99 S 
 
 S8S/& 
 
 IRLF 
 
 SB 272 
 
 
 i^ <v~ 
 
 lit 
 
 s 
 
CALIFORNIAN SONNETS AND POEMS 
 
 
 
Calif ornian Sonnets 
 
 and Poems 
 
 By , 
 MILTON S. STEWART 
 
 NEW YORK 
 
 JAMES T. WHITE & CO. 
 1920 
 
COPYRIGHTED 1919 BY 
 JAMES T. WHITE & CO. 
 
CONTENTS 
 
 Page 
 
 KALI YUGA ii 
 
 CALIFORNIAN SONNETS, PART i 23 
 
 NOT FOR ME 25 
 
 I COULD NOT REACH 26 
 
 HELPLESS ARE WORDS 27 
 
 ARTEMIS ! 28 
 
 OH, LOSE HER NOT 29 
 
 BECAUSE You LOVED 30 
 
 CAN THESE EYES CHANGE ? 31 
 
 RELIEVE ME, GODS ! 32 
 
 Bow DOWN TO THIS 33 
 
 IT Is FOR LOVE 34 
 
 THESE ARE THE WAYS 35 
 
 1 Do NOT SEEK You Now 36 
 
 ALL LIVES ARE PITIFUL 37 
 
 IF You COULD LOVE ME WELL 38 
 
 I CANNOT YIELD 39 
 
 I STROVE TO SAY 40 
 
 I DID NOT HOPE 41 
 
 MY LIFE MAY BE No LESS 4 2 
 
 THIS WEB OF VERSES 43 
 
 CALIFORNIAN SONNETS, PART 2: 
 
 OVER THE BROOK 45 
 
 OH, COMFORT ME ! 46 
 
 IF ARTEMIS SHOULD COME 47 
 
 WILT THOU WITHHOLD? 48 
 
 OH, COME 49 
 
 
WITHIN SOME ISLE 50 
 
 IN THE DEEP MIDNIGHT 51 
 
 THOU WHOM I CANNOT SEE 52 
 
 DESCEND ! 53 
 
 COULD I CREATE THEE 54 
 
 SHE LIVES FOREVER 55 
 
 SOME PICTURE DIM 56 
 
 WE DRIFTED 57 
 
 THE SKY 58 
 
 THE MOON S PALE LIGHT 59 
 
 IVORY FEET ! 60 
 
 1 DREAMED 61 
 
 I LOOKED FOR HER 62 
 
 I PAUSED 63 
 
 I CLIMBED THE STAIR 64 
 
 AMONG THE ROSES 65 
 
 THE SYCAMORES 66 
 
 CALIFORNIA^ SONNETS, PART 3: 
 
 NOT SHE 67 
 
 SHE ROBBED 68 
 
 THOU IN WHOM 69 
 
 THE LIGHTNING 70 
 
 THE BITTER OCEAN 71 
 
 1 ASKED 72 
 
 To SAVE 73 
 
 MY HEART S COMPANION 74 
 
 DISMEMBERED 75 
 
 THE ROSES MOCK 76 
 
 As I REVOLVED THESE WRONGS 77 
 
FAILURE 78 
 
 ANTARYAMIN 79 
 
 OM! 8o 
 
 SEA SONNETS OF SANTA BARBARA 81 
 
 MEDITERRANEAN SONNETS 87 
 
 ON SICILY 8 9 
 
 SONNET ON THE NILE No. i 9 
 
 SONNET ON THE NILE No. 2 9i 
 
 THE PHCENICIAN COAST 92 
 
 To DAPHNE, MY SISTER 93 
 
 ON LEAVING GREECE 94 
 
 OTHER POEMS 95 
 
 SPRING HAS AWAKENED 97 
 
 To A GREEK STATUE ON AN ANTIQUE TOMB. . 98 
 
 SAPPHIC STANZAS J 2 
 
 FRAGMENT IO 3 
 
 TYRANNUS OMNIPOTENS 104 
 
 PAPYRUS LEAF IQ 6 
 
 EPIGRAMS IQ 8 
 
 VERSES IO 9 
 
 To ROBERT BUCHANAN no 
 
 VERSES II2 
 
 APOTHEOSIS OF THE FOOTBALL 114 
 
 COMMENTARY IJ 8 
 
 WATCHER OF SUNSETS 121 
 
 To CELIA THAXTER 122 
 
 IN SICKNESS I2 3 
 
 THE SILENT TEARS 124 
 
SPEAK 125 
 
 MORNING !26 
 
 EVENING 127 
 
 THE DAY S EXHAUSTION 128 
 
KALI YUGA 
 
KALI YUGA 
 
 VISIONS OF THE BLACK AGE 
 
 PLUNGED in tremendous midnight, I lay bound 
 In dungeon darkness, far from wholesome morn, 
 Until at length the heavy chains unwound, 
 My sleep was stirred, and through the Gates of Horn 
 The pale presentment of a dream was born. 
 It was a thing of nightmare that drew near. 
 Big with some shapeless evil and forlorn ; 
 The midnight trembled into waves of fear; 
 Then blasts of chill and frightful breath were blown. 
 And round my sleep the spell of phantasy was thrown. 
 
 II 
 
I dreamed an evil dream that I was lost 
 And wandered on in darkness and alone, 
 
 Until it seemed as if my pathway crossed 
 A wide and sterile field, wherein had grown 
 No other seed but clotted heaps of stone. 
 
 Those wretched lumps were monstrous and alive, 
 Instinct with trouble they could not make known ; 
 
 It was a fearful thing to see them strive 
 
 In that dumb agony, for all were red- 
 Each crawled upon the ground, and as it moved it bled. 
 
 12 
 
Then, as it seemed, a mist of horror rose, 
 Surrounding me by slow degrees with dread 
 
 That coiled its way into my heart and froze; 
 The air turned into poison overhead 
 And weighed me down as with a hand of lead; 
 
 All insects withered up that dared to fly 
 The very birds were shrivelled and fell dead 
 
 A yellow sickness festered in the sky 
 
 And ate the solar orb into a square, 
 While dire contagion spread and scattered everywhere. 
 
Then on my eyes a sudden darkness fell, 
 And standing in that stony field and bare, 
 Amid the glooms of that benighted Hell 
 I heard confused and raving voices swear 
 In maledictions of infernal prayer; 
 And all cried out, but there was one that spoke 
 
 With unctuous platitudes and phrases fair; 
 I heard that sanctimonious voice invoke 
 A triple imprecation on mankind 
 A curse of ruin, guilt and infamy combined. 
 
Then woeful tales and prophecies were told 
 Of how the human race was stricken blind, 
 
 The earth decayed and overgrown with mold 
 Because the sun of reason had declined, 
 While o er the fallen ramparts of the mind 
 
 The shrouded specter of damnation walked 
 With feet that left a burning track behind; 
 
 And then I heard no more of those that mocked, 
 
 But flames burst forth, and faces seem to glare 
 Out from red torture-halls of madness and despair. 
 
I stood beside a vast and open pit, 
 
 A charnel crater full of deadly air, 
 And saw upon the hither edge of it 
 
 Steps leading down into that hateful lair. 
 
 I deemed that hardly any man would dare 
 Even in his most frantic dreams and wild 
 
 To venture willingly upon the stair, 
 Or in that sink of foulness be denied; 
 Yet even now, as if in my despite, 
 The shadow of a man came slowly into sight. 
 
 16 
 
This man in vanity and pride descended 
 
 From stage to stage of that remorseless flight, 
 
 Unknowing where the fatal path portended, 
 For in his hand was an extinguished light, 
 A smoking lamp that seemed to scatter blight 
 
 And poured black rays of solid darkness out. 
 So he went down to the devouring night, 
 
 And its thick folds encompassed him about; 
 
 But presently he fell into a snare 
 His groping hands touched mire, dead slime and human 
 hair. 
 
8 
 
 Deep in the desperate center of the land 
 Death throve and reigned upon a rotting chair: 
 
 He touched the victim with a fleshless hand, 
 And named himself the purchaser and heir 
 Of this man s body that was standing there. 
 
