Acadian jLegends and Lyrics ARTHUR WENfWDRTH EATON v/ ACADIAN LEGENDS AND LYRICS Acadian Legends and Lyrics By ARTHUR WENTWORTH, EATON LONDON AND NEW YORK WHITE & ALLEN MOCCCLXXXIX COPYRIGHT, 1889, BY WHITE & ALLEN. I INSCRIBE HERE TWO NAMES THAT LIVE TOGETHER IN MY LOVE ANNA AUGUSTA WILLOUGHBY HAMILTON EATON AND SUSAN HAMILTON M179875 The vaulted chambers of the poet s brain Are peopled by a restless throng who beat Bewildering music ; sometimes low and sweet, Sometimes a loud, wild-resonant refrain. There glide soft-sheeted ghosts of long spent years, Sweet, sensuous loves of youth that lived an hour, Hope s phantom forms, delicious dreams of power, When all the world was new, and later fears Entangled not the boy s swift- fly ing feet. Beneath the dim, unearthly arches hide Odors from far-off flowers, and there abide The mother-songs that childhood s ears first grtet. CONTENTS. ACADIAN LEGENDS : PAGE The Naming of the Gaspcreau . . 3 L Ordre de Bon Temps .... 8 The Legend of Glooscap . . . . n Departure of Glooscap . . . . 15 Resettlement of Acadia . ... .19 L lle Sainte Croix .... 25 Phantom Light of the Baie des Chaleurs . . 28 Marguerite and the Isle of Demons . . 31 De Soto s Last Dream ..... 36 The Jubilee of Acadia College . . 4 1 LYKICS : Charles River, by the Bridge ... 47 The Whaling Town . . 5* Flood Tide . .53 I Watch the Ship^ ... 55 Foundry Fires . . .58 The Old New England Meeting House . 60 At Grandmother s . 63 Children of the Sun .... 66 CONTENTS. Fairy Folk ... . 68 The Street Organ ... 7i The Angel Sleep ..... 72 The Roots of the Roses .... 74 Chance Meetings . 75 The Poet Passed My Way .... 77 The Voyage of Sleep . 78 Gems That Are Rarest .... 80 La Douleur du Peintre .... 81 Sometime ...... 84 Twere Better to Love . 86 The Hearth is Cold 87 After Separation . . . . . 88 I Plucked a Daisy .... 89 The Meadow Lands . 9i Small and Great 9 2 Life 93 It Matters Much ..... 94 Not in Vain ..... 96 To a Doubter ..... 98 The Suicide 100 An Answer ...... 102 Despondency ...... I0 4 A Fire of Straw ..... 105 Reabsoiption into Deity 106 Eder s Watchtower ... log Day of the Triumphant Sun . 112 CONTENTS. My Purest Longings Spring "5 Brotherhood ..... 117 The Ancient Gods are Dead 119 O Easter Queen .... 121 Fountains Abbey .... 123 To Lord Hamilton of Dalzell . 128 SONNETS : O Restless Poet Soul 135 The Awakening . I 3 6 Love s Slavery ..... 137 Separation ...... 138 Pain . . . . . . X 39 Love Letters ...... 140 The Virgin s Shrine 141 If Christ were Here 142 A Dream of Christ. No. I. 143 No. II 144 Deepening the Channel 45 Matthew Arnold . 146 Elisha Mulford M7 Harvard Commencement . 148 ACADIAN LEGENDS. THE NAMING OF THE GASPEREAU. ABOUT 1673. XT O W the rainbow tints of autumn * ^ Deck the ancient hills And the dreamy river saunters Past the lazy mills, Let us seek the murmuring forest Where the pines and hemlocks grow And a thousand fringed shadows Fall upon the Gaspereau. When the old Acadian farmers, Sailing up the Bay, Landed with their goods and cattle On the fair Grand Pre, Wandering through the ancient forest Claude, Rene, and Theriot, In a vale of matchless beauty Found the River Gaspereau. A CADI AN LEGENDS AND L YRICS. Found the lithe and dark-skinned Micmac, In his birch canoe, Paddling down his Magapskegechk To the Basin blue, Little dreaming of the presence Of the Indian s pale-faced foe Singing unmelodious boat-songs On the winding Gaspereau. Midst the brushwood and the rushes And the trembling ferns, Where the River, sighing, singing, Speeds with many turns Through the gateway of the mountains Toward the meadows far below, On they crept in silent wonder By the sun-kissed Gaspereau. These were days of dream and legend, Continents were new, Here the humble Norman peasants Into poets grew; From their roaming in the forest Claude, Rene, and Theriot THE NAMING OF THE GASPEREAU. Brought their comrades rapt descriptions Of the vale of Gaspereau. Then around the hemlock fire, In the cabin rude, With their stock of cheese and brown-bread And their ale, home-brewed, Gathered all the Norman peasants; And at last Rene said low: " Let us name the new-found river Gaspere-water, Gaspereau ! " Gaspere was the gentlest comrade In their little band, None so buoyant, none so eager For the Acadian land; But ere half the voyage was over, In the wastes of summer seas, Suddenly there crept beside him Some old shadow of disease. There was mourning in the vessel, Strong men sobbed and cried, When one evening, just at sunset, Their loved Gaspere died ; A CADI AN LEGENDS AND LYRICS. There was wailing in the vessel As, with trembling voice and slow, Pere Deschambault read the death-prayers As the still form sank below. Dreary seemed the voyage thereafter On the cruel sea, Till they reached the smiling meadows Of fair Acadie. Never rose their songs at evening, For the flame of hope burned low; So they named the lovely river, With fond memory, Gaspereau ! Thence, in summer, when the plowing In the fields was done, And the busy looms were growing Silent, one by one, Many a lover in the moonlight, Speaking tender words and low, Sought the path across the meadows To the quiet Gaspereau. When there came some loss or sorrow To the little band; THE NAMING OF THE GASPEREAU. When the dykes broke, or the crops failed In the Acadian land, Many a tired wife and mother, All her spirit dark with woe, Sought relief from her forebodings By the peaceful Gaspereau. Vanished are the Acadian peasants, Sweet Evangeline, Gabriel, Benedict, and Basil, And no sadder scene Ever gave itself to story, Than that scene of wreck and woe, When the English ships weighed anchor In the mouth of Gaspereau. Still it flows among the meadows, Singing as of yore To the ferns and trailing mosses On the winding shore; To the pines that dip their branches In the crystal wave below, And the crimson leaves of autumn Falling in the Gaspereau. A CA DIA N LEGENDS AND L YRICS. L ORDRE DE BON TEMPS. r I ^WO hundred years ago and more In History s romance, The white flag of the Bourbons flew From all the gates of France. And even on these wild Western shores Rock-clad and forest-mailed, The Bourbon name, King Henry s fame With "Vive le Roi" was hailed. O " Vive le Roi ! " and "Vive le Roi ! " Those wild adventurous days When brave Champlain and Poutrincourt Explored the Acadian bays. When from Port Royal s rude-built walls Gleamed o er the hills afar The golden lilies of the shield Of Henry of Navarre. VORDRE DE BON TEMPS. A gay and gallant company Those voyagers of old Whose life in the Acadian fort Lescarbot s verse has told. Their Order of Good Times " was formed For mirth and mutual cheer; And many a tale and many a song Beguiled that winter drear. Aye, while the snow lay softly o er The meadows crisp and bare, And hooded all the clustering hills Like nuns of Saint-Hilaire, Each day they spread a goodly feast Not anywise too poor For cafes of the nobles in The famous Rue Aux Ours. And as the old French clock rang out, With echoes musical, Twelve silvery strokes, the hour of noon, Through the pine-scented hall, 10 AC A DIA N L EG ENDS AND L YRICS. The Master of the Order came To serve each hungry guest, A napkin o er his shoulder thrown, And flashing on his breast, A collar decked with diamonds, Fair pearls, turquoises blue; While close behind in warrior dress Walked old chief Membertou. Then wine went round and friends were pledged, With gracious courtesy, And ne er was heard one longing word For France beyond the sea. O days of bold adventure past; O gay, adventurous men, Your " Order of Good Times " I think Shall ne er be seen again ! THE LEGEND OF GLOOSCAP. THE LEGEND OF GLOOSCAP. "DARING its breast to the sun as of yore *^*^ Lieth the peaceful Acadian shore; Fertile and fair, in the dew and the rain, Ripen its fields of golden grain. Like a sabred sentinel grim and gray Blomidon stands at the head of the Bay, And the famous Fundy tides at will Sweep into Minas Basin still. From its home in the hills the Gaspereau Sings as it strays to the sea below, Wanders on till it wakes in the tide A muddy river, deep and wide. Here at the edge of the ancient wood Is the spot where Basil s smithy stood; Close to these clustering willows green Was the home of his love, Evangeline. 12 AC A DIA N L EGENDS AND L YRICS. This is the old Acadian shore Prized by the poet more and more As he lives in the loves and hopes, and hears Silvery strains from the silent years. Long ere the Frenchmen drove away The cruel tides from the fair Grand Pre, And bound the dykes like emerald bands Round the Acadian meadow lands, The Micmac sailed in his birch canoe Over the Basin calm and blue, With salmon spear to the lakeside crept, Then by his wigwam fire slept. Far in the depths of the forest gray Hunted the moose the livelong day; While the Micmac mother crooned to her child Forest folk-songs weird and wild. Over the tribe with jealous eye Watched the Great Spirit from on high; In the purple mists of Blomidon The god-man, Glooscap, had his throne. THE LEGEND OF GLOOSCAP. 13 No matter how far his feet might stray From the favorite haunts of his tribe away, The Micmac s cry of faith or fear Failed not to find his Glooscap s ear. Twas he who had made for the Indian s use Beaver and bear, and sent the moose Roaming over the wild woodlands; He who had strewn upon the sands Of the tide-swept shore of the stormy bay Amethysts purple, and agates gray; And into the heart of love had flung That which keeps love ever young. Then the Frenchmen came, a thrifty band, Who felled the forest and sowed the land, And drove from their haunts by the sunny shore Micmac and moose forevermore. And Glooscap, the god-man, sore distrest, Hid himself in the unknown West, And the Micmac kindled his wigwam fire Far^from the grave of his child and his sire, A CA DIA N LEGENDS AND L YRICS. Where now as he weaves his basket gay, And paddles his birch canoe away, He dreams of the happy time for men When Glooscap shall come to his tribe again. THE DEPARTURE OP GLOOSCAP. 15 THE DEPARTURE OF GLOOSCAP. ; ONG ago before the Frenchman **^* Stemmed the mighty tides of Fundy, Steered his bark to Minas Basin, Blue and peaceful as to-day; Long before the workman s hammer Rang its busy strokes at morning On the rude walls of the cabin Rising near the fair Grand Pre, Glooscap left his loving subjects, Bade farewell to Megumaage, Holding first a parting banquet On the Minas Basin shore ; Thither came the wolves and beavers, Came the martens and the foxes And the white owls and the turtles And the loons and many more. And they feasted long, but sadly, Till a gleam of silver moonlight, 16 AC A DIA N L EG ENDS A ND L YRICS. Shooting o er the silent water, Lighted frowning Blomidon. Then uprose the mighty Glooscap, Left the feast, and moving swiftly As the West Wind when it travels Through the giant pines alone, Bade the tide return to seaward, Pushed his great canoe upon it, Glided off upon the Basin, Singing sadly as he went; And the people of the forest, All the wolves and bears and beavers, Listening to the song of Glooscap, Gazed in silent wonderment. Till his voice grew faint and fainter. And the water of the Basin Rippling in th? silver moonlight Was the only sound they heard. Then the wolves and bears and beavers, Who till now had all been brothers, Lost the gift of common language, And no longer beast and bird THE DEPARTURE OF GLOOSCAP. 