his altars knelt, 
 
 (By all the world forgot) 
 
 That even Liberty doth seem 
 
 This old Oppression s dream, 
 
 36
 
 A baser scheme 
 
 Wherewith to trap them and to bind. 
 
 All s well ! All s well ! for they are blind, 
 
 But yet shall see 
 
 And know thy voice, O Liberty, 
 
 And thy true children be. 
 
 Faint not, Columbia, at thy task: 
 
 Great nations should great labors ask. 
 
 There was a work to do and thou didst say, 
 
 "Give this to me !" Rue not the day; 
 
 Let cynics smile and cowards hide 
 
 And money-lovers rail; 
 The right the right is on thy side; 
 
 Thou canst not fail. 
 For time at last shall fling unto thy feet 
 
 With an appealing face 
 
 The chains of all the groaning race, 
 And thou shalt hear the pean strong and sweet 
 "All s well ! all s well !" in every place. 
 
 For lo ! so crowded with triumphant stars 
 
 Thy flag doth shine 
 The world forgets her ancient way 
 And all its hopes divine 
 
 Are blossomed into thine. 
 
 37
 
 FORGET ME. TIME 
 
 JJORCET me. Time, if so thou wilt. 
 
 But, oh, my love remember, 
 As vestals wreathe their golden shrines 
 And feed the spicy ember. 
 
 The gentlest soul that ever dwelt 
 
 In this or other ages 
 Carve thou her name in marbles fair 
 
 And write it on thy pages. 
 
 Not for my sake, O Time, but for 
 Thy fame let live her story, 
 
 That future ages shall not say 
 How poor was this in glory.
 
 A SONG OF FAITH 
 
 HAVE not seen the glory that must be 
 
 Beyond this mortal sight, 
 And yet, within the deeper deeps of me, 
 I feel the Larger Light. 
 
 I have not felt His hand, this side the grave, 
 
 Within this palm of clay, 
 And yet, as it did Peter on the wave, 
 
 It lifts me day by day. 
 
 His voice mine earthly ear hath never heard. 
 
 Nor once expects to hear. 
 And yet, as in the Burning Bush, His word 
 
 Is ever uttered near. 
 
 I may not take the path that I should tread, 
 
 Forgetting where I go, 
 And yet, onPisgah s height and Horeb s head. 
 
 The golden Sun shall glow. 
 
 39
 
 THE CHARIOTEER 
 
 |HEN Light wheels up his chariot. 
 
 So dazzling his array 
 The multitudinous bright stars 
 Seem fast to melt away. 
 
 Yet they go not, but breathless watch, 
 The while his course he runs; 
 
 And only when he is obscured 
 Remember they are suns. 
 
 Again he comes, outstripping Night: 
 
 The vast arena glows, 
 As, in the east, applauding skies 
 Ram all his path with rose. 
 
 40
 
 LOVE IN LOVE 
 
 CAME on Love all unaware; 
 
 He sat beside a brook. 
 And peered into the limpid wave 
 With pensive look. 
 
 His little bow was thrown aside, 
 
 His golden arrows keen 
 Around him made a circle bright 
 
 Upon the green. 
 
 Pale were his cheeks, and from his eyes 
 
 The tears were like to rain, 
 And round about his dimpled mouth 
 
 A trace of pain. 
 
 A-tremble were his red, red lips, 
 And "Woe is me" he sighed; 
 
 "They never think that Love would choose 
 Himself a bride. 
 
 "They think forever he must give 
 All youths and maidens sweet, 
 
 Becoming mates, and round with joy 
 Their lives complete.
 
 "Alas ! these mortal maids are fair 
 Alas ! and woe is me: 
 
 I would I were a simple swam 
 In Arcady." 
 
 He ended, pouting rosily, 
 Then all his arrows took 
 
 And threw them at his counterfeit 
 Within the brook. 
 
 Upstarting then, he ran away, 
 And said: "Now I am free, 
 
 And I will wed the fairest maid 
 In Arcady. 
 