 He claimed and seized his flesh as lawful prey, 
 Unrolling deeds of parchment which declare 
 
 The man was duly sold and sworn away, 
 
 And these he read aloud to legalize 
 And mask iniquity with pretext and disguise. 
 
 18 
 
Oaths, seals and signatures applied to each, 
 
 And each was witnessed and confimed by lies. 
 One was a cunning artifice of speech, 
 
 A legal formula that did devise 
 
 The man s whole head away, with both its eyes; 
 It made a forfeiture of all his breath, 
 
 Reserving it as an especial prize 
 To be corrupted and consumed by Death. 
 One sentence broke his bones, and did not spare 
 To price and portion each with an explicit care. 
 
10 
 
 Then loathsome arms reached upward from the mud, 
 And multitudes of clutching hands prepare 
 
 To strangle him beneath that sea of blood; 
 I heard him cry, and saw his dreadful stare, 
 And then he vanished in a crimson flare. 
 
 But next a woman with a starry crown 
 
 Was standing in his place, and seemed to tear 
 
 In haggard rage the bosom of her gown; 
 
 Her roving glance was eyeless and insane 
 As with shrill voice she laughed because the man was 
 slain. 
 
 20 
 
II 
 
 She yelled aloud, and shook her swollen fist, 
 
 And by her were a dagger and a chain ; 
 Around her head a brood of serpents hissed, 
 
 And stung her forehead with a purple stain; 
 
 Those writhing snakes were rooted in her brain, 
 And lashed the whiteness of her cheeks like whips 
 
 A wreath of fire that bound her brows with pain; 
 And there was foam of frenzy on her lips; 
 But when she stabbed herself I seemed to know 
 That millions were struck down and murdered by the 
 blow. 
 
 21 
 
12 
 
 The wheels of Destiny began to grind, 
 
 And giant winds commenced to rise and blow ; 
 I heard the mainspring of the world unwind, 
 Tall mountains shook, and melted down like snow; 
 Red rivers, spouting in the plains below, 
 Filled up the sea ; wave, earth and sky confounded, 
 
 Roared on in vast and awful overthrow; 
 But I, with havoc and dismay surrounded, 
 Was snatched by whirlwinds shrieking past in strife 
 From death to death, from dream to dream, from life 
 to life. 
 
 1917- 
 
 22 
 
CALIFORNIAN SONNETS 
 
CALIFORNIAN SONNETS 
 
 PART I 
 
 NOT FOR ME 
 
 NOT for me will she wear her bridal veil, 
 Nor shall the sweetness of her love be mine. 
 
 The tendrils of her heart will never twine 
 Intimate round me, but could I prevail, 
 Love s mighty effluence would never fail, 
 
 But glance seek glance like blindness seeking light, 
 
 And meet in swift communion, through the sight 
 Flashing assurances. There was a tale 
 Of such a love as this once told to me 
 
 Half-credulous by hopes that rose in vain ; 
 And therein everything as it might be 
 
 Was told aright, yet I was not to gain 
 The constant kindness of her smile and speech, 
 Her hand to cherish, and her heart to reach. 
 
I COULD NOT REACH 
 
 I COULD not reach her, could not make her see 
 How fair a place for her my heart possessed, 
 
 How half herself in me was manifest; 
 I could not touch her, though she seemed to be 
 Near and familiar as myself to me. 
 
 There was some thwarting veil of things unseen, 
 
 Some blinding darkness coming in between 
 Her and my love s strong importunity. 
 Oh, to rise up in confidence and slay 
 
 This evil thing to cut this darkness through 
 With flashing words like swords to clear the way 
 
 From heart to heart! but so I cannot do 
 Lest she turn further -from me, causing more 
 And blinder darkness than there was before. 
 
 26 
 
HELPLESS ARE WORDS 
 
 WORDS are but helpless, impotent to clear 
 The mists that so obscure me to her sight, 
 
 And wholly helpless are these words I write, 
 Who have no voice to make the Muses hear, 
 No skillful sorcery to draw them near, 
 
 Nor power at all to curb their liberty. 
 
 Yet all desires are gathered up in me 
 To one ambition. How can I not fear 
 To fail in that! What wonder if I cling 
 
 To that one object, when, were it displaced, 
 My life would seem a poor and shrunken thing? 
 
 But other lives go constantly to waste. 
 Why not mine also? Evil eateth soon 
 Even the argent circle of the moon. 
 
 27 
 
O ARTEMIS! 
 
 A GAIN, O Artemis, in circle bright 
 -* Thy heart of silver in the sky appears, 
 And I again look upward to the light 
 
 That shineth sweetly as in former years. 
 I sacrificed upon the hills tonight, 
 
 And lit the fire, and offered thee a prayer, 
 
 And laid fresh flowers upon the altar there, 
 Performing faithfully the ancient rite. 
 Remember, Goddess, that symbolic fire, 
 
 The meaning of the flowers, and let thine aid 
 Fulfill my wish! Thou knowest my desire 
 
 And how I saw thee in a mortal maid. 
 Oh, grant my asking! Yield her heart to me! 
 But yet, in giving, turn it not from thee! 
 
 28 
 
OH, LOSE HER NOT 
 
 OH, never lose her, Artemis, but rise 
 Daily within her! Stand beside the ways, 
 
 Waiting with silver feet and crescent rays 
 And shining shield before her! In her eyes 
 Pour from thy flowing fountain that supplies 
 
 Light to pure hearts, thy dignity ! Dispense 
 
 Over and through her thy calm influence! 
 Let her be perfect in all ways, and wise! 
 But more than all things else may she remain 
 Untouched, unblemished, by the sordid stain 
 Of selfish motives! Nay, if she be strong 
 
 Only in this one thing alone, if she 
 Love all things beautiful and do no wrong, 
 
 True to thy light, it is enough for me. 
 
BECAUSE YOU LOVED 
 
 BECAUSE you loved all lovely things and true 
 And seemed to serve them, doing them no wrong, 
 
 Not seeking to possess, but to belong 
 And wait upon them, I, who loved them too, 
 Saw them abiding, visible in you. 
 
 So when I touched you, as with magic rods 
 
 Magicians touch an image, as the gods, 
 Gifted Pandora, and as lovers do. 
 I crowned you with all goodliness and grace, 
 
 Clothed you in delicate imaginings, 
 As if with light, and looking in your face 
 
 Found intimations there of hidden things. 
 It will be sad if this illusion dies, 
 And lets me look on you with other eyes. 
 
CAN THESE EYES CHANGE? 
 
 CAN these eyes ever change, and on some day 
 Pass you in disregard? Perhaps I dream, 
 
 And love not what you are, but what you seem. 
 If I know but your shadow, can I say 
 Whether I know yourself in any way? 
 
 Perhaps if you stood clear as Truth, instead 
 
 Of veiled in fancies all ungarmented 
 By my illusions I would feel dismay. 
 Yet no ; with doubts like these I am but wound 
 
 Tn blind confusion; and if aught be true, 
 
 I know that I have known some part of you. 
 That part pierced through me like the sudden sound 
 Of far-off music, and I long to see 
 Who that musician is. Can you be he? 
 
RELIEVE ME, GODS! 
 
 "J3ELIEVE me, gods! Some better thing unwind 
 AV Before me! Let some lighter task be found, 
 
 Than constant turning o er and grinding round 
 In hollow circles of the weary mind 
 These hard dry pebbles of my thought! Unbind 
 
 This tangle of confusion that doth press 
 
 Upon my heart with so much heaviness, 
 Choking it up with grief, for I can find 
 No recourse, exit, or alternative 
 
 To this strong hunger of the heart, except 
 The very love it seeks! How can I live, 
 
 Who never cared for common things, but kept 
 Only one hope in life that promisd real 
 Attainment of some tangible ideal! 
 
BOW DOWN TO THIS 
 
 BOW down before this madness; nor disdain 
 To hear me speak, for be assured that none 
 Will ever prostrate thus as I have done, 
 Only to you. Not always to obtain 
 Are offerings like this ; nor soon again 
 
 Will you find ardent love so finely wrought, 
 So delicately tempered with chaste thought, 
 Aesthetic impulse, and the inward reign 
 Of abstract verities. Were you aware 
 How seldom men love so, in reverence, 
 Free from all brutal evil that prevents, 
 And wrongs and injures love, you could not bear 
 To let this pass. Why can you not awake, 
 And love me utterly for Love s own sake? 
 