17 Lived in peace in Megumaage, But with hatred of each other Fled into the darkest forest Where the wild menichkul grow, And the great white-owl in anguish Wailed " koo-koo-shoes " ! I am sorry, And the loons beloved of Glooscap Uttered strange, wild notes of woe. There was wailing in the forest, There were sobs among the pine boughs, Lamentations deep and dreadful From the oak trees on the hills; All the flowers with choking voices Told their sorrow to each other, Mournful sang Seboo, the river, f And the little laughing rills. For they knew at last was over All the happy reign of Glooscap, Whose right hand had taught the Micmac All the useful arts he knew, Whose fierce bow had slain the giant, Killed Chenoo the icy-hearted, 18 A CA Dl A N LEGENDS AND L YRICS. And the great Wind-Bird, Wuchowsen, And the terrible Culloo. So he left them, mighty Glooscap, And they tell us he is making Arrows in his lofty wigwam Far beyond the setting sun, Arrows of the birch and poplar For some dreadful day of battle, When the Micmac s foes shall perish And his wanderings be done. And they tell us some have found him, After seven years of seeking, In the forests of the sunset Where there dwell no Micmac men; They have feasted in his wigwam, Where he lives in peace and plenty, And have heard his faithful promise That he shall return again. THE RESE TTLEMEN T OF ACA DIA . 19 THE RESETTLEMENT OF ACADIA. T~MIE rocky slopes for emerald had changed their A garb of gray When the vessels from Connecticut came sailing up the Bay; There were diamonds on every wave that drew the strangers on, And wreaths of wild arbutus round the brows of Blo- midon. Five years in desolation the Acadian land had lain, Five golden harvest moons had wooed the fallow fields in vain, Five times the winter snows caressed, and summer sun sets smiled On lonely clumps of willows, and fruit trees growing wild. There was silence in the forest and along the Minas shore, And not a habitation from Canard to Beau Sejoar, 20 AC A DIA N LEGENDS AND L YRICS. But many a ruined cellar, and many a broken wall, Told the story of Acadia s prosperity and fall. And even in the sunshine of that peaceful day in June, When Nature swept her harp and found her strings in perfect tune, The land seemed calling wildly for its owners far away, The exiles scattered on the coast, from Maine to Charleston Bay; Where with many bitter longings for their fair homes and their dead, They bowed their heads in anguish and would not be comforted ; And like the Jewish exiles, long ago, beyond the sea, They could not sing the songs of home, in their captivity. But the simple Norman peasant-folk shall till the land no more, For the vessels from Connecticut have anchored by the shore, And many a sturdy Puritan, his mind with Scripture stored, Rejoices he has found at last, "the garden of the Lord." THE RESE TTLEMENT OF A CA DIA . 21 There are families from Tolland, from Killingworth and Lyme, Gentle mothers, tender maidens, and strong men in their prime, There are lovers who have plighted their vows in Coventry, And merry children dancing o er the vessels decks in glee. They come as came the Hebrews into their promised land, Not as to wild New England s shores came first the Pilgrim band; The Minas fields were fruitful, and the Gaspereau had borne To seaward many a vessel with its freight of yellow corn. They come with hearts as true as are their manners blunt and cold To found a race of noblemen of stern New England mould, A race of earnest people whom the coming years shall teach 22 A CA DIA N LEGENDS A ND L YRICS. The broader ways of knowledge, and the gentler forms of speech. They come as Puritans, but who shall say their hearts are blind To the subtle charms of nature, and the love of human kind ? The blue laws of Connecticut have shaped their thought, tis true, But human laws can never wholly Heaven s work undo. And tears fall fast from many an eye, long time unused to weep, For o er the fields lay whitening the bones of cows and sheep, The faithful cows that used to feed upon the broad Grand Pre, And with their tinkling bells come slowly home at close of day. And where the Acadian village stood, its roofs o er- grown with moss, And the simple wooden chapel, with its altar and its cross, THE RESE TTLEMENT OF A CA DIA . 23 And where the forge of Basil sent its sparks toward the sky, The lonely thistle blossomed, and the fire weed grew high. The broken dykes have been rebuilt, a century and more, The cornfields stretch their furrows from Canard to Beau Sejour, Five generations have been reared beside the fair Grand Pre, Since the vessels from Connecticut came sailing up the Bay. And now across the meadows, while the farmers reap and sow, The engine shrieks its discords to the hills of Gaspereau, And ever onward to the sea the restless Fundy tide Bears playful pleasure yachts and busy trade ships, side by side. And the Puritan has yielded to the softening touch of time, 24 AC A DIA N LEGENDS AND L YRICS. Like him who still content remained in Killingworth and Lyme, And graceful homes of prosperous men make all the landscape fair, And mellow creeds and ways of life are rooted every where. And churches nestle lovingly on many a glad hill-side, And holy bells rings out their music in the eventide; But here and there on unfilled ground, apart from glebe or town, Some lone, surviving apple tree stands leafless, bare, and brown. And many a traveller has found, as thoughtlessly he strayed, Some long-forgotten cellar in the deepest thicket s shade, And clumps of willows by the dykes, sweet scented, fair, and green, That seemed to tell again the story of Evangeline. VILE SAINTE CROIX. 25 L lLE SAINTE CROIX. [Where the first French settlement in America was made.] I 17 IT H tangled brushwood all o ergrown, ^ And here and there a lofty pine, Around whose form strange creepers twine, And crags that mock the wild sea s moan; And little bays where no ships come, Though many a white sail passes by, And many a white cloud in the sky Looks down and shames the sleeping foam, Unconscious on the waves it lies, While, midst the golden reeds and sedge That, southward, line the water s edge, The thrush sings her shrill melodies. No human dwelling now is seen Upon its rude, unfertile slopes, Though many a summer traveller gropes For ruins midst the tangled green; ACADIAN LEGENDS AND LYRICS. And seeks upon the northern shore The graves of the adventurous band That followed to this western land Champlain, De Monts, and Poutrincourt. There stood the ancient fort that sent Fierce cannon echoes through the wold, There waved the Bourbon flag that told The mastery of a continent. There through the pines the echoing wail Of ghostly winds was heard at eve, And hoarse, deep sounds like those that heave The breasts of stricken warriors pale. There Huguenots and cassocked priests, And noble-born and sons of toil, Together worked the barren soil, And shared each other s frugal feasts. And heard across the sailless sea A strange, prophetic harvest tune, And saw beneath the yellow moon The golden reapings that should be. VILE SAINTE CROIX. 27 Till stealthy winter through the reeds Crept, crystal- footed, to the shore, And to the little hamlet bore His hidden freight of deadly seeds. Spring came at last, and o er the waves The welcome sail of Pontgrave ; But half the number silent lay, Death s pale first-fruits, in western graves. Sing on, wild sea, your sad refrain, For all the gallant sons of France, Whose songs and sufferings enhance The romance of the western main. Sing requiems to these tangled woods, With ruined forts and hidden graves; Your mournful music history craves For many of her noblest moods. A CA DIA N L EG ENDS A ND L YRICS. THE PHANTOM LIGHT OF THE BAIE DES CHALEURS. ) r I "*IS the laughter of pines that swing and sway Where the breeze from the land meets the breeze from the bay, Tis the silvery foam of the silver tide In ripples that reach to the forest side; Tis the fisherman s boat, in a track of sheen Plying through tangled seaweed green, O er the Baie des Chaleurs. Who has not heard of the phantom light That over the moaning waves, at night, Dances and drifts in endless play, Close to the shore, then far away, Fierce as the flame in sunset skies, Cold as the winter light that lies On the Baie des Chaleurs. They tell us that many a year ago, From lands where the palm and the olive grow. THE PHANTOM LIGHT, Where vines with their purple clusters creep Over the hillsides gray and steep, A knight in his doublet, slashed with gold, Famed, in that chivalrous time of old, For valorous deeds and courage rare, Sailed with a princess wondrous fair To the Baie des Chaleurs. That a pirate crew from some isle of the sea, A murderous band as e er could be, With a shadowy sail, and a flag of night, That flaunted and flew in heaven s sight, Sailed in the wake of the lovers there, And sank the ship and its freight so fair In the Baie des Chaleurs. Strange is the tale that the fishermen tell; They say that a ball of fire fell Straight from the sky, with crash and roar, Lighting the bay from shore to shore; Then the ship, with shudder and with groan, Sank through the waves to the caverns lone Of the Baie des Chaleurs. 30 AC A DIA N LEGENDS A ND L YRICS. That was the last of the pirate crew; But many a night a black flag flew From the mast of a spectre vessel, sailed By a spectre band that wept and wailed For the wreck they had wrought on the sea, on the land, For the innocent blood they had spilt on the sand Of the Baie des Chaleurs. This is the tale of the phantom light That fills the mariner s heart, at night, With dread as it gleams o er his path on the bay, Now by the shore, then far away, Fierce as the flame in sunset skies, Cold as the winter moon that lies On the Baie des Chaleurs. MARGUERITE AND THE ISLE OF DEMONS. 