 "And I will dwell me in a cot 
 With her I love so true. 
 
 With honeysuckle round the door, 
 And violets blue. 
 
 "And she shall never know that I 
 Was other than a swam 
 
 Whose only care was his small fields 
 Of vine and grain. 
 
 "For her I ll clip my snowy wings 
 And lay them at her feet. 
 
 42
 
 And say: These trophies of the chase 
 I give thee, sweet. 
 
 " And were they mine, and could I fly, 
 I d clip them, dear, for thee. 
 
 To dwell forever at thy side 
 In Arcady. " 
 
 THE WIFE 
 
 NE bloom from all this multitude," 
 The gardener said, "is thine; 
 
 Make thou the choice," I chose, and lo ! 
 Could see no flower but mine. 
 
 43
 
 TO MIRTH 
 
 JJEACH me, O Mirth, the language of thy 
 
 mood, 
 
 That I may keep forever in my heart 
 Sufficient store of all thy lessons good 
 
 Against the keen and ready-feathered dart 
 Of that sarcastic wit who plays his part 
 So nimbly we become obedient mutes 
 
 To grief, forgetful of thy merry art. 
 And grow at last to hate thy mellow flutes, 
 Like some imprisoned soul among a thousand 
 lutes. 
 
 Let me of countless smiles and merriment 
 
 Make citadel wherein to rest secure 
 That when old Sorrow s gloomy hosts are sent 
 Against me his long siege I may endure, 
 Laugh at his shafts and feel my gates are 
 
 sure: 
 Feast at my board and know that sweet doth 
 
 spring 
 
 Within my walls a fountain bright and 
 pure 
 
 44
 
 So shall I hear with joy my minstrel sing 
 And match my lot above or potentate or king. 
 
 O sunny god of laughter and of song 
 
 Whose cheeks are rose, whose eyes are 
 
 twinkling stars, 
 
 Whose voice is music, I have loved thee long: 
 And I have thought with wonder on 
 
 grim wars, 
 
 Of those who passed thee by in whir 
 ling cars 
 
 To triumphs proud, to thrones that troubled be 
 When they, forbearing, might have 
 
 missed their scars. 
 
 And with thee danced beneath the green 
 wood tree. 
 
 Linked arm and arm with love, without an 
 enemy. 
 
 Vain gods there are who tempt us from our 
 
 own, 
 
 Strange dreams that haunt us with de 
 luding show; 
 
 We wake and follow, trusting the unknown, 
 And waste the gladsome blossoms as we go, 
 
 45
 
 So find, too late, the path is one of woe, 
 
 Through whose broad portals is no gay return, 
 
 Since they do swing but to the regions low 
 
 Of pillared darkness and the sculptured urn, 
 
 Where Mirth is mocked and jeered by hopes 
 
 that madly spurn. 
 
 Keep thou, O Mirth, thy kingdom in our 
 
 hearts. 
 
 And in our eyes maintain their happy light, 
 And on our lips, until the soul departs, 
 
 Keep thou the smile of thy contented 
 
 might. 
 Yea, sing thy golden measures through 
 
 the night; 
 
 Unclouded keep thy stars, and let the moon 
 Look calmly down from her enchanted 
 
 height 
 
 And we will sleep, not jealous of our noon, 
 But like the young Endymion, lapt in blissful 
 swoon.
 
 AT LAST 
 
 I. 
 
 ||EATH S at the gate: 
 Bid him not go; 
 Ask him to wait 
 
 A moment or so. 
 Love is so late. 
 
 Comes he or no? 
 
 II. 
 
 Death s at thy side: 
 
 Love is away, 
 Earth is so wide. 
 
 Time is so gray, 
 Love cannot ride 
 
 Home in a day. 
 
 III. 
 Death, take my hand; 
 
 Love is not here. 
 I understand 
 
 Love is grown sere: 
 Love s in the land 
 
 Of Mirth and Good Cheer. 
 
 47
 
 IV. 
 