 33 
 
IT IS FOR LOVE 
 
 IT is for love s own sake that I outpour 
 This great libation of the heart, no less 
 Than for the finding of my happiness. 
 And though perhaps this widely open door, 
 If you still enter not, may close once more, 
 And grow impersonal, yet than can be 
 
 Only when something withers up in me, 
 And that lies empty which was full before. 
 Meanwhile I wander in a dream, and meet 
 
 At every turn some trifle that uprears 
 Your sudden image things wherein a fleet 
 
 And vivid likeness of you disappears ; 
 The garment worn by strangers on the street 
 A look a gesture startles me to tears. 
 
 34 
 
THESE ARE THE WAYS 
 
 THESE are the ways she used to wander through, 
 Seeing the evening sky, while I saw her; 
 I walked beside her here, and only knew 
 
 How altogether sweet the moments were. 
 These are the places where our friendship grew ; 
 
 This is the garden where she gathered flowers, 
 
 And here the hammock, where through quiet hours 
 I swung her slowly as I loved to do ; 
 
 For it was happiness to have her near, 
 Whether in silence or in converse true; 
 
 This is the music she was glad to hear; 
 These are the books she loved and listened to. 
 I cannot understand how she could go, 
 And leave me loaded down with darkness so. 
 
I DO NOT SEEK YOU NOW 
 
 I DO not seek you now, as when the fire 
 Of glad amazement first within me grew; 
 
 I am uncertain what I seek in you, 
 What truth lies hid in this obscure desire. 
 Yet I am ever restless, and aspire 
 
 To some abstract and unimagined thing 
 
 Beyond the power of mortal visioning. 
 You are my symbol of that lost empire, 
 And so I reach through you to unseen light, 
 
 And seek your love still, hoping it possess 
 The precious tincture of poetic sight, 
 
 And some rare inward core of perfectness 
 That would not suffer from the curse primeval 
 By which all outward things are pierced with evil. 
 
ALL LIVES ARE PITIFUL 
 
 ALL lives are pitiful when seen aright 
 In naked poverty and impotence, 
 
 Bound in the narrow coils of circumstance, 
 And cheated by the law that sucks delight 
 From all finalities, and spreads the blight 
 
 Of barren imperfection far and wide 
 
 Forever thwarted and unsatisfied, 
 And ever helpless to redeem their plight. 
 I with all others turn this wheel around, 
 
 Yet search for something lost and half-forgot. 
 May you seek freedom also, but if bound 
 
 To common aims an d ways, then heed me not, 
 For I would lead you to unusual streams, 
 Endless and deep, where beauty flows and gleams. 
 
 37 
 
IF YOU COULD LOVE ME WELL 
 
 IF you could love me well, yet wrongly choose 
 Some lesser thing, Time will not re-create 
 
 Lost opportunity, and so excuse 
 The error of your choice, or compensate 
 Your future years, unless another wooes 
 
 Your heart to sacrifice, with love as great, 
 
 As strange and tender and more fortunate 
 Than this fair gift of mine that you refuse. 
 Is love not in you? Surely it is there, 
 
 And even if no sign of it appears, 
 Sometime perhaps when you are least aware 
 
 It shall come rushing out of you in tears. 
 Be not deceived by things that do you wrong, 
 For paltry aims will not content you long. 
 
I CANNOT YIELD 
 
 I CANNOT yield, or make my will consent 
 To this necessity that robs me so ; 
 
 I cannot yet resign myself to know 
 The utter loss of Love s abandonment; 
 For if he breaks the bow of my intent, 
 
 What wastes of living must I wander through- 
 
 What days of dullness must I waken to! 
 When all seems aimless if it be not blent 
 With him for motive. Will he not compel 
 
 Himself to save himself? And need I fear 
 That he can leave me if I love him well? 
 
 Oh, I will call to him, and hope to hear 
 The flute of Krishna, like an echo fleet, 
 Or some spent arrow falling at my feet. 
 
 3Q 
 
I STROVE TO SAY 
 
 WHEN with imperfect words I strove to say 
 How exquisite a gift I sought from you, 
 
 I did not ask unfairly, since I knew 
 I asked no more than I could well repay, 
 Having no selfish impulse to betray 
 
 Your utmost tenderness, or put to shame 
 
 Love s purity of attribute and aim, 
 Or wrong his gentleness in any way. 
 I loved you outwardly because you wear 
 
 A garment of sweet youth and maidenhood, 
 
 And inwardly, because you understood, 
 And loved all truth and beauty ; yet I swear 
 That these are but sustained and justified 
 By some more noble quality beside. 
 
I DID NOT HOPE 
 
 I DID not hope that even Love could be 
 Complete fulfillment, but that you might share 
 
 My restless search, my passion and despair; 
 That I might turn to you, and daily see 
 The light come in your eyes for love of me, 
 
 And daily take you by the hand, to fare 
 
 On eager search for breaths of purer air, 
 And fading glimpses of divinity. 
 Oh, might we both be children, and explore 
 
 All lovely things! and I would crown your hair 
 With wildflowers such as Proserpina wore. 
 
 And listen to you while your lips declare 
 
 Low-spoken oracles beyond compare, 
 For me to treasure up and ponder o er. 
 
MY LIFE MAY BE NO LESS 
 
 TJERHAPS my life may be no less complete 
 * If from afar I see Love s golden wing 
 
 Beating the azure air and vanishing; 
 Or if I sometimes only chance to meet 
 With fading footprints of his shining feet, 
 
 At which I stop to tremble, and to sigh 
 
 With useless passion at the empty sky, 
 Feeling my heart suffused with impulse sweet 
 
 Of longing and despair. For there would be 
 A greater disappointment and defeat 
 
 If Love half gave, and half withheld from me 
 The boundless sympathy that I entreat. 
 How could I love him truly if he came 
 With scanty gifts, unfaithful to his name? 
 
 42 
 
THIS WEB OF VERSES 
 
 FROM this small web of verses slowly spun, 
 And from the days of careful labor spent 
 In shaping shapeless thought to permanent 
 Poetic forms, and measured words that run 
 In smoothly-flowing music, I have won 
 Some half-glad hours of solace and relief; 
 And some small pleasure fashioned out of grief 
 Rewards, perhaps, the work that I have done. 
 I ask no more than this, if it be true 
 
 That nothing more complete is ever found; 
 And for yourself I give these thoughts that grew 
 
 On mountain tops by moonlight, to repeat 
 And echo through your life-time with a sound 
 Heart-piercing and mysteriously sweet. 
 
 43 
 
CALIFORNIAN SONNETS 
 
 PART 2 
 
 OVER THE BROOK 
 
 OVER the brook great sycamores outspread 
 Their massive arms in arches that uphold 
 
 A roof of fading green, that turns to gold 
 Of autumn leaves all withered up and dead, 
 That loosely hang, and drop from overhead, 
 
 And waver downward one by one, to rest 
 
 Upon the flowing stream, or in some nest 
 Between the stones that fill the canyon bed. 
 These waters murmur of no recompense 
 
 For wasting beauty, nor for my own youth, 
 That rusis away unused. The aching sense 
 
 Of unfulfillment stuns me, and in truth 
 I feel myself a very child, that stands 
 With bruised heart and blindly-reaching hands. 
 
 45 
 
OH, COMFORT ME! 
 
 OH, comfort me from this divine unrest, 
 And slack the tension of the knotted heart! 
 
 Give me sweet peace and silence, and impart 
 Some quiet end of this eternal quest! 
 Carry me back to find my earliest 
 
 And most loved goddess in some lonely spot ! 
 
 O Artemis, do thou forsake me not, 
 But raise me up when I am weariest, 
 And strengthen me with beauty! Shall I now, 
 
 Having this sense of something free and great 
 
 Though half obscure and inarticulate, 
 Desire blurred images less fair than thou? 
 Would that I chose no other love but thee 
 And thy unseen immortal purity. 
 
IF ARTEMIS SHOULD COME 
 
 WHAT if the goddess cometh in disguise 
 Without her slender bow and silver shafts? 
 