81 MARGUERITE AND THE ISLE OF DEMONS. T)AST the coral reefs and islands * In blue, palm-fringed Southern seas, Toward the great St. Lawrence, gaily Sped a French ship in the breeze, Bearing northward priests and nobles, High-born women, soldiers tall, Midst them, ever stern and gloomy, The proud viceroy, Roberval. Many a day, dark-browed and silent, He the men and maids would meet On the vessel s deck, and always Toward his niece, fair Marguerite, Send fierce glances, as when storm-clouds Shoot into the tropic sky, Driving bright-winged birds for shelter To the mango-forests high. And the haughty women gave her Looks of pity or of scorn, 82 A CA DIA N LEGENDS AND L YRICS. For her troth had long been plighted To a lover, humbly-born, Brave, but wild and pleasure-loving As the young stag on the moor, Seeking now some new adventure On this romance-breathing shore. Ever northward sailed the vessel Many and many an ocean mile, Toward the mouth of the St. Lawrence And the blue straits of Belleisle, Where to lonely shores and islands Silver sea-birds come in flocks, And the white surf, fiercely foaming, Breaks upon the sullen rocks. Suddenly the Isle of Demons, Hardly half a league away, Loomed before them, and the Viceroy Sternly called: " Come here, I pray. And his niece obeyed, and trembling Stood before him near the rail, And the other maidens, watching, Saw her face grow deathly pale. MARGUERITE AND THE ISLE OF DEMONS. 33 Not a word he spoke, but only, With that fierce light in his eye, Pointed to the Isle of Demons; Then he turned, and presently Came the white sailed ship to anchor, And above the wild surf s roar Marguerite heard mocking voices: " Dwell with us forevermore ! " As the mother soothes her baby, When its cry grows worse and worse, Now, with loving looks, hung o er her Old Marie, her Norman nurse, And her tears fell with the maiden s, As she sobbed " Ma belle petite, Old Marie will share the exile Of her little Marguerite." Then the women wept and pleaded With the Viceroy, Roberval, And the men, but he unyielding, Gave no heed to them at all; And they watched her as the rowers Bore her up the distant bay, 84 A CA DIA N LEGENDS AND L YRICS. While the ship lay fast at anchor Almost half a league away. How the demons pressed about her; How they mocked her woman s woe; From the gray cliffs rang their laughter To the echoing caves below. How she saw the flowers tremble Where they danced with death- shod feet, Heard their jarring voices call her: " Marguerite, O, Marguerite! " Then they gathered closer round her, Great and small, to do her harm; But the Virgin-Mother sheltered Marguerite with her right-arm; And she fought them, and grew stronger Ever as she kneeled to pray, Till at last the demons, shrieking, Fled into the woods away. And ere long she grew so holy, That they shunned her in affright, Never spoke her name save only MARGUERITE AND THE ISLE OF DEMONS. 35 On the distant cliffs at night. So she lived three lonely summers, Longing for some happy chance, That might give her back her lover, On the sunny shores of France. Till a little fishing vessel From some port beyond the sea, Drifting near the Isle of Demons, Gave the maid her liberty, And the good queen and the nobles Hastened her return to greet, And her faithful lover welcomed To his heart his Marguerite. 36 AC A DIAN LEGENDS AND L YRICS. DE SOTO S LAST DREAM. ON a shadowy plain where cypress groves And spreading palm trees rise, And the antlered deer, swift-footed, roves, The brave De Soto lies. They have made him a bed, where overhead The trailing moss entwines With the leaves of the campion flower red And gleaming ivy vines. Over his fevered forehead creeps, From the cedar branches high, The wind that sleeps in the liquid deeps Of the changeless southern sky. And the Mississippi s turbid tide, Broad and free, flows past, Like the current wide, on which men glide To another ocean vast. DE SO TCPS LAST DREA M. 37 He dreams of the days in sunny Spain When heart and hope were strong, And he hears again, on the trackless main, The sound of the sailor s song. Now, with the fierce Pizarro s band, To wield the sword anew, He takes command on the golden sand Of the shores of proud Peru. And northward now, from Tampa Bay, With glittering spear and lance, With pennons gay, and horses neigh, His cohorts brave advance. Again, as the glittering dawn awakes From its dreams of purple mist, By the stoled priests he kneels and takes The holy eucharist And the echoing woods and boundless skies Are hushed to soft content, As the strains of the old Te Deum rise On a new continent. ACADIAN LEGENDS AND LYRICS. Again he sees in the thicket damp, By the light of a ghastly moon, The crocodile, foul from his native swamp, Plunge in the dark lagoon. Again, o er the wild savannas flee, From his feet, the frightened deer, And the curlews scream, from tree to tree, Their strange, wild notes of fear. Over the rich magnolia blooms Floats, neath the evening skies, Drunk with their soft and sweet perfumes, The bird of paradise. The wild macaw, on her silken nest, Midst the orange blossoms white, From her scarlet breast and golden crest, Flashes the noon-day light. In the waving grass, on the yucca spires, Flowers of pallid hue Blend with erythrina s fires, And the starry nixia s blue. DE SOTO S LAST DREAM. The rich gordonia blossom swells Where the brooklet ripples by, And the silvery white halesia bells Reflect the cloudless sky. And southern mosses, soft and brown, With gleaming ivies twine, And heavy purple blooms weigh down The wild wistaria vine. Now on his bold Castilian band The native warriors press, From their haunts in the trackless prairie land, And the unknown wilderness; And the flame he has kindled gleams again On his sword of trusty steel, As he burns, midst the yells of savage men, Their village of Mobile. ****** Like the look of triumph o er victories won That dying conquerors wore, Or the light that bursts from the setting sun On some wild, rugged shore, 40 A CA DIA N LEGENDS AND L YRICS. The fire of hope lights up anew The brave adventurer s brow, A roseate flash, then death s dull hue, And his dream is over now. So, on the plain where cypress groves And spreading palm trees rise, And the antlered deer, swift-footed, roves, The brave De Soto dies. THE JUBILEE OF ACADIA COLLEGE. THE JUBILEE OF ACADIA COLLEGE, AUGUST 28, 1888. MOTHER of our manhood days, Proud sons of thine are we, As here, from all our scattered ways, We keep thy Jubilee. Before us lie in purple mist The meadows of Grand Pre, Thy slopes with hallow memories kissed Are fairer far than they. Across the fields of golden corn Faint shadows come and go, No cloud hangs o er thy harvest morn, Or dims thy sunlight glow. To thee all laurelled deeds we bring Our hearts or hands have done, Here at thy feet the first buds fling Of worthier works begun. 42 A CA DIA N LEGENDS AND L YRICS. Weep st thou thy elder sons ? We own, So pure their memories shine, The brightest jewels in thy crown Are those first sons of thine. Patient they wrought with toil and prayer, Ere fell the twilight gray; In worlds unseen may they not share This joy of ours to-day ? The riper years from which we wring Wide creeds and wider cares, Are ripe indeed if they but bring Devotion such as theirs. From out these halls where first we learned The power of thought to know, Where first our restless being burned With intellectual glow, New sons of thine are going still; O mother, may they be Men to whom Time may safely will An untried century. THE JUBILEE OF AC ADI A COLLEGE. 43 In spheres where scattered rays of good, Like wandering stars shall meet, Glad worlds, wherein the brotherhood Of man shall be complete, Set thou their steps, nor let them pause Till thought s sweet chimes be rung From every hill, and Nature s laws By every soul be sung. So the strong sceptre of the years Thy woman s hand shall wield, While ancient error disappears, And ancient wrongs are healed O mother of our manhood days, Proud sons of thine are we, As here from all our scattered ways We keep thy Jubilee. LYRICS. CHARLES RIVER, BY THE BRIDGE. 47 CHARLES RIVER, BY THE BRIDGE. \ 1 7ITH finest mimicry of wave and tide, * * Of ocean storm and current setting free, Here by the bridge the river deep and wide, Lashing the reeds along its muddy marge, Speeds to the wharf the dusky coaling barge, And dreams itself a commerce-quickening sea. East lies the city, clustering its cold spires Against a cloudless sky, one gilded dome Seen everywhere, as if a hundred fires Held jubilee upon the ancient height Where once a solitary beacon light, In peace unkindled, guarded freedom s home. Unlovely meadows westward meet the eye, Brown, silty, sere, where driftwood from the mills Is thrown, as Spring s full flood sweeps by, And weeds grow rank as on the wild sea-marsh, And lonely cries of sea-gulls loud and harsh, Pierce evening s silence to the distant hills. 48 A CA DIA N LEGENDS AND L YRICS The scene with all its varied, subtle moods, My eyes have looked upon so many years, That like my mother s songs, or the old woods In whose mysterious shade I used to play, Dreaming fair child-dreams in the soft noonday, It has strange power to waken joy or tears. I love the lights upon the farther shore, That thicken, as adds silent year to year, Long rows of gleaming lamps that more and more Remind me of the dear souls gone, not set Among cold jewels in God s coronet, But radiant still with life and hope and cheer. Sometimes inverted in the wave they seem Like Bagdad s palaces and spires aflame With jewels, or the golden towers that gleam Amidst the visions of the holy seer Who by the blue yEgean calm and clear, Saw things too fair for human lips to name. Sometimes when all the river lies in mist, So far away those twinkling eyes of flame, They seem like memories that still subsist CHARLES RIVER, BY THE BRIDGE. 