 Death, thy surprise 
 
 Transfigures woe ! 
 Kiss lips and eyes ! 
 
 How should I know 
 Love in disguise ? 
 
 Come let us go. 
 
 TEMPLES 
 
 HE groves were Cod s first temples." 
 Then man bethought him how 
 
 To rear "a dome more vast, " 
 And raised his temples up. 
 
 Cod smiled, looked in, and passed. 
 
 "The groves were Cod s first temples, 
 
 And they shall be the last.
 
 LIFE 
 
 IJACH day a little stronger, 
 And then, a little longer, 
 Each day a little weaker 
 Until, at last, life s beaker 
 Upon the earth is shattered 
 And all its glory scattered. 
 
 A SINGER 
 
 BENEATH a laurel tree, 
 As sweetly as may be, 
 His reedy pipes he played 
 And lo ! into the shade 
 Came, wonder-eyed, the beasts. 
 On song to make their feasts. 
 And when the song was o er, 
 Unto their haunts once more 
 They crept like happy men 
 Who dream, and long to dream again. 
 
 49
 
 QUATRAINS 
 The Jewel 
 
 |IME gave to me a jewel bright Today! 
 I gazed with wonder at the boon, 
 I marveled at it until noon: 
 I mused, I dreamed the gift away. 
 
 Ye Happy Rivers 
 
 IE HAPPY rivers of her blood 
 That her sweet heart enflood. 
 I prithee, run unto your rosy sea 
 With not unloving thoughts of me. 
 
 Found 
 
 FOUND Nea s fillet. 
 Returned it straightway; 
 Since when, could I will it, 
 I d find it each day.
 
 The Exile 
 
 j|OU sent me, love, a rose. 
 Upon its cheeks the dew: 
 Exiled, in tears, it died, 
 Homesick for sight of you. 
 
 The Letters of Love 
 
 roses over thy door, 
 That when their petals fall 
 They spell upon the floor 
 Her name the Rose of all. 
 
 What is Love? 
 
 JJHAT is love? Ah, that is plain: 
 Tis as we give and take it. 
 Love is pleasure, love is pain. 
 Love is what we make it.
 
 Aceldama 
 
 JLOOD bought, all fields are fields of blood, 
 
 wherein 
 We slay ourselves through some devouring 
 
 sin 
 
 Through base betrayal and the sale of Light 
 All fields are fields of blood, not purchased 
 
 right. 
 
 The Cedar Tree 
 
 JITH giant hands thou clmgest to the rocks 
 And buildest up thy tower into the sky, 
 While we, too fearful of the tempest shocks. 
 Grasp earth with greed lift not the soul on 
 high. 
 
 An Epitaph 
 
 Ij^lEACE be to him beneath the sod ! 
 As peace must be, if Death is just. 
 In all he did he walked with Cod, 
 And Cod shall not forget his dust. 
 
 52
 
 PHILOSOPHERS 
 
 RIENDSHIP, Love the Philosopher s 
 
 Stone 
 
 I search but, oh, I find them not." 
 So sang the poet and made him moan; 
 "They are but dreams Time has forgot." 
 
 Now down the way came a rosy lad, 
 And piping was he on a reed. 
 "Oh. why so happy and why so glad. 
 When poets hearts they can but bleed?" 
 
 "Oh, tell me, tell me, my merry boy. 
 What god doth dwell within thy door? 1 
 Said the lad with heart o erbhm with joy, 
 "Love have I found and I need no more." 
 
 53
 
 GROWTH 
 
 IEFENDER of the Faith?" 
 
 The truth needs no defense; 
 More potent than all else. 
 
 Cods cannot drive it hence. 
 
 Creeds grow and creeds decay. 
 
 Thought ever upward springs: 
 Think not to stay her flight 
 
 With weight of perished things. 
 
 Love neither word nor phrase. 
 
 But for the spirit look; 
 Cod writes a page a day 
 
 In his great Wonder Book. 
 