 What if she comes in secret, bearing draughts 
 Of moonlight with her, meaning to surprise 
 My heart with sweetness, and reward my eyes, 
 
 That watched and waited through so many years ? 
 
 And if with covered forehead she appears 
 Hiding her crescent, would I recognize 
 And find her out, and knew her, and devise 
 
 Some feeble words of welcome and of prayer? 
 Or would she smile, and suddenly arise 
 
 In purer radiance than I could bear, 
 Until the flood of wonder caught my breath 
 And I fell drowning in the arms of death? 
 
 47 
 
WILT THOU WITHHOLD? 
 
 HOW long, Immortal One, wilt thou withhold 
 All the fulfilled beauty of thy face? 
 Wilt thou not come, star-crowned and aureoled, 
 
 Cloud-robed, misty, with exceeding grace, 
 
 Wide-opening the silver-shedding vase 
 That with unwearied arm thou dost uphold, 
 To offer me some ornament of gold, 
 
 Some shining token from thy treasure-place? 
 Oh, cross this bridge and barrier of Time, 
 
 And come at last, for I have waited long, 
 Assailing thy deaf ears with pleading rhyme, 
 
 Invoking thee in unavailing song! 
 When wilt thou stand before me statue-pale, 
 And with fair hands thy face of light unveil? 
 
 48 
 
OH, COME 
 
 OH, come ! before mechanic Time has paced 
 The measure of my youth, before the rage 
 
 Of vivid impulse fails, when crawling Age 
 Infects the heart, and lays the body waste. 
 I would not stand dishonored and defaced, 
 
 Ashamed before thy beauty, to display 
 
 The sad habilaments of dull decay 
 By which the soul s free spirit is disgraced. 
 When shall thy golden plenitude appear? 
 
 Where is that Spring that I have never seen? 
 Lo ! how I work through dark delusions here, 
 
 And hold but one small leaf of living green ! 
 Come ! Let the barren days be overpast, 
 And these dry branches blossom forth at last ! 
 
 49 
 
WITHIN SOME ISLE 
 
 WITHIN some cloudy island of the west 
 Where Dian comes with all her face alight, 
 
 The arc of flame above her forehead white, 
 The argent rays upon her starry crest 
 If her unearthly form were manifest, 
 
 If I should see her passing in the night, 
 If I should strive to stay her, and arrest 
 
 Her coursing on in silver-winged flight, 
 Would she not slacken in the eager chase, 
 
 But only shine afar and glimmer past? 
 Would she not even pause a moment s space, 
 Or yield one little hand to my embrace? 
 
 If I besought her, would she not at last 
 Unveil the sudden brightness of her face? 
 
IN THE DEEP MIDNIGHT 
 
 IN the deep midnight of my wandering 
 How strange it were how I would be amazed 
 
 To see thee stand with silver spear upraised 
 Or notch the fatal arrow on the string ! 
 Swift from the bow the eager bird would sing 
 
 Straight to my heart, and I would hear behind 
 
 The rushing of the multitudinous wind, 
 And look into the open eyes of Spring. 
 Let Death, the vulture, dip his crimson beak, 
 
 But do thou only linger at my side 
 To lay kind hands of comfort on my cheek; 
 
 So I would fade as flows the ebbing tide, 
 In wide-eyed quietness and perfect rest, 
 Calm as thy sinking crescent in the west. 
 
THOU WHOM I CANNOT SEE 
 
 THOU whom I cannot sec, but only feel, 
 Thou hand invisible to which I cling, 
 High mountain-peak of Poesy, bright Wing 
 Sustaining earthly song thou Chariot-Wheel 
 Of Passion racing to the fair ideal, 
 To thee, O Artemis, I daily bring 
 The fruitage of my life as offering, 
 And hunger toward thee with a vain appeal! 
 O Spirit of all Beauty, are thou here? .... 
 Ah, but she will not answer or appear ; 
 She has no local form nor dwelling-place, 
 No human mother yet can give her birth, 
 But some frail tinctures of immortal grarc 
 Make images of her to haunt the earth. 
 
DESCEND! 
 
 DESCEND, O fairest object of devotion, 
 Whose effluence is on the waves that seethe 
 
 Under the moon, upon the wide-spread ocean! 
 Emerge from dumb abstraction, and unsheathe 
 Thy sword of beauty, thou for whom I wreathe 
 
 Fond words of worship round an empty name 
 
 Pale essence of an unsubstantial flame 
 Invisible as is the air I breathe! 
 
 Thou are as silent as a word unspoken, 
 Impalpable as that white glance of thine 
 That makes the lucid waters move and shine, 
 
 When on the sea the moon s one light is broken. 
 
 Descend upon the earth, and let there be 
 
 Some beautiful embodiment of thee! 
 
 53 
 
COULD I CREATE THEE 
 
 ALMOST it seems that from this heart of mine 
 I conld create thee to the outward sense, 
 Cause chording notes of music to combine, 
 
 And rush together in rich confluence 
 Of clashing harmonies so forceful strong 
 
 As would compel thy birth yea, would condense 
 
 And sound thee into form by violence, 
 In one tremendous tidal wave of song. 
 How else may I obtain thee, and enclose 
 
 Thy viewless essense in a human form, 
 
 Perceptible and personal and warm? 
 How prison it like beauty in a rose? 
 For still I crave a form of thee, complete 
 With eyes and lips, with human hands and feet. 
 
 54 
 
 
SHE LIVES FOREVER 
 
 SHE lives forever in the tones that sing 
 In forest waters; in the fall and flow 
 
 Of liquid echoes that dissolve and go, 
 I hear the ripple of her laughter ring, 
 And her familiar voice sweet-cadencing. 
 
 Hers is the beauty that is bending low 
 
 The humid arch of the celestial bow; 
 She is the harmony in everything. 
 
 I feel her gazing when the skies are blue, 
 And see the sad, short days of winter bring 
 From her the wreathed beauty of the Spring 
 
 A rose, all heavy with the morning dew 
 
 A branching pine-tree when the moon looks through- 
 The flashing upward of a skylark s wing. 
 
 55 
 
 
SOME PICTURE DIM 
 
 OH, might I melt into some picture dim 
 Of cool, green trees and streams and shady rest, 
 Or meet with mighty Love and follow him 
 
 And take his feathered arrow in my breast! 
 
 So might I ease this panting heart, oppressed 
 By such dull sorrow as the skies contain, 
 
 When dark with cloudy grief and somberest, 
 Heavy with unshed tears of summer rain. 
 As I have seen the dark sky rift and break 
 
 When torrent showers of misty gold fell through, 
 So might the rapture of my heart awake, 
 
 So would the ardor of my hope renew, 
 And I be glad for very gladness s sake 
 
 As if the wildest of all dreams were ture. 
 
WE DRIFTED 
 
 WE drifted by an island of old Greece; 
 The yellow sunset wavered on the sea ; 
 We were alone together, I and she, 
 
 And watched the sun with setting orb decrease, 
 
 Till with a smile of glory and of peace 
 
 The sunset brightened, and it seemed there grew 
 A wind of radiance, that streamed and blew 
 
 From the far shining of the Golden Fleece. 
 
 We were alone; the purple ocean lay 
 
 Flushed with the crimson fire, and in the spell 
 Of gloaming silence that around us fell 
 
 We floated slowly on across the bay, 
 And saw the little moon with curved shell 
 
 Drifting above the sunset, far away. 
 
 57 
 
THE SKY 
 
 THE sky that like an irridescent shell 
 Flushed o er the purple sea, at last burned low; 
 Yet in the embers of the clouds there dwell 
 
 Soft, muted colors of the afterglow. 
 
 The moon shot silver from her bended bow, 
 And slanting arrows of the starlight fell 
 Into the dusk and shadow of a dell, 
 Where shy, sweet flowers and tall, red poppies grow. 
 I thought she sat with upturned face and fair, 
 
 And one round shoulder gleaming cold and white 
 O er which the tressed river of her hair 
 
 Flowed darkly, deeply, down into the night 
 Or was it but the fall of shadows there, 
 
 And lilies waving in the pale moonlight? 
 