49 And glimmer faintly through the shrouded years, Through noise and silence, laughter, cries, and tears, Of that white world from which our spirits came. 1 cannot watch unmoved the sunset here, When swift, volcanic fires of purest gold Along the hills of purple mist appear, And clouds deep-crimsoned in the day s decline Like fairest bridal-garments splashed with wine, Lie careless, resting fleecy fold on fold. I have no words to shape the things I find Told in this glory of the western sky; The best thought does not often reach the mind Until its splendor has swept o er the heart In waves of feeling. Truth s sublimest art Appears in this fine color-symphony. There are deep meanings in these changing moods Of wave and sky, that I who reverent stand Before a flower, and in the strange, old woods Hear speech too sacred for the common creeds, Try hard to find, as one who reads and reads The words of some great prophet in the land. 50 AC A DIA N LEGENDS AND L YRICS. O here is living beauty, like the gleam In deep, kind eyes when all the soul is there; This dark-arched bridge whereon I dream and dream, The lighted shore, the sky, the current free, In them is something of humanity, Something of God; that makes the scene so fair. THE WHALING TOWN. 51 THE WHALING TOWN, A DZE and hammer and anvil stroke Echo not on the shore, The wharves are crumbling, old, and gray, And the whale ships come no more. Grass grows thick in the empty streets, And moss o er the blackened roofs, And the people are roused to wonderment At the sound of horses hoofs. There s not a woman in all the town But keeps in memory The face of a husband, a lover, a friend Lost, she says, at sea. Lost in the days when in every storm Some well-known ship went down, And mothers wept and fathers prayed In the little whaling town. 52 A CA DIA N LEGENDS AND L YRICS. When every sail the children spied As they tossed the shining sand, Came from the storehouse of the sea With light for all the land. And still to the edge of the rotting wharves The tides from day to day Come with an eager wish to bear The whaling ships away. And many an aged mariner looks Across the spnrkling sea, And dreams that the waves with sails are flecked As of old they used to be. FLOOD TIDE. 53 FLOOD TIDE. HE tide came up as the sun went down, And the river was full to its very brim, And a little boat crept up to the town On the muddy wave, in the morning dim. T But that little boat with its reed-like oar Brought news to the town that made it weep And the people were never so gay as before, And they never slept so sound a sleep. News of a wreck that the boatman had seen Off in the bay, in a fierce, wild gale; Common enough, such things, I ween, Yet the women cried and the men were pale. Strange that a little boat could bring Tidings to plunge a town in tears; Strange how often some small thing May shatter and shiver the hope of years. 54 AC A DIA N LEGENDS AND L YRICS. O, none but the angel with silver wings That broods o er the river and guards the town, Heeds half of the woe each evening brings, As the tide comes up, and the sun goes down. / WA TCH THE SHIPS. 55 I WATCH THE SHIPS. T WATCH the ships by town and lea * With sails full set glide out to sea, Till by the distant light- house rock The breakers beat with roar and shock And foam fierce flying o er their decks, While deep below lie ocean s wrecks; What careth she. I stand beside the beaten quay And look while laden ships from sea Come proudly home upon the tide Like conquering kings at eventide, Or from fierce fights with wintry gales Steal shoreward now with tattered sails; O cruel sea. I pass once more the old gray pier Where men have waited many a year For ships that ne er again shall glide By town and lea on favoring tide, 56 A CA DIA N LEGENDS AND L YRICS. Strong ships that struggled till the gales Of winter hid their shrouds and sails In ocean drear. Soft sailing spirits, how they glide Forth on life s fitful sea untried To breast the waves and bear the shocks Beyond the guarded light-house rocks, To strive and struggle many a year; Strong souls, indeed, if they can bear Life s wind and tide. I watch beside life s beaten quay The tides bring back all joyously To anchor by the sheltered shore Some freighted full with golden store From rich spice-fields and perfumed sands Of soft, luxuriant tropic lands; O kindly sea. But some have met with wintry gales, And come at last with shattered sails To anchor by the old, gray pier; / WA TCH THE SHIPS. 57 While loving ones in hope and fear Wait on for some that nevermore Shall anchor by a peaceful shore; O sad, sad sea ! 58 AC A DIA N LEGENDS A ND L YRICS. FOUNDRY FIRES. EE the foundry fires gleaming With a strange and lurid light, Listen to the anvils ringing Measured music on the night; Clanking, clinking, never shrinking, Strike the iron, mould it well! On the progress of the nations Each persistent stroke shall tell. Showers of fiery sparks are falling Thick about the workmen s feet, Some are carried by the night wind Far along the winding street; Clanking, clinking, never shrinking, Labor lifts her arm on high, And the sparks fly from her anvils Out upon the darkened sky. In the quickened glow of feeling, Neath the anvil strokes of thought, FOUNDRY FIRES. Ancient errors disappearing, Nobler creeds to birth are brought; Clanking, clinking, never shrinking, Strike the truth, yea mould it well! On the progress of the nations Each persistent stroke shall tell. Crude the mass time s fiery forges At your eager feet have hurled, Centuries of toil must follow Ere ye shape a perfect world; Yet with clanking, clanking, clinking, Strike the iron, shape the truth; Science is indeed beginning, Thought is in its lusty youth. O ye forgemen of the nations, Keep the world s great fires alight, Let the sparks fly from your anvils All along the roads of night; Clanking, clinking, never shrinking, Work till stars fade, and the morn Of a wider faith and knowledge In the radiant East is born. 60 AC A DIA N LEGENDS AND L YR1CS. THE OLD NEW ENGLAND MEETING HOUSE. STANDING alone on the country side, Calmly disdaining its walls to hide Under the garb of vine or tree, Year after year it frowned at me. A square-walled church devoid of a spire, With a lofty gallery for the choir, Who sang with many an odd inflexion Hymns from a very old collection. Many a time I have sat as a child And listened until my ears were wild To the basses and tenors with nasal sound, Through fine old fugue-tunes marching round. There was a pulpit square and high, Massively built in days gone by, With a damask curtain dingy red, And a winding stair that upward led. OLD NEW ENGLAND MEETING HOUSE. 61 Pews that never were built to please Prosperous saints who love their ease, Stood by the aisles with sides so tall The children could hardly see at all. Silently down in the old square pews, As the thirsty earth waits heaven s dews, The people sat, while the preacher hurled Righteous wrath at the wicked world; Or from the words of Jesus read Gentler things, and softly said " Now let us pray," so closed his eyes And lifted his face toward the skies. To the test of a pulseless plan he brought Every phase of modern thought, Nor dreamed that his Calvinistic creed Was not as wide as human need. Some in the church, he knew them well, Were far on the downward way to hell; They listened like saints and dead to fear, Sat through the sermons year by year. ACADIAN LEGENDS AND LYRICS. But some by the barren service there He knew were moved to faith and prayer, On heavenly hopes their hunger fed And their hearts were always comforted. The preacher safe in his home on high, The day of the church at length went by; The younger people watched it fall, Gallery, pulpit, pews, and all, With hardly a thought. Perhaps their creed Had somewhat changed, since they felt the need Of buttress and arch and spire and bell As aids to rescue souls from hell. I pass by the place, but all is new; I close my eyes, and there in view Stands once more on the country side The strange old church in all the pride Of its barren walls and pulpit high; And I think how soon shall all go by Customs and creeds that have no fear That a judgment day for them is near. A T GRANDMOTHER S. AT GRANDMOTHER S. T T NDER the shade of the poplars still, Lilacs and locusts in clumps between, Roses over the window sill, Is the dear old house, with its door of green. Never were seen such spotless floors, Never such shining rows of tin, While the rose-leaf odors that came thro the doors, Told of the peaceful life within. Here is the room where the children slept, Grandmother s children tired with play, And the famous drawer where the cakes were kept, Shrewsbury cookies, and caraway. The garden walks where the children ran To smell the flowers and learn their names, The children thought, since the world began Were never such garden walks for games. 64 A CA DIA N L EG ENDS AND L YRICS. There were tulips and asters in regular lines, Sweet-williams and marigolds on their stalks, Bachelors buttons and sweet-pea vines, And box that bordered the narrow walks. PUIJ white lilies stood cornerwise From sunflowers yellow and poppies red, And the summer pinks looked up in surprise At the kingly hollyhocks overhead. Morning glories and larkspur stood Close to the neighborly daffodil; Cabbage roses and southernwood Roamed thro the beds at their own sweet will. Many a year has passed since then, Grandmother s house is empty and still, Grandmother s babies have grown to men, And the roses grow wild o er the window-sill. Never again shall the children meet Under the poplars gray and tall, Never again shall the careless feet Dance thro the rose-leaf scented hall. A T GRANDMOTHER S. Grandmother s welcome is heard no more, And the children are scattered far and wide, And the world is a larger place than of yore, But hallowed memories still abide. And the children are better men to-day For the cakes and rose-leaves and garden walks, And grandmother s welcome so far away, And the old sweet-williams on their stalks. 66 A CA DIA N LEGENDS A ND L YRICS. CHILDREN OF THE SUN. A SUNFLOWER tall by the garden wail ** Scornfully nodded his head To a brilliant poppy whose cheeks below Were all aflame with a crimson glow. " I am the child of the sun," he smiled, " His color is mine, you see; Yellow am I to my outmost rim, While you how little you look like him." But the poppy gay still blushing away, (And laughing a little too,) Quietly answered "The sun has told Me to be red, and you to be gold. " The morning s hush, and the poppy s blush Are dear to the heart of day As the noontide hour with its triumphs won, And the flower that rivals the glowing sun. CHILDREN OF THE SUN. 67 " Heaven is large, and its chiefest charge Is that life shall be broad and free, And it bids the children of sun and storm Ne er to a single type conform." The sunflower wise looked down in surprise At the bold little flower below, But he learned a lesson there and then That needs to be learned by many men. ACADIAN LEGENDS AND LYRICS. FAIRY-FOLK. HT^IME in its mysterious flight Circles many a common thing With a mystic wreath of light, All its earth-stains shadowing. In the dimness of the past Human faces grow divine, The soft shadows deepening fast Into living shapes combine. From the darkness men advance, All their common speech enlarged Into sacred utterance With portentous meaning charged. From the hush of buried years, From the silent ages flown, Every voice that greets our ears Has a strange, prophetic tone. FAIRY- FOLK. Backward to her legend- lore Time with fixed forefinger points, And the fairy-tales of yore With the oil of truth anoints; Bids us think her ages old Swarmed with shapes no longer seen, Nymphs and gnomes of wood and wold, Fauns and fairies on the green. Dull indeed the world would be Must we search the grottoed plain, Dusky wood, or caverned sea For these shadowy friends in vain. O ye godlike shapes of men, Sprites of grove, and sea, and shore, Mossy meadow, field, and fen, Live with us forevermore. Though to science ye are strange, Born of faith and mystery, Though ye must no longer range Fields of sober history, 70 AC A DIAN LEGENDS AND L YRICS. Still ye sylphs of ages old, Spirits of the woods and storms, Elves and ogres, shy and bold, Dreadful dragons, fairy forms, In our days of childish glee Hold high carnival and reign; Weave the web of dreams and be Ministers to later pain. THE STREET ORGAN. 