 Or read it. or read not. 
 
 Tis written, and is Truth; 
 And he who scorns to read 
 
 Is Age that mocks at Youth. 
 
 54
 
 OCTAVES 
 I 
 
 Mullah: "Love, and Time and Death- 
 
 Ah, who can bridge them o er? 
 For they are Soul, and Hope, and Breath 
 That goes and comes no more." 
 The Master mused, and spoke it last: 
 "Thou thinkest well, O Youth, 
 And yet between thy kingdoms vast 
 Behold the arch of Truth." 
 II 
 
 Hail, Charon! Take me o er, 
 
 If over I must go. 
 
 Why not upon this shore 
 
 Enough of joy and woe? 
 
 Proceed: I have no pass. 
 
 What! lead I gave for fee? 
 
 Believe it not: look sharp: 
 
 Tis gold that died with me. 
 
 Ill 
 
 Away! Perhaps to-morrow 
 My heart to you may ope: 
 To-day belongs to sorrow 
 
 55
 
 And to hope. 
 To-day I cannot measure 
 My love, whate cr befall: 
 Perchance the grief I treasure 
 Will take it all. 
 
 IV 
 
 Come, smile and show thy dimples, love, 
 
 My soul would wander where 
 
 Those little vales of bloom proclaim 
 
 How sweet thou art and fair. 
 
 Come, smile and show thy dimples, love, 
 
 That I at least may see 
 
 (As Moses, looking Canaan-ward) 
 
 The realm denied to me. 
 
 V 
 
 The trump of fame to Cenius passed: 
 He placed unto his lips and blew it. 
 A whisper faint was all that came, 
 Half frightened, through it. 
 Said Death: "Now give it unto me." 
 And when he blew the world grew quiet. 
 Oh, ye that merit fame in life. 
 Co die and buy it. 
 
 56
 
 VI 
 
 Patter, patter falls the ram 
 
 Upon the autumn leaf 
 
 As fall upon the cheeks of age 
 
 The gentle tears of grief. 
 
 The rain cannot restore again 
 
 Unto the leaf its green. 
 
 And never in those furrowed cheeks 
 
 Shall roses more be seen. 
 
 VII 
 
 From where I stand, two vales I see. 
 And one is Youth, and one is Age: 
 One have I travelled, one must tread 
 And some few battles bravely wage. 
 Backward I look; the paths of Youth 
 The eastern slopes in shade repose, 
 While, lo! the western fields are thronged 
 With light sufficient to the close. 
 
 VIII 
 
 Blossoms that dot the fields 
 Of lowly Nazareth, 
 Fear not to fade and go 
 To yonr most fragrant death; 
 
 57
 
 The earth from whence you spring 
 The Master s feet have trod. 
 And he will call you, dears, 
 To throng the groves of Cod.
 
 FINIS: HIS SONG 
 
 chill Oblivion s stream 
 I wandered in a dream. 
 And there I met myself. 
 A sorry little elf 
 That sat upon a ledge 
 Beside the water s edge 
 And sung unto the wave 
 A merry, merry stave. 
 Said I unto the wight; 
 "It is a mournful sight 
 To see you here alone 
 To sing to wave and stone 
 That heedless are and cold. 
 And you so very old. 
 And you so dried and sere. 
 That Love can scarcely hear." 
 Then turned that wight to me. 
 (A jolly face had he): 
 "Think not that I deplore. 
 Upon this heedless shore. 
 My little music falls 
 And not a mortal calls 
 
 59
 
 For me to szng again. 
 If I sing not for men. 
 The heart of me I cheer 
 And happy am I here, 
 Beside this ancient wave 
 And sing a merry stave." 
 
 60
 
 Here ends the little book of verses entitled 
 J* "A Drift of Song" J* written by J* 
 Charles G. Blanden J* and pub 
 lished by J* William S. Lord 
 at Evanston J* in the 
 State of Illinois in 
 the month of June 
 MCMII 
 J*
 
 A 000 671 701 1