THE MOON S PALE LIGHT 
 
 A SIFTING of the moon s pale light was shed, 
 Through leaves and branches, and within the 
 space 
 
 O ergloomed with shade, moon-patterned into lace, 
 The violet dreamed, the lily drooped its head, 
 And crimson poppies in the darkness bled ; 
 
 But there was other light in that dim place 
 
 It was the upturned beauty of her face, 
 By which the myriad souls of flowers were fed. 
 For there at last I saw her, and a swell 
 Of fainting music from the asphodel 
 
 Mingled with words I could not understand; 
 Then she was lost in clouds that seemed to chase 
 Dark shadows o er the moon, as waves erase 
 
 A writing sculptured on the ocean sand. 
 
 59 
 
O IVORY FEET ! 
 
 IVORY FEET! O hair of cloudy gold! 
 Ye eyes of splendor that I know so well, 
 Those conscious eyes, that open and unfold 
 
 Like starry blossoms of the asphodel ! 
 
 They are the Shining Ones who sentinel 
 The perfect beauty that no man may hold, 
 The vision burning in my dreams of old, 
 
 The beauty none may conquer or compel. 
 Out of her shining eyes she doth create 
 
 The brightness burning in her silver shell ; 
 But who may see within her heart? Too late 
 
 beautiful but uncompassionate, 
 
 1 know thee as thou art, unearthly cold, 
 A thought divinely fair but desolate! 
 
 60 
 
I DREAMED 
 
 I DREAMED that I awoke and found her gone, 
 Uplifted on the rosy wings of Dawn; 
 I saw the emptiness where she had lain, 
 And startled Joy, fleet-footed as a fawn, 
 
 Sprang sudden from me and was cleft in twain, 
 Transfixed and stopped and in an instant slain. 
 
 I was bereft and utterly alone, 
 And felt the pillars of my life withdrawn, 
 
 And in my dream I heard the ocean moan, 
 For all around me was the voiceful sea; 
 
 Unnumbered tears kept dropping down like rain, 
 And standing there amid enormous pain 
 I shuddered, like some winter-withered tree 
 Swpet by the bitter wind of misery. 
 
 01 
 
I LOOKED FOR HER 
 
 I LOOKED for her among rock-ribbed mountains, 
 I searched for her beside the wave-spread sea, 
 I saw her faint reflection in still fountains, 
 
 But could not clasp it, for it was not she. 
 
 I could not find her, and there seemed to be 
 Some unredeemable and huge mistake, 
 Some dream from which I struggled to awake, 
 
 And my lost joy came never back to me. 
 But I could not forget her, and pursue 
 
 Some vulgar hope and cheerful destiny, 
 Or love my life as happy mortals do, 
 For I was passion-torn and pierced through; 
 
 My life was cadenced in a minor key, 
 
 Actaeon-like, devoured by phantask. 
 
 62 
 
I PAUSED 
 
 IT was a silent house I paused before, 
 Some ruined mansion of departed mirth, 
 
 That stood alone amid exceeding dearth. 
 An antique garland hung beside the door, 
 The wreath that some Greek-hearted lover wore 
 
 When such as he yet lived upon the earth, 
 
 When Love itself was held a thing of worth 
 As it was holden in the days of yore. 
 This was the wreath he had suspended there 
 
 As votive-tribute of the love he bore 
 Because a woman s face had once been fair; 
 This was the wreath that she disdained to wear, 
 These were the leaves that never crowned her hair, 
 
 And now both face and garland were no more. 
 
I CLIMBED THE STAIR 
 
 I TOUCHED the brittle leaves and climbed the stair, 
 And crossed the threshold, meaning to explore 
 
 And with disturbing feet to traverse o er 
 This palace of deserted rooms and bare. 
 But in the central hall I was aware 
 
 That festal cups lay downcast on the floor ; 
 
 Strange desolation seemed to rise and pour 
 From out their hollow rims, and everywhere 
 There was a reek of ruin in the air. 
 Still-statued Silence in that empty hall 
 
 Gloomed fearfully, with long-suspended breath ; 
 Dim shadows crept and gathered on the wall, 
 And I could see descending over all 
 
 The beautiful obscurity of death. 
 
AMONG THE ROSES 
 
 SHE lieth down among the roses red ; 
 The asphodel is on her closed eyes; 
 The richness of her unbound hair is spread 
 Divinely round her, as upon the bed 
 
 She lieth still and cannot move or rise. 
 She lieth still as do the sculptured dead, 
 The light that lay upon her eyes and lips 
 Forlornly faded in obscure eclipse. 
 No more the favor of her eyes is shed 
 Upon my darkness ; in a silver spell, 
 With wreathed roses at her feet and head, 
 The last bright arrow of her glance is sped. 
 Gone is her glory like a star that fell 
 O pale, pure splendor of her eyes, farewell! 
 
THE SYCAMORES 
 
 AS some defeated and defenseless king 
 At last puts off the purple robe he wore, 
 Or stands with hopeless arm upraised to fling 
 His useless crown upon the palace floor, 
 So from its nerveless limbs the sycamore 
 
 Lets fall its old and autumn-withered wreath, 
 That is so faded and forlorn a thing, 
 
 To waste and crumble on the ground beneath. 
 But now the little stream whose waters bore 
 Dead, shipwrecked leaves of the departed Spring 
 
 To be cast upon some deserted shore, 
 No longer flows, no more is murmuring; 
 But in great circles, with outstretched wing 
 The watchful buzzard has begun to soar. 
 
 66 
 
CALIFORNIAN SONNETS 
 PART 3 
 
 NOT SHE 
 
 NOT she who looks on me with worldly eyes ; 
 Not she whose little kindness is outworn, 
 Whom my imagination did adorn 
 Too perfectly for her to realize. 
 Does not her silence even now despise 
 My heart s disclosure? Have I not been torn, 
 And is not hers the bramble and the thorn 
 That in the heart s most nervous tissue lies ? 
 Harsh and insensible, it is not she, 
 Who saw no flame of noble thought arise 
 Upon the altar of my sacrifice, 
 
 But one within her who is yet to be, 
 One great in kindness, who could recognize 
 The larger pride of my humility. 
 
 
SHE ROBBED 
 
 SHE robbed me of irreparable years, 
 And kept the pleasure of her youth from me; 
 Her scarlet anger, like a flame that sears, 
 Shone in the mirror of her eyes, and she 
 Who was the object of my constancy, 
 
 Whom I had hoped for when my heart was strong, 
 Took wretched tribute of the soul s hot tears, 
 
 Consumed the substance of my life with wrong; 
 Hers was the voice that ever in my ears 
 
 Fled like the dying cadence of a song. 
 Yet all my passion was reserved to her 
 Whom still the ardor of my thought pursued 
 In human likeness and similitude; 
 I was her beauty s priest and worshipper. 
 
 68 
 
O THOU IN WHOM 
 
 OTHOU in whom I w6uld, yet cannot, see 
 Some other wisdom than the world has taught, 
 Some spark of spiritual genius, free 
 
 From the small circles of concentric thought, 
 I did not dare demand so much from thee 
 But by strong faith in thy divinity. 
 
 Were I not certain that thy soul had caught 
 
 Some flash of God s great lightning were there 
 
 nought 
 
 But the poor form of unheroic clay, 
 No godlike impulse unsubdued no ray 
 
 Shot by a daimon if thy soul were blind, 
 Could I have held thee in such honor? Nay, 
 
 No doubts would wrong thee if I once could find 
 
 The generous errors of a lofty mind. 
 
THE LIGHTNING 
 
 r l ^HE lightning flashed before him, and he cried, 
 -L "O mine at last!" but then the falling rain 
 
 Beat down in torrents of despair and pain 
 That blotted out and utterly denied 
 All that the flashing hope had prophesied. 
 
 And so the purpose of his life was slain, 
 
 The treasure of his heart poured out in vain, 
 Like water lost upon some desert wide. 
 But Time flowed onward as a tolling bell, 
 And waves of useless objects rose and fell ; 
 
 And he complained, "Oh, hard to be endured ! 
 Confined within this solitary cell 
 
 Of individual life, I am immured 
 Even as beasts in hollow places dwell!" 
 