71 THE STREET ORGAN. A N organ grinding below in the street, ** You smile that I think the music sweet, And you think it strange that I love to listen, And stranger still that tear-drops glisten In my eyes where so seldom a tear is seen. Ah, if you knew how many things, Like twilight birds with silver wings, Came back with these simple airs to me Over the leagues of summer sea My boyhood self and me between, If you knew that a voice I am hungry to hear Spoke thro this music, plaintive, clear, That a face appeared as the old tunes play, A face I have longed for night and day And never see except in my dreams, You would not wonder I stop and listen, You would not wonder tear-drops glisten In my eyes, as down to the street below, A few poor pennies I gently throw For the grinder to snatch from tlie passing teams. 72 A CA DIA N L EGENDS A ND L YRICS. THE ANGEL SLEEP. WHEN the day is done and the shadows fall Over the earth like a dusky pall Then from the unknown, silent deep Rises the beautiful Angel Sleep. Over forest and field he spreads his wings Where the cricket chirps and the wood-bird sings, And the murmur of voices dies away Hushed by the Angel calm and gray. The passions of men that surge and swell, Are silenced soon neath the mystic spell, And tired hearts long used to weep Yield to the power of the Angel Sleep. Softly he broods till the day is come, Then to his shadows flieth home. And the spell is gone and the world again Takes up its burden of care and pain. THE ANGEL SLEEP. 73 We call him death, tis the Angel Sleep That comes at last from the silent deep, And smooths forever the brow of care, And calms the fever of passion there. So, we sleep and rest till the morning gray Breaks once more, of an endless day, And into the dark, mysterious deep Flies forever the Angel Sleep. A CA DIA N LEGENDS AND L YRICS. THE ROOTS OF THE ROSES. E roses come and the roses go But the roots of the roses live under the snow, Silent their slumber, dreamless, deep, But by and by they shall wake from sleep. Our pleasures come and our pleasures go, But the roots of true joy are hid under the snow, The hope of the heart has its Winter drear, But the roses come back in the Spring of the year. Friendships are born and friendships die, But love lasts on, tho the streams be dry, Her beautiful roses may come and go, But the roots of the roses live under the snow. The roses come and the roses go, But the roots of the roses sleep under the snow, They are blooming no longer our paths beside, But their fragrance shall greet us at Eastertide. CHANCE MEETINGS. 75 CHANCE MEETINGS. A STRANGER in the moving throng To whom I said a careless word About the weather, or some song, Or singer, he and I had heard. His answer I have wholly lost In separate ways we left the place, But I keep what I value most, The memory of a human face. And still I feel within my heart The thrill his touch awakened there, As, clasping hands, we moved apart, Each ignorant of the other s sphere. We are not strangers, you and I, Who touch but once each other s hands, Amidst the throng whose interests lie In many spheres, in many lands. 76 A CA D1A N LEGENDS A ND L YRICS. The quick, responsive, friendly clasp Of hands, the smile our faces wear, Have genuine meanings each may grasp, They tell the common life we bear. No matter where, by chance we met, The thought is free of time or place, I keep what I can ne er forget The memory of a human face. THE POET PASSED MY W A Y. 77 THE POET PASSED MY WAY. [Written for the tribute to John G. Whittier on his eightieth birthday.] E poet passed my way Bearing great handfuls of fair flowers, Pure white with golden gay, Plucked from his soul s tilled garden plots and bowers. They are but common blooms, Fragrant, yet fading like the rest; Enough to deck my rooms I ll gather, said I, following toward the West. But in a moment more, Stooping to lift them from the sod, I found the poet bore, Not flowers, but great thoughts rooted deep in God. 78 AC A DIA N LEGENDS A ND L YRICS. THE VOYAGE OF SLEEP. sleep I give myself away, Unclasp the fetters of the mind, Forget the sorrows of the day, The burdens of the heart unbind. With empty sail this tired bark Drifts out upon the sea of rest, While all the shore behind grows dark And silence reigns from east to west. At last awakes the hidden breeze That bears me to the land of dreams, Where music sighs among the trees, And murmurs in the winding streams. O weary day, O weary day, That dawns in fear and ends in strife, That brings no cooling draught to allay The burning fever-thirst of life. THE VOYAGE OF SLEEP. 79 O sacred night when angel hands Are pressed upon the tired brow, And when the soul on shining sands Descends with angels from the prow. To sleep I give myself away, My heart forgets its vague unrest, And all the clamor of the day, And drifts toward the quiet west. 80 A CA DIAN LEGENDS AND L YRICS. GEMS THAT ARE RAREST. EMS that are rarest Hide in the sea, Flowers that are fairest Plucked not may be; Sunshine the brightest Conies after rain, Hearts that seem lightest Know bitterest pain. Truth deepest lying Wakes to thy view When, self-denying, To self thou rt true. Heaven is nearest When thou, sin-tossed, Gloomily fearest Thy soul is lost. LA DOULEUR DU PEINTRE. 81 LA DOULEUR DU PEINTRE. HP HERE is crape on the studio door And none pass in to-day, And the sunlight on the floor Falls cold and gray; And the painter s head on his hands is bent In a new and strange bewilderment. He has brought a flower of gold, The daffodil of her France, It lies in her fingers cold, A glittering lance; And he lives once more, with her alone, The sunny life of Barbizon. Together they climb the hill And stand in the sunset glow And watch while the breezes fill The sails below; And she bids him compass with his art The beautiful things of eye and heart. ACADIAN LEGENDS AND LYRICS. So there come from his willing hand Results more swift and true, As the harvest ears expand In sun and dew; And her love makes radiant all his life And he blesses God for the gift of his wife. But sorrow stands by the shrine In the darkest place of his soul, And bids him drink the wine In her silver bowl; And his nerves are wrought with subtle pain, And he bows his head in grief again. Strange that we never know Our own till they are dead; That life s best harvests grow When life is fled; That love comes not to its second birth Till our lips have echoed " Earth to earth." Crape on the studio door, A cheerless light within, LA DOULEUR DU PEINTRE. A heart that shall never more Know care or sin ; And a hand that lifts not whence it fell The brush it was used to wield so well. 84 AC A D1A N LEGENDS AND L YRICS. SOMETIME. QOMETIME, sometime, **^ The clouds of ignorance shall part asunder, And we shall see the fair, blue sky of truth Spangled with stars, and look with joy and wonder Up to the happy dream-lands of our youth, Where we may climb. Sometime, sometime, The passion of the heart we keep dissembling Shall free herself, and rise on silver wing, And all these broken chords of music, trembling Deep in the soul, our lips shall learn to sing, A strain sublime. Sometime, sometime, Love s broken links shall all be reunited, But not upon the ashy forge of pain; The full-blown roses dead, the sweet buds blighted Shall bloom beside life s garden walks again, In fairer clime. SOMETIME. 85 Sometime, sometime, The prophet s unsealed lips shall straight deliver The message of eternal life uncursed; Wind-swept, the poet s heaven-tuned soul shall quiver, And from his trembling lyre at length shall burst Immortal rhyme. A CA DIA N LEGENDS AND L YRICS. TWERE BETTER TO LOVE. ** Tis better to have loved and lost Than never to have loved at all." J ~p WERE better to love, though the heart be broken, ** Than to sit alone from passion free, Never to have a sign or token Of the life that deepest lies in thee. Twere better to love, though peace should never Softly climb to thy soul again, Than to live the blinded life forever Of barren-hearted, loveless men. Twere better far that the gates, in shadow, Of heaven, should once have come in view Than that thou till death, from thy dull meadow, Shouldst never have seen the pearl and blue. THE HEARTH IS COLD. 87 THE HEARTH IS COLD. T^HE hearth is cold, the fire no more Glows in the twilight gray, Tis colder, colder than before The soft flame had its way. Love s fire is quenched, its glow is o er, Its ashes now are gray; My heart is colder than before The glad flame had its way. I shall forget it more and more, This passion of a day, Yet I am glad though it is o er The fire once had its way. ACADIAN LEGENDS AND LYRICS. AFTER SEPARATION. YOU are here, O my love, at my side And I struggle to keep My starved spirit from reeling In the tumult and toss of the tide That sweeps in from the unsounded, deep, Shoreless ocean of feeling. The time has been long, dearest heart, But a moment of this Would make balance for ages; It were kind to keep lovers apart, If, at meeting, God give them such bliss As comes now for our wages. I am learning the meaning at last Of the speech of my kind, Often heard, little heeded; Pre.-s your lips to my lips hold me fast, O my love; I was sick, I was blind; Heaven knew what I needed. / PLUCKED A DAISY. gg I PLUCKED A DAISY. T PLUCKED a daisy by the walk, A white field daisy, carelessly, I saw it tremble on its stalk And cast a piteous glance at me. Its sisters seemed to chide me too, As if I had destroyed a life That God had given some work to do, In earth s wild garden lands of strife. And nodding all their golden heads, Encased in bonnets snowy white, Tears seemed to fall in crystal beads From their soft eyes, that summer night. O little daisies of the sod, One law controls your life and mine, Ye are the humblest flowers of God, But ye like man are half divine. ACADIAN LEGENDS AND LYRICS. And as ye cheer the dusty walk And whiten all the meadows fair, I see a spirit on each stalk That trembles in the dewy air. Bloom on in simple faith and joy In purity and tenderness, I will not needlessly destroy Your golden heads and snowy dress. THE MEADOW LANDS. 91 THE MEADOW LANDS. T^HE tide flows in and out and leaves Its richness on the meadow lands, The furrowed surface-soil upheaves, And sprinkles life among the sands. Across the meadow lands of life The tide of time flows and recedes, Its muddy wave brings woe and strife, But forms the soil for noble deeds. The tide flows in and out and brings New beauty to the meadow lands, With lavish tenderness it flings Fair flowers across the silver sands. A CA DIA N LEGENDS AND L YRICS. SMALL AND GREAT. E ripp e that stirs on the sea of thought, As we drop our smallest question there, Into the ocean s life is wrought And moves it everywhere. Who strikes a chord in the human soul, Be he laborer, poet, priest, or sage, Makes music that rings from pole to pole And lasts from age to age. The feeblest prayer that to heaven flies Has the infinite power in its wing And the treasure of peace it brings from the skies Is not a foreign thing. For all is in each, and each in all, All is human and all divine, The small is the great, the great the small, And truth is mine and thine. LIFE. 93 LIFE. A GOLDEN gleam between the past and present, ** A feeble, flickering, unearthly flame; A light that flashes up amidst the darkness And fades again as quickly as it came. A wave that rises noiseless from the ocean And breaks with soft, sad moaning on the shore; A white- capped wave that lifts its crest to heaven And sinks into the silent deep once more. A sudden, startled strain that strikes at evening Through all the slumbering air from hill to hill; A strange child-song of mingled mirth and madness That wakes a wayward echo, and is still. A silver-sheeted spectre-form that wanders On some mysterious shore at dead of night, A moment weeps its woes, then wingless rises Into the chambers of the infinite. 94 A CA DIA N L EG ENDS AND L YRICS. IT MATTERS MUCH. T 17" H ETHER I live in the crowded town * * Or in open lands beside the sea, So long as I live for love s sweet crown What difference can it make to me; But whether I feel the trembling touch Of the hand of need where er it be, This matters much. Whether the winds of fortune blow Over my head with soft caress, What difference, if I may but know I am healing some sad heart s distress; But whether I feel the woe of such As long for a brother s tenderness, This matters much. For life with its suffering and sin Hath little to give of peace or rest, And I know the care that hideth in IT MA TTERS MUCH. 95 Many and many a tender breast; So I pray that God through my hand s touch May heal some hearts by grief opprest, This matters much. % A CA DIA N L EG ENDS A ND L YRICS. NOT IN VAIN. "XT O matter how relentlessly * ^ The storm sweeps o er the night, Life is not lived in vain if we But anchor to the right. Life is not lived in vain although Our fairest hopes decay, And ere we die the lichens grow Over their ruins gray. Life is not lived in vain if we, Amidst the winter s gloom, May clothe one barren, leafless tree With fragrant summer bloom. If we may call the stars again Into some darkened sky It cannot be that life is vain Although its dreams go by. NOT IN VAIN. For he whose life was most, divine Had only this success: To cause a few hope-rays to shine Amidst earth s hopelessness, 98 A CA DIA N L EGENDS AND L YRICS. TO A DOUBTER. T CANNOT say " Believe " to thee Whose lips from thought s clear springs have drunk, The questions of the age have sunk Deep in thy quivering soul, I see. For I should hear thee rightly say, " Whate er is true, thy well-turned speech Doth not the mind s recesses reach Nor light the spirit s hidden way." Thy soul for certainty is sick, While they who wrangle over forms, Untroubled by faith s fiercer storms Feed well on sweets of rhetoric. I see thee like a long caged bird, Thou beat st thy bars with broken wing, And flutter st, feebly echoing The far-off music thou hast heard. TO A DOUBTER. 99 Oblivion tempts thee, yet be wise, Walk on awhile in storm and shade, These ghosts that haunt thy feet may fade; Thought hath its cock-crow and sunrise. Perhaps the unseen plan shall prove More than thy noblest longings crave; Thy life may sweep beyond the grave Into a universe of love, Where doubt may cease, wrong turn to right, God s diverse ways be reconciled, And thou so long His orphan child Meet Him upon the hills of light. 100 AC A DIA N L EG ENDS AND L YR1CS. THE SUICIDE. HIS heart was breaking, breaking, Neath loads of care and wrong Who blames the man for taking What life denied so long ? She promised rest and gladness; She mocked him o er and o er ; She bathed with seas of sadness His spirit s island shore. She bade him lightness borrow Beneath her trees of yew, Though all the dreadful sorrow Of the dark world he knew. He had no mind to flatter An age with falsehood drest; She hated him; no matter, The man is now at rest. THE SUICIDE. 101 He begged for light from heaven, No light his soul could see; He snatched what was not given; He sleeps, now let him be. His heart was breaking, breaking Neath loads of care and wrong; Heaven must not blame his taking What she denied so long. 102 A CA DIA N LEGENDS AND L YRICS. AN ANSWER. tk A God, a God their severance ruled." YOU tell me that all can be strong and wise, That men can choose their fate; This is one of your winning lies, It comes to me too late. A favored few to the purple born Laugh at the threats of chance; Look at the race, oppressed and worn, Poor slaves of circumstance. We may take -what we will from life, you say, The whitest bread, or a stone; We may walk on the sunniest side of the way, Or sit in the shade alone. Bread to the hungriest denied, Love to the lover s heart, Fields uncut at the harvest-tide, And reapers, kept apart; AN ANSWER. 103 I pray you look o er the walls of your creed, (Heaven-builded though they be, ) At the shackled shapes of human need, Of pain and misery. What we are given we have, and fate (Name it God if you will) may be kind In it all, but she shuts the iron gate Of her plan, and keeps us blind. And, in the future who can tell, If life still be not lost, Whether we hug the harbor well, Or on strange seas are tossed. Pause by these silent, salt-waved seas That stretch to worlds unseen; Blows to thee here on the landward breeze A breath from forests green? Then, hope for the best, and pray and pray, Since unseen powers there be, But do not think that the world to-day Wants cheap philosophy. 1 04 AC A DIA N LEGENDS A ND L YR1CS. DESPONDENCY. LET the age its discords shrill Madly shriek from hill to hill; " Thou art tired, best be still." Dost thou think its wrongs to right, Wilt thou try to cure its spite ? Tears shall quickly blind thy sight. Stronger hands than thine have failed, Braver hearts than thine have quailed, By its weapons coarse assailed. Pharisees in Church and state Sit in plenty at its gate; Prophets do but rouse its hate. Custom is the Church s god, Greed walks openly abroad; Truth sits weeping on the sod. Let the age its discords shrill Madly shriek from hill to hill; Thou art powerless, be still. A FIRE OF STRA W. 105 A FIRE OF STRAW. A FIRE of straw in field or town ** Obscures the bluest skies, To-day s complaining echoes drown Time s grandest harmonies. One trifling error on the page All satisfaction mars; So earth s stray swamp-lights more engage The mind than heaven s stars. Man s deepest instincts bid him rise Among the rose- red spheres; But some old custom, when he tries, Enchains him fast with fears. O empty, phosphorescent gleam, Swift-fading fire of straw, When ye are gone, still lives my dream Of worlds of love and law. 106 A CA DIA N L EG ENDS AND L YRICS. REABSORPTION INTO DEITY. " Having obtained tranquillity one is not troubled; and remain ing in it, even at the time of death, he passes on to extinction in the Supreme Spirit." Bhagavad Gita. WITH undimmed eye I listen to the wisdom old which saith Man shall be reabsorbed in God at death; The human spirit is a deep-drawn breath Of Him on high. No living thing Save man, has ever dreamed of higher spheres Wherein to taste delights the fleeting years Have here denied, or balance this world s fears And suffering. Sad hearts that pray, Soft petaled, crimson flowers that bloom and fade, Trees that grow sturdier in storm and shade, Begotten are they all of God, not made Like cups of clay. REABSORPTION INTO DEITY. 107 Why have we right To some chief boon of immortality Not given our brothers of the wood and sky: Strong beasts, soft- fluttering, winged birds that fly From light to light ? Then let me go Into the great hereafter joyously, To live, yet not to live apart from thee; From thy great life the life now lent to me No more to flow. The Ocean vast Has need of all his wayward waves and streams, The Central Sun has need of all his beams; It is full time these strange, fantastic dreams Of mine were past. I turn to thee, O thou great Father, Universal Soul, Unheeding nature s myriad bells that toll Dead things; since all life s rivers roll Back to their sea. 108 AC A DIA N LEGENDS A ND L YRICS. Ah, what can be So grand for nature or for man, what fate So lofty, as to sweep in solemn state At evening, back through a wide open gate To Deity! EDER S WATCHTOWER. 109 I EDER S WATCHTOWER. LOVE the soft incoming tide That breaks in showers of silver spray, I love the dawn that opens wide The floodgates of the living day, I love the harvest voice that speaks From each green blade of growing corn, I love the first fair beam that breaks Across the heart in sorrow s morn; But fairer than the silver tide, And brighter than the morning s flood The light on Bethlehem s meadows wide Where Eder s ancient watchtower stood. O little town of Bethlehem, Where Christ, the perfect man, was born, Thy memories are dear to them Whose earth-shod feet are travel-worn. 110 AC A DIA N LEGENDS AND L YRICS. The Angels song thy shepherds heard Is echoing along the years, Thou hast an ever welcome word For human woes and human fears; O fairer than the silver tide And brighter than the morning s flood The light across thy meadows wide, Where Eder s ancient watchtower stood. The plains of life are cold and gray Like those beneath the Syrian stars, Our lips are dumb when we would pray, Our hopes are all defaced with scars, The promise of a perfect world So faintly gleams on distant hills That faith from her strong tower is hurled, And wild despair her bosom fills; But thou, dear town of Bethlehem, Dost promise to our darkened race That heaven s fairest diadem The forehead of mankind shall grace. EDER S WA TCHTOWER. \\\ And we are glad, this Christmas time, That first upon thy starlit hills, Where purple Syrian harebells climb, And drink the freshness of the rills, There shone the sacred Christmas light, And echoed clear the Angels song, That still rings out upon the night Of human misery and wrong. O fairer than the silver tide, And brighter than the morning s flood The light on Bethlehem s meadows wide, Where Eder s ancient watchtower stood. 