 70 
 
THE BITTER OCEAN 
 
 BITTER ocean of eternal strife! 
 O piteous seclusion and profound 
 
 Of human islands that the sea flows round! 
 The barriers of individual life 
 
 Shut like the sea about them, and the sound 
 Of isle that shouts to isle the distant cries 
 That from the vastness of the sea arise 
 
 Faint on the voiceless ocean and are drowned. 
 Walled in with solitude, each walks apart, 
 Penned in the strait enclosure of his heart; 
 
 Each is an isle as other islands are, 
 Each in a separate dream of life enfolded, 
 Within the little world his thought has molded,- 
 
 Each has the ocean round him as a bar. 
 
 71 
 
I ASKED 
 
 T ASKED for love that is no slave to pride, 
 
 *- Unangry love, that hath no power to sting, 
 
 Love that is not found wanting or belied, 
 But unreserved and all-surrendering, 
 
 Wherein conjoin and nevermore divide; 
 
 Desire, that thirsteth on unsatisfied, 
 And generous devotion, that doth spring 
 From noble natures in their passioning. 
 
 I asked for love that hath no hard alloy, 
 No gross or mean indignity of will, 
 Nor aught ungracious to estrange and chill, 
 
 Deflower the heart s fair garden, and destroy 
 (As ruthless children trample down and kill) 
 
 The sensitive and fragile bloom of joy. 
 
TO SAVE 
 
 I ASKED sufficiently of love to save 
 The destitution of a life outworn, 
 
 To be the column on whose strength is borne 
 The high entablature and architrave 
 Of heavy-builded years. I did but crave 
 
 Some closer kinship than I yet have known, 
 A love responsive to the love I gave, 
 
 One human heart to mingle with my own. 
 In this vast universe of living things 
 Is there no love to shade me with its wings, 
 No spark of being that to mine is bound, 
 No soul s companion who may yet be found? 
 This is the vision that disturbs my sleep ; 
 For this I waken in the night and weep. 
 
 73 
 
MY HEART S COMPANIONS 
 
 WHERE are my heart s companions, linked to me 
 By ties unbreakable, the friends I hold 
 
 By indissoluble decrees of old? 
 I am the severed branch where is the tree? 
 Where can the likeness of my nature be? 
 
 Or in the starry amplitude of space 
 
 Is there not even a familiar face, 
 Nor any partner in my destiny? 
 For them I err and wander, and obey 
 
 Until the circuit of my exile close, 
 
 Unspent affinity that first arose, 
 Though starved eternities may pass away 
 Till fruitless Time brings forth another day, 
 
 Ripe with divine reunion and repose. 
 
 74 
 
DISMEMBERED 
 
 ALONE, dismembered from my heart s allies, 
 I live surrounded by an alien race; 
 Like some stray star that wanders through the skies, 
 
 Lost from its constellation, and must trace 
 
 Strange pathways through illimitable space, 
 So in this journey that before me lies 
 I move alone amid the alien eyes, 
 
 And bear my solitude from place to place. 
 Yet by the force impelling star to star, 
 
 By the attraction that doth urge and bind 
 Each stellar outcast to its place and kind, 
 I, too, am drawn and guided from afar ; 
 
 Beyond the zodiac I hope to find 
 The shining House where my companions are. 
 
 75 
 
THE ROSES MOCK 
 
 ROSES ! Roses ! ye do mock my sight, 
 Staining the air with fragrance and with fire, 
 Wounding the fainting air with colors bright 
 Yea, stabbing me with beauty and desire. 
 I press my lips upon your perfect bloom, 
 O ardent images of all delight, 
 Kiss with my eyes your crimson leaves and white, 
 
 And in deep sighs your honeyed breath consume. 
 But ah, they wither, waste themselves, and wane, 
 
 Like sickly moons o ertaken by the day ; 
 What ghastly element do they contain, 
 
 By some incredible and fearful spell 
 
 Bending them down to torture and decay? 
 
 Slain with the roses lies the asphodel. 
 
AS I REVOLVED THESE WRONGS 
 
 AS I revolved these wrongs and sorrows o er, 
 Like the vague murmur in an ocean shell 
 
 I heard faint prophesying voices tell 
 Of wave-enwreathed islands, on whose shore 
 All poor and perished flowers are born once more, 
 
 Raise themselves up again to bloom in pride, 
 
 And with their burst and broken hearts untied, 
 The roses, too, their ruined grace restore. 
 There, saith the tale, all hapless things regain 
 
 Their shattered glory and their stricken might; 
 And sometimes, when the many-fingered rain 
 
 Touching the earth, plays music in the night, 
 I sail and search for them in ways forlorn, 
 Led by the lost moon s light, and sunken horn. 
 
 77 
 
FAILURE 
 
 OUT of my failure shall be born success; 
 All true and beautiful desire in me, 
 
 All nobleness of will that I possess, 
 
 Changed by the heart s divinest alchemy, 
 
 Shall recombine, transform and coalesce; 
 
 The pure residuum of thought shall be 
 Merged in immortal form and potency, 
 
 Transmuted into everlastingness. 
 
 Half-deeds and failures scar my life on earth, 
 Yet what I lose shall be another s gain; 
 
 This life that seemeth of so little worth- 
 All I endure of weariness and pain 
 
 Shall be the means in some remote rebirth 
 By which that other shall at last attain. 
 
ANTARYAMIN 
 
 NOT I but thou, O Master of my fate, 
 Shall be the arbiter of loss and gain ; 
 Whether thy unseen hand shall liberate 
 
 Or bind some hopeless hope with bar and chain, 
 
 I dare no longer challenge or arraign, 
 But will endure thy justice, and await 
 
 Whatever destiny thou wilt ordain, 
 Unhappy though it be, and desolate. 
 Even in my most passion I have laid 
 
 This rebel and resisting heart of mine 
 Upon thy formless altar, and have prayed, 
 
 "The unknown issues of my life are thine ; 
 Make due adjustment, yet if it may be, 
 Take not away my one desire from me." 
 
 79 
 
OM! 
 
 NO skill but thine can reconcile and blend 
 All these unequal elements of strife, 
 Untwist the woven errors of a life, 
 
 And fit together, join, repair, and mend 
 
 Each fragmentary part and separate end. 
 Thou art the Self presiding in the heart, 
 The central point from which all things depart 
 
 And into which they circle back, and tend. 
 
 Thou art the sole supporter and the friend; 
 Only thy strong compulsion can unite 
 These scattered rays in one synthetic light. 
 
 Thou art the ladder by which all ascend, 
 The final resting-place upon the height, 
 
 That Silence which no words may comprehend 
 
 80 
 
SEA SONNETS 
 
 OF 
 SANTA BARBARA 
 
 8l 
 
BLUE Summer s breath is in the air today, 
 And moves amid the drifting clouds that lie 
 
 Becalmed within the ocean of the sky, 
 While racing on the beach with manes of spray 
 The white sea-horses throw themselves away; 
 
 They rear and run and stumble, plunge and fly, 
 
 Or, riotous with speed, go dashing by 
 Down the foam-lipped margin of the bay. 
 Faint shadows from the idle clouds are thrown, 
 And shreds of color from the sky are blown 
 
 O er azure meadows of the changeful sea, 
 Where streaked and ribboned with a paler hue 
 The ocean-acres of celestial blue 
 
 Lie blossoming in fair serenity. 
 
E ocean murmurs, and the sea-bells chime. 
 As, rythming in vague immensity, 
 
 The ancient-voiced and tumultuous sea 
 Reiterates from immemorial time 
 Huge tones and harmonics of ocean-rhyme, 
 
 In whose vast, mournful sound there seems to be 
 
 An epic sorrow and monotony, 
 Sea-musical, incessant and sublime. 
 This fluent ocean that is clasped and curled 
 Around the far circumference of the world 
 
 Resounds forever in a wild unrest; 
 Like rushing of innumerable feet 
 The waves fall in confusion and retreat, 
 
 Swelling in slow procession from the west. 
 
 84 
 
THE sea s innumerable voices cry; 
 Its million hands reach upward on the shore; 
 The restless waves besiege the land, and roar 
 
 In gusty passion when they fall and die. 
 