112 AC A DIA N LEGENDS AND L YRICS. DAY OF THE TRIUMPHANT SUN. IT is the ancient Yule-tide, The time of mirth and cheer; With memories gay, upon his way We ll send the good, old year. We ll deck him out with garlands Of wild vines from the rocks, With holly red, we ll wreathe his head And bind his silver locks. At Yule our Norse forefathers Built high their sacred fires, And in the glow hung mistletoe About their homes and byres; And we their loyal children Ere yet the year is done, This Christmas day will own the sway Of "the triumphant Sun." At Yule the goddess Berchta, When shining Fagrahvel DA Y OF THE TRIUMPHANT SUN. 113 His golden car had driven far The Spring s approach to tell, Walked through the frozen furrows And sprinkled gladness there, While corn and wheat sprang neath her feet Upon the meadows bare. And Odin the creator, His fiery horse astride, O er land and sea rode wild and free To check the Winter-tide; And fountains from their prisons With merry songs burst forth, And warriors gay appeared, to slay The giant of the North. At Yule we deck our houses With wreaths of evergreen, And peace and joy without alloy On every face are seen; The Yule-tide fires are lighted And Yule-tide carols sung, And, loud and low, across the snow The sweet church chimes are rung. 114 A CA DIA N LEGENDS A ND L YRICS, And Christian texts are mingled With holly berries red As through the land, from hand to hand, Fair Christmas gifts are spread. For Christian memories hoary With Norse dwell side by side, And Yule wears now upon her brow The crown of Christmas-tide. MY PUREST LONGINGS SPRING. MY PUREST LONGINGS SPRING. ]\ j\ Y purest longings spring From the divine, The sweetest songs I sing They are not mine. I chisel the rude stone With trembling hand, The statue comes alone At God s command. Beyond earth s tainted air I sometimes fly On wings of faith and prayer; Yet tis not I. Not I but He who lights My flickering creeds; The Power that unites My broken deeds. 116 A CA DIA N LEGENDS A ND L YRICS. Not I but God ; for He, My larger life, Fulfils Himself in me With ceaseless strife. BRO THERHOOD. BROTHERHOOD. HERE S little to choose in this world of ours Twixt the peasant and the King, Tho the monarch feasts with wine and flowers, And wears a goodly ring, While the peasant sports on the village green In a suit of homespun gray; The pleasure of one is just as keen As th^ other s, every way. Each carries a heart that sings and sighs, By turns, as the changes come; Each finds in life some sad surprise, At which his lips grow dumb. Passion and pride and lust and greed Are mixed with the good in each, And deep in his soul is the human need That Heaven alone can reach. The monarch has laws he must obey And burdens he must bear, 118 AC A DIA N L EGENDS A ND L YRICS. lie envies the peasant, many a clay, His lack of kingly care; And both look into the same fair sky, Fenced with its golden stars, And wonder what vast treasures lie Behind those glittering bars. THE A NCIENT GODS A RE DEA D. 119 THE ANCIENT GODS ARE DEAD. HTMIE ancient gods are dead! Jove rules no longer o er the Olympian plain, Old ocean waits for Neptune s car in vain, Apollo tunes no more his golden lyre, Vesuvius trembles not with Vulcan s fire, Mars leads not now the armies of the world, Young Cupid s darts at Pluto are not hurled, And Venus charms are fled. The ancient gods are dead! Valhalla s noble halls are empty now, Where Thor, the mighty thunderer, from his brow Shot lightnings forth upon the trembling earth, And Odin held his wassail, and loud mirth Echoed from roof to roof, as went the feast, Until the day dawned and the waiting east Made radiant Baldur s head. The ancient gods are dead! On Sinai s rugged heights the clouds appear, 120 A CADI A N LEGENDS A ND L YRICS. The prophet goes no longer there to hear The eternal word, nor full of gladness sees Heaven s judgments break on all his enemies. The flower-sprinkled sod at God s command Reeks not with useless blood, nor thro the land His vengeful armies spread. The ancient gods are dead! No Roman despot sits on heaven s throne Dispensing judgments by his will alone; Bids some ascend to heaven, some sink to hell, In arbitrary bliss or woe to dwell. The true God asks no sacrifice of blood, Nor nails His victims to the cruel wood In others guilty stead. The ancient gods are dead! Law rules majestic in the courts above, And has no moods, but hand in hand with love, Sweeps thro the universe, and smiling sees The spheres obedient to her vast decrees. Proclaims all men, not slaves, but sons of God, And breathes the message of His Fatherhood; The true God is not dead. O EASTER QUEEN. 121 O EASTER QUEEN. EASTER, queen of all the days That wear the Church s crown, Upon our troubled human ways Thy calm, fair face looks down. Thou cam st this morning thro the fields And spoke some magic word, And all the plain where harvest yields With pulsing life was stirred. The jacqueminot and tulip gay About thy* pathway pressed, But golden-petaled lilies lay In triumph on thy breast. The messenger of death bowed low To kiss thy conquering feet, Life, trembling, seemed at last to know Her victory complete. Thou earnest to the sleeping town And where the mourner lay, 122 ACA DIA N LEGENDS AND L YRfCS. And joy rose from her prison brown And rolled the stone away. Thou hast the urn whose spices blend To sweeten all the year; O Easter queen, new courage send To us who worship here. O Easter, queen of all the days That wear the Church s crown, To form thy purest aureole-rays, Heaven sends its sunlight down. FOUNTAINS ABBEY. 123 FOUNTAINS ABBEY. T NEVER knew so well how throbbed the heart Of those old centuries we keep apart So eagerly from ours, as when I stood Alone, one Autumn day, in softest mood Beside the ruins England loves so well, Her Fountains Abbey in the vale of Skell. A sea of living meadow far and near Laughed at the menace of the waning year; But like some lonely rock far up the shore, That ne er again shall hear the plash of oar Nor feel the tides, apart from field and wood These ruined walls and broken cloisters stood. Univied pillars here and there aloof, That once had borne the weight of gilded roof, And gothic arch, and heaven-lifted tower, Disdained the threats of time and all its power, And seemed like hoary men who bid us try The courtlier manners of an age gone by. 124 A CA DIA N LEGENDS A ND L VRICS. By ancient buttressed walls I still could trace The Abbey s separate parts, could, keep in place On this side and on that the foaming Skell, Nave, chancel, chapter house, and crypt and cell; A living harmony of chiselled stone, A gothic forest in this valley grown. It was not strange I felt once more the thrill Of the old life, for every place at will Brings back its myriad dead, not ghosts but men, Who take their old tasks up, and walk again The common ways. Alive grew plain and wood With the white robed Cistercian brotherhood. Some tilled the fields, some from the forest came Laden with fresh cut fuel or with game; Some tended glowing ovens deep and wide, Or turned the juicy spit from side to side. Some thoughtful, with the air of high bred men, Cowls back, sat silent, wielding brush or pen. In holy sanctuary, where the east Poured mellow splendors thro the church, a priest With broidered robes at the high altar sung FOUNTAINS ABBEY. 125 A noble mass whose echoes faintly rung Into the raftered gloom and lingered there, Like Skell s own murmurs on the evening air. On traceried windows rich with red and gold, Time honored legends of the Church were told; Martyrs and saints, children of want and fear, Had reached an aureoled existence here. In jewelled splendor, over all, was he Of Bethlehem s manger and Gethsemane. I saw the abbot like a potentate Come riding proudly thro the open gate, While, as he rode, a cowled monastic bore With lifted hands, a silver cross before; And every tonsured brother, low or high, Made reverent gesture as his lord went by. I saw the weary traveller alight Before the abbey walls at dead of night, Too tired to take the bridle from his steed, Too tired to tell the answering monk his need, Or claim the hospitality here given Like Israel s manna or the dew of heaven. 126 A CA DIA N LEGENDS AND L YRICS. The castellated feudal towers that frowned Their moated terrors on the country round, And o er the serf-tilled soil with verdure drest, Proclaimed a sullen sway from east to west, From neighboring woods looked on, amazed to see Such peace, such open hospitality. O golden days, I said, when rich and poor, Knights riding home across the lonely moor, The humblest laborer in field or fen, Princes and cassocked priests and serving men Were ever welcome to an abbey s fires, Its ripening fruits, the fat kine in its byres. O wondrous age, when poets sang their songs In these cool cells, unhindered by the throngs That love not melody. When Science knew A place where, welcome, she might search the blue, Still dome of heaven, or unsuspected pry Amidst the rocks, her field the earth and sky. O happy men, whom cruel, cureless hate, Love unrequited, festering sores of state, The din of clashing creeds, domestic strife, FOUNTAINS ABBEY. 127 The lusts and lies that sicken us of life, Drove here for shelter. Discords as of hell Were hushed within you here beside the Skell. O happy, happy age, too wise to hurl The soul forever back into the whirl Of tempted life. To bid the tired brain Keep ever listening the one refrain That maddened most. Too wise to let men waste All noblest energy in fever haste. O ruined abbey, all the hope and fear Of all the centuries are gathered here, Devotion, brotherhood, and lust and greed, Man s noblest triumph, and his darkest deed. The great world s soul is in these violet blooms Above your nameless monks forgotten tombs. A CA DIA N LEGENDS A ND L YRICS. TO LORD HAMILTON OF DALZELL. TCHED clear against September skies Upon the lowland landscape rise The rugged towers of Dalzell. A stately castle by the Clyde, With parks that stretch on every side, And lime-lined avenues, the pride Of all the sons of Motherwell; In earlier times, with moat and keep, A feudal fortress, stern and steep, It frowned upon the neighboring woods, And challenged hostile chiefs to try Their strength, and watched with jealous eye Cowled monks on stately steeds ride by, And knights with helmets neath their hoods. But now it has no frown, no fear, Its owner is a genial peer, Of soldier sires a soldier son, TO L ORD HA MIL TON OF DALZELL. 