 The breakers roll with arching crests flung high, 
 And plunging on the beach, they ravage o er 
 The worn, wave-tortured sand, and evermore 
 
 They drain and trickle backward with a sigh. 
 
 The ocean lives. Its giant pulses beat 
 Forever in these waves that toil and run 
 Through dateless years, till Time itself be done 
 
 Each in its turn goes downward to defeat; 
 They waver, and are broken one by one . . . 
 
 Still, still the waves their ancient song repeat. 
 
LUE-BOSOMED ocean ! Thou whose tides o erflow 
 The ruin of the world s lost continents, 
 
 Whose waves have poured in stormy affluence 
 Upon the dying and convulsive throe 
 Of isles that sank in terror long ago, 
 
 Sucked down like ships thy waters quest and climb 
 
 And dash forever on the cliffs of Time; 
 The drifting winds sweep over thee, and lo ! 
 There comes the wild, wave-music and the motion 
 
 The echoings of awful harmony 
 
 That men have heard when standing by the sea. 
 And felt their hearts with some divine emotion 
 Lift like the swelling surges of the ocean, 
 
 And move out grandly as the tides to thee. 
 
MEDITERRANEAN SONNETS 
 1907-8 
 
ON SICILY 
 
 THESE are the hills of Sicily, and there 
 Within their circle lies the lovely vale, 
 
 Across whose floor once walked the goddess pale 
 In search of lost Persephone the fair. 
 Then sudden winter hardened in the air, 
 
 And life was withered till the curse was past; 
 But when the Lost One came again at last 
 The land burst into blossom everywhere. 
 Thou wast a grief to Ceres, and since then, 
 
 Because of thee, have many mortals sighed; 
 Yet thou didst comfort her remember when. 
 
 Lost in thy valleys, Athens bled and died; 
 As thou was pitiful and kind before, 
 Could not thy power make good the loss once more? 
 
 Messina. 
 
SONNET ON THE NILE. NO. i 
 
 THOU art the Nile, the River of the Past, 
 whose waters feed the ancientest of lands; 
 
 Thy course is set amid the desert sands, 
 And over thee a glaring heat is cast 
 Down by the sun; but thou dost roll thy vast, 
 
 Slow current ever onward with no haste, 
 
 Making a trail of life across the waste, 
 A winding Horn of Plenty, till at last 
 Thy waves forget the region of their birth ; 
 
 And where they come to rest within the sea 
 No man had heard of any spot on earth 
 
 That was their source, nor guessed where it could be. 
 Thou art eternal, but thy temples rust, 
 Grow old, and fall and crumble into dust. 
 
 Luxor, Egypt. 
 
 90 
 
SONNET ON THE NILE. NO. 2 
 
 THE Stream of History, whose hidden springs 
 Pour year by year their flood upon the plain, 
 
 And put into our hands the endless chain 
 Of all the Past, yet hide the source of things. 
 Thy tombs hold thirty dynasties of kings 
 
 From Menes downward, and a thousand more; 
 
 But who can say how many went before? 
 Thebes is a name; her pride has taken wings; 
 Her hundred gates are now no longer found. 
 
 Upon thy margin cities come and go, 
 Flower, fade and die, and sink into the ground. 
 
 Yet still unchanged thine ancient waters flow : 
 On either side the deserts stretch away, 
 And as it was at first it is today. 
 
 Luxor, Egypt. 
 
THE PHCENICIAN COAST 
 
 I SAIL where sailed the merchant men of Tyre, 
 Where Sidon s captains, searchers-out of gain, 
 
 Bore back their gathered wealth across the main 
 From farthest lands, so great was their desire. 
 And this in them was even as a fire 
 
 That drove them restless over seas unknown, 
 
 And made them leave on barbarous coasts their own 
 Crude, skillful arts, and into all inquire. 
 So from the spoils of traffic and the oar 
 
 Phoenicia s rival towns grew rich and great, 
 And ere their strength was withered up by war 
 
 Their trading daughter-city rose in state, 
 For Carthage was their offspring, as men say, 
 And in her time was prouder far than they. 
 
 92 
 
TO DAPHNE, MY SISTER 
 
 T^VAPHNE, your lovely name still lingers here 
 -L Where your bright namesake changed into a tree; 
 
 Do you recall how pleased you used to be 
 In reading that fair tale? You should be near 
 Perhaps you are, and maybe you can hear 
 
 Well, anyway, in time I know that you, 
 
 If living, would have come to Hellas, too, 
 And loved her purple hills and waters clear, 
 As you loved those old myths. I could have shown 
 
 The road where Theseus came, and pointed out 
 The very spot where Dictys net was thrown; 
 
 "This," I would say, "may be the isle, no doubt, 
 Where Circe dwelt", and then you would have seen 
 lolco* and the fountain of P ^ne. 
 
 Athens. 
 
 93 
 
ON LEAVING GREECE 
 
 I NEVER dreamed our common earth could be 
 So wondrous fair as this, though many a year 
 Some certain instinct taught me to revere, 
 And build up altars in my soul to thee. 
 But now, alas ! the Attic mountains flee ; 
 The rock of Corinth after them retires, 
 And Iris stoops, to tinge with colored fires 
 The crown of Helicon across the sea. 
 
 land immortal, beautiful and bright, 
 
 Land where the Day first blossomed out of Night! 
 
 1 love yet leave thee, looking back in vain; 
 Thy image, though, shall in my heart remain, 
 And thy fair influence be with me yet. 
 Farewell, O Hellas ! I shall not forget. 
 
 94 
 
OTHER POEMS 
 
 95 
 
SPRING has awakened on the hills, and burst forth 
 from the trees in the canyon, but into my heart it 
 has not entered yet. 
 
 Today the golden glory of the world cries loudly. 
 The summer radiance lights up with vivid green these 
 tree-encumbered slopes, and turns to cerulean blue the 
 wide-spread ocean. And the flood of color beats beau 
 tiful upon my sight, but it does not shine into my heart. 
 
 The day fades out to evening, and in the western 
 sky clouds burn in quiet crimson. There is a distant 
 melody of birds; then, as the manifold veils of night 
 descend, darkening the world, deep stillness gathers, 
 but that peace does not enter my heart. 
 
 97 
 
TO A, GREEK STATUE ON AN ANTIQUE TOMB 
 
 T DO not know, yet I will prophesy, 
 
 * And certify, and say, there is no Death. 
 
 No final, lasting loss of aught that lives, 
 
 Is beautiful and loved, for now today 
 
 I dimly see how such a thing may be. 
 
 Thy fairness is not stone, although the rock 
 Bears it upon its surface as a robe; 
 Nor is it Form, although the Form doth hold 
 And fix it on the marble s heaviness, 
 Until the Form itselft doth change away, 
 The fairness of the Form is Mystery, 
 An immaterial Fire, a Force divine, 
 A living Influence or Consciousness, 
 That here hath spread itself upon thy shape, 
 And so become perceptible to me. 
 
I say we love not rocks, nor softest flesh, 
 Nor words, nor deeds, nor anything at all, 
 Except this conscious Force or Entity 
 That clothes the chemic grains and globules fine 
 Sense-moving things of no intrinsic worth 
 With foreign virtues native to itself. 
 
 I say that Conscious Life, intangible, 
 Reaching its mystic rays we know not whence, 
 Reflects itself upon the solid world 
 Through brains and nerves, creating forms and things, 
 And so reveals itself, and is perceived 
 Through brains and nerves again. This influence 
 Is must be deathless. Say the wave subsides; 
 The wind behind blows on, and if the storm 
 Doth also cease at last, it is because 
 Unconscious force was gathered there by chance, 
 With no internal strength, no live desire 
 To hold itself together and cohere, 
 And from an inward source of energy 
 Resist extenrnal friction. 
 
 99 
 
Thou art fair, 
 
 And as thy form wears down and breaks away, 
 The fairness is not lost; I mean to say, 
 Its virtue lies not in the stone at all, 
 But in the Life which made it, and that Life- 
 Its cause, the thing which it doth represent, 
 By which the fairness is, and which it means- 
 Survives, be sure, and can again restore 
 Its visible expression in the world. 
 