129 From whose dark-panelled walls look down Brave men who gained a just renown, Fair women fit for any crown By double right a Hamilton. A liberal mind and liberal heart Are his, how often kept apart In nobles as in humbler men, A thoughtful man who scans the page Of history to know his age, And to the strife of work and wage, Not all unmoved, turns back again. On Scottish soil from sea to sea, Though many castles fair there be, I know not one that blends so well Old types and new. And all the place Seems haunted by the perfect grace Of Lady Emily s sweet face, The dear, dead mistress of Dalzell. Since England s future king and queen Have lately passed her gates between, A royal charm Dalzell has won ; 130 A CA DIA N LEGENDS A ND L YRICS. Yet here within her ivied walls, Her old-world chambers, spacious halls A subtler charm my heart enthralls. Within me flame ancestral fires, Here wakes the blood of all my sires Of the proud race of Hamilton. The scutcheoned panels overhead Recall my ancestors, not dead To me, though ruined abbeys keep Their mouldering dust, and castles gray That once were theirs, to proud decay Are fallen, and time has wiped away The fond inscriptions where they sleep. My Lord, thy hospitality I would repay, would welcome thee Across the ocean where I dwell. And may I not some day return, When Autumn from her golden urn Hath dropped red fires on brae and burn, To thy fair towers of Dalzell ? TO L ORD HA MIL TON OF DA LZELL. 131 So shalt thou still increase my claim (Though mine is an untitled name) To pride in all that thou hast done, And make me prouder still to share With thee the blood that she who bare Me gave. And prouder still to wear The ancient name of Hamilton. SONNETS. O RESTLESS POET SOUL. 135 O RESTLESS POET SOUL. f~\ RESTLESS poet soul that know st no bounds, A world of unspent song lies back of thee; Thou livest in a land of melody For thee earth has no common sights or sounds. With wool the people bid thee stuff thine ears; " Be satisfied," they cry, " with what we teach;" Then laugh, and say: " What is it that he hears ? Song is but song, truth loves staid forms of speech." But thou, with music melting thee to tears, Bring st nobler strains through their fond, fragile creeds, Like one who pipes sweet songs on simple reeds; And thou art deaf to all their frets and fears. Sing then thy strains however poor they be, A world of unspent song lies back of thee. 136 A CA DIA N LEGENDS AND L YRICS. THE AWAKENING. TOO long my soul has lain in sordid sleep Floating on seas whose depths I never knew. At last, aroused, I look into the deep In wonder, all is old, yet, O so new. Love, love, sweet love, what gift is thine to show The soul life s inmost depths, what power To make the hidden currents seen that flow From root to root, from stem to leaf and flower. O, I am row more human with my kind, More reverent, no longer in the sod The home of souls, man s final rest, I find, For my dim eyes behold his source, the God Of whom no sage on earth, no saint above Can say a greater thing than He is love. LOME S SLA VER Y 137 LOVE S SLAVERY. / "^V N the low levels of my love for thee I talk of its pure passion as of chains That bind my soul in gold-linked slavery, A willing bondage, yet not free from pains. But when love once has reached the hill-tops, high Above the murky sphere where " mine and thine " Hold feud forever, all in vain I try To find betwixt our souls a bounding line I would not be thy slave, though servitude To thee exceed rule of another s heart, Bonds chafe, chains clank, and in some moment rude The servant and his lord perforce may part. O love, for us the sweet slave life is done, The perfect union of our souls begun. 1 38 AC A DIA N LEGENDS A ND L YRICS. SEPARATION. 5 r T~MS torture, yet I would not it were less, * Since anguish is the sure tide-mark of love; Say thou art glad, dear heart, at my distress, Thus should I prove thee if twere right to prove. Yet do I truly love thee, selfish fear Is so inwoven with all my thought of thee ? / love, / suffer, O that he were here That he might say again that he loves me. Or should I be so inly glad to know That thou wert suffering, if my love were true; Would love not rather all its own forego Than have the knowledge that thou sufferest too, O agony of love, does life s best bliss Bring always with it questioning like this ? PAIN. 139 PAIN. T KNEW not pain till I bad felt my soul Sweep outward on a wide, wild sea of love, And then had seen the friendly stars above Fade, one by one, and cold, gray silence roll Into the heaven where tender thoughts had hung To light me o er the silver-crested foam. "O shivering soul," I cried, "come home, come home, Night s dews are cold, thy cloak from thee is flung, He loves thee not, or if he loves, he shares His heart with other suppliants beside thee; It is not well in fruitless agony To spend the hours; betake thee to thy prayers." Then bruised and blind my soul turned to the land, But moaned all night upon the yellow sand. 140 AC A DIA N L EG ENDS AND L YR1CS. LOVE LETTERS. WHO keeps not somewhere safely stored away, Like jewels in a casket quaint, from view, A bundle of love-letters, old or new, Yellow with age, or fresh as buds of May. Who, sometimes, in the silence of the night, With stealthy fingers does not draw them forth, Dear, tender treasures, not of common worth, And live the old love o er that suffered blight. Yes, here are mine, not faded yet with years; Sometimes I laugh at the old tender flame That kindled them, but is it any shame To whisper they are wet, to-night, with tears. What strange, persistent power love has to hold Its life, though all its ashes have grown cold. THE VIRGIN S SHRINE. 141 THE VIRGIN S SHRINE. WHO kneels in silent rapture on the sod In open sky, or on the marble floor Of some dark church, his soul s true prayers says o er, Adores the holy motherhood of God. The shrine of Mary is not reverenced less By men whose feet are swift, whose arms are strong, Than by sweet woman souls to whom belong By right maternity and gentleness. All lofty things in our conception meet In the divine, all beautiful and good; The sterner attributes of Fatherhood Alone make not for man a God complete. If we at Mary s altars best may feel God s true maternity, there should we kneel. 1 42 AC A DIA N L EG ENDS A ND L YRICS. IF CHRIST WERE HERE. T F Christ were with us in this restless age, Where light and shade so strangely intermix, To all the woeful clash of work and wage, The complex questionings that minds engage, Men s strifes, could he the meanings true affix ? To any of the sullen, sickening waves Of doubt and death that cross our social seas Could he speak peace? From deep-dug, dreamless graves, Where silken-shrouded lie the world s dead slaves, Could he call back men slain by lust and ease ? O, Master, while we long for thee, and hold Thy love a mantle where our hearts might fold Their aches, we fear that even thou shouldst see The problems of the age too deep for thee. A DREAM OF CHRIST. 143 A DREAM OF CHRIST. i. T DREAMED that Christ was here, and, as of old, The people cried "Jesus is going by "; And I, knowing his time had come to die, Made eager move his passing steps to hold. "In one short hour he will be back," they said, So, waiting, I began to wonder how I should receive him, whether I should bow Low at his feet, nor dare to lift my head, Or, as a man, with human feeling strong, Meeting his fellow man, gives him his hand And says, " Brother," or " Master, I have long Waited the day before you close to stand; " I might, at last, unhindered see and feel The truth about the Christ to whom men kneel. 144 AC A DIAN LEGENDS AND L YRICS. II. Decision quick took shape within my mind To greet the Saviour in a manful way, To look into his deep, soft eyes and say, " Master, thou know st truth is hard to find, The wisest men are blind and lead the blind; Tell us hast thou indeed more light than they ? And he, I thought, a man sincere and kind, Will put aside all strangeness, and obey My wish, and I, at last, shall know what he Believes, and what the grounds of his faith are. So, with a sweet sense of expectancy, As for my dearest friend, I watched afar His coming, till at length I woke alone, And all my hope of finding truth was gone. DEEPENING THE CHANNEL. 145 DEEPENING THE CHANNEL. A ROCKY channel from the harbor led ^~^- The ships to sea, a blue but shallow sound With surging tides, upon whose treacherous bed The keels of heavy vessels ground and ground. The channel must be deepened, men agree, And so, great thunderous blasts of rock they blew, And all the sleepy sands were dredged; till, free From fear, the heaviest ships went swiftly through. We fret and foam, as if our surface tide Was fathoms deep, and never know the truth Till love or sorrow through the water ride, And grate its keel upon the sands of youth; God cleaves the rock beneath the channel blue, And then his noblest ships sail safely through. 146 AC A DIA N LEGENDS AND L YR1CS. MATTHEW ARNOLD. A S he who seeks to know the depths that lie Beneath his feet with patience gropes his way, By aid of scarped cliff and mountain high And fossil fragment new to history, Down to the lowest rocks, once pliant clay, So thou with thy clear penetrating eye Hast looked below the surface mind of man, And, loving truth, hast helped us classify As Glacial or Silurian, thoughts that lie In layers deep with little seeming plan. Yet, too, a poet, far from things like these, Past ruddy Mars and distant Pleiades, To thought s high spheres thou lead st our lagging feet, Where all the plan of life is shown complete. ELISHA MULFORD. 147 ELISHA MULFORD. T KNEW a man (O that he still were here) Who in an age of falsehood cared for truth, Who loved the uncorrupt ideals of youth, And through the shams of later life saw clear. While others worshipped idols he drew near The heart of things, and there into his face God looked, and he in God s, till all the grace That in the aureoles of saints appear Seemed thrown, a rich divineness, round his head, And light such as the old saints never knew Sweept through his mind. The church to thought too dead To feel the worth of men like him, withdrew Her sympathy; " He wages not my strife," She said. But Truth was richer for his life. 148 HARVARD COMMENCEMENT. HARVARD COMMENCEMENT. T \J 1 1 EN Cambridge elms are green, and many an * ^ oar Beneath the Charles muddy wave is dipt, And Boston spires, Venetian-sunset tipt, Watch gliding gondolas from shore to shore, Then doth Fair Harvard open wide her door, And speak her annual welcome, magic-lipped, To all her sons, of age and honors stripped Again, boys still at forty or fourscore. Grave statesmen then drink healths from ruddy bowls, And Freshman follies laughingly recall, And reverend parsons, sober, spare, and tall, Relax the tension of their long-strained souls. O Cambridge elms, O College growing gray, Guard well the secrets of Commencement-day! RETURN TO the circulation desk of any University of California Library or to the NORTHERN REGIONAL LIBRARY FACILITY Bldg. 400, Richmond Field Station University of California Richmond, CA 94804-4698 ALL BOOKS MAY BE RECALLED AFTER 7 DAYS 2-month loans may be renewed by calling (415)642-6233 1-year loans may be recharged by bringing books to NRLF Renewals and recharges may be made 4 days prior to due date DUE AS STAMPED BELOW DEC? 1988 YA 01948 M179875 THE UNIVERSITY OF CALIFORNIA LIBRARY