 So if thou are the form of one who lived, 
 I think that she is living yet, and may 
 Sometime and somewhere shape another form 
 Expressive of her self, and reappear 
 In semblance no less fair. Or else, if thou 
 Dost only image forth a sculptor s thought, 
 Then his alone thy fairness is, and he, 
 Though long since vanished, may come back again- 
 Be manifest once more and in new forms 
 Delight our eyes with visions of himself. 
 
 100 
 
May it be so ! I cannot say to thee, 
 "Such fairness fades and dies. It is in vain." 
 Thy presence scorns all logic, soothes all doubts, 
 And I can only ask, "How is it saved " 
 Well, T have tried to answer, guessed my guess, 
 And phrase it thus : "Inevitable dec,j * ", " , ., \ 
 Attacks not precious things, things having life 
 And innate loveliness, but only slays 
 The forms and combinations physical 
 Through which these living things are manifest 
 To sight and sense; dissolves and dissipates 
 The instruments of clay, which things with life 
 Each moment mold for transient use, to deck 
 In their lent lovliness and so be known." 
 
 Athens, 1908. 
 
 101 
 
SAPPHIC STANZAS 
 
 ROUND me flock the Hours, and with feet reluctant 
 Pause to watch and pain me with weary visions, 
 Troubled dreams, whose images rise and linger 
 Sighing, beside me. 
 
 ,H,igh < in t heaven ,bu-rneth the gem of Lyra, 
 ;Y<ei .no spjinfi .de^ce,nds from the strings celestial; 
 Long I wait, then turn to the never-fading 
 Diadem royal. 
 
 Underneath its rays I remember dimly 
 All the tale of lone Ariadne s sorrow 
 When she woke in Naxos, beside the ocean, 
 Lying forsaken. 
 
 One by one the Hours are departing slowly, 
 Would that I might see ere they bring the morning 
 Thy loved face upturned in the twilight, softly 
 Gazing upon me. 
 
 Much I long to know of thy presence near me, 
 Hear thy voice and listen the words soft-spoken, 
 Then to take thy hand, and in silence see thee 
 Tenderly smiling. 
 
 Santa Cruz Island, 1906. 
 
 102 
 
FRAGMENT 
 
 RAISE the veil and loose the zone, 
 Still the secret is her own; 
 Each to other is unknown, 
 Each is evermore alone. 
 
 Broken heart and barren bone 
 Harden into heavy stone ; 
 Can the curse be overthrown? 
 Can the struggle and the groan 
 For the severed life atone? 
 
 103 
 
TYRANNUS OMNIPOTENS 
 
 Nineteenth Century Science Dreams about the Nine 
 teenth Century God 
 
 GOD still begrudged men wisdom. Age by age 
 They wrested Truth from His unwilling grasp, 
 And gained more power, while He took little heed 
 But left them to themselves in cold contempt, 
 Save that He still exacted all the tax 
 Of servile worship due from His creation. 
 
 Men grew to know the Master of the Spheres, 
 The Apathy that helped them not at need, 
 And hated Him as Tyrant of the world 
 A sullen Power with sympathy for none, 
 Nor any wish but sacrifice and praise 
 And human adulation. Time went on, 
 And mortals struggled forward step by step; 
 The aid that God denied, each gave to each. 
 And mutual action compassed many things. 
 All gave their lives to Science, laying bare 
 Each detail patiently, in hope to win 
 Some secret of great moment. Some were wise, 
 And these God slew the first, but not before 
 They poured their knowledge out into the world 
 
 104 
 
For those that followed. So it was the race 
 
 Accumulated lore by slow degrees, 
 
 Till Death was subject to their will; and each 
 
 Had leisure to investigate and learn. 
 
 Then they grew mighty, seizing on the hid 
 
 And awful forces of the universe 
 
 For their own use, and God begrudged it all, 
 
 Yet took no heed, in insolence of strength. 
 
 One man there was, most wise of human kind. 
 Whose hand had opened every fastened door 
 That barred his path, and gained the power to turn 
 The planets in their courses. These things done, 
 He dared an awful deed, and sought to find 
 Through silent centuries that power supreme, 
 The Secret of Omnipotence, which gives 
 Infinite rule, and constitutes the god. 
 
 He won the prize divine, and as his hand 
 Was stretched to grasp it, God beheld the act 
 Knew the rebellious purpose, and upraised 
 A blasting bolt, terrific to destroy. 
 
 Too late ! The deed is done, and naught avails 
 To quell the mortal now, grown God indeed; 
 And God, no longer God, is now become 
 A slave to that which He Himself created. 
 
 1906. 
 
 105 
 
PAPYRUS LEAF 
 
 T" 1ST to me, O ye people, for I who speak am wiser 
 -*- even than Pyrrho, son of day-bringing Phoebus, 
 and my words are Truth. 
 
 The Universe is, and was from the beginning, and 
 it extends everywhere without limit, and in it all things 
 c-: : st but Emptiness ; and although it is itself Infinity, 
 yet Infinity does not exist within it. And the Universe 
 is Subsfance, and when Substance was, then also was 
 Time ; and at the same moment Substance moved in 
 Time, and there \vas Motion, out of which we came, 
 raid the world, and into which we shall sometime 
 return again, for this Motion endureth forever, so that 
 nc-hing is immortal. And as Substance moves it 
 changes, and is never twice the same, so that some 
 times it is so fine that no man ever saw it with his 
 eyes, or felt it with his hands; and sometimes it is so 
 thick that it seems not to be; and if you should take 
 twelve pipes and blow upon them all at once, and then 
 do so again, the sound would not be quite the same, 
 for one little note would be different. 
 
 And the motion is ceaseless and eternal, so that 
 somewhere it produces all things; and if a mortal 
 were given wings of light, and power to wander un- 
 dissolvcd in all places, he might leave the stars behind. 
 
 106 
 
and speed through silent years where naught but black 
 ness could be seen in the skies around; he might pass 
 through centuries of fire, through seas more vast than 
 the sky itself, through universes more solid than brass, 
 and other strange sights he would surely see, so many 
 that all would seem the same; but at last he would find 
 the likeness of all that his heart desired, whatever that 
 might be, and escape from all that his soul hated, 
 however far it followed. 
 
 So that all things are, and yet nothing is, for one 
 is as the other. And the things we think are fixed, 
 but happen for a moment, and all things that seem, 
 are but illusions, and none of them are true, but all 
 are uncertain. And we ourselves are but illusions, 
 and to us some illusions seem pleasant, and others seem 
 painful, and the former we seek, and the latter we 
 avoid, but in reality it is not so. 
 
 For each of us is but Substance in Motion, and 
 whiles we seem great and whiles we seem small, and 
 many shapes we take, and sometimes we are, and 
 sometimes we are not, and in many places we arc 
 scattered, and from many sides are we gathered up, 
 and we are different from moment to moment, and 
 yet always we are same. 
 
 This I say, I who am wise indeed, and my words are 
 Truth. 
 
 1905. 
 
 107 
 
EPIGRAMS 
 
 "TT ras non numero nisi serenas" 
 
 * -* Long ago was this motto made for us ; 
 But I would improve it, and have it remain thus 
 "Nisi tecum non numero horas." 
 ****** 
 
 Time has a Golden Touch and with it turns 
 To fairer semblance all he takes away, 
 
 Yet when it once is stored within his urns, 
 No power can bring it back from yesterday. 
 
 Even holiest Helicon, 
 Lofty to look upon, 
 
 Is made, like most mountains, 
 Of sandstone and silicon. 
 
 108 
 
VERSES 
 Prefatory to "Sigurd," by William Morris 
 
 NOW hear of the Sorrow of Odin, and deeds that 
 were done of old, 
 The days of the golden Sigurd, and the curse of the 
 
 ancient gold ; 
 And learn of fair lives wasted, huge woes, and bitter 
 
 shame, 
 
 Of evil begetting evil, and vengeance wrought in vain ; 
 The quenching and bane of the God-kin, and love that 
 
 can no more be said 
 Than the words Allfather whispered in the ear of 
 
 Baldur dead. 
 It tears the heart within us such exceeding griefs to 
 
 hear, 
 The net by the Norns strong-fashioned, and the coming 
 
 of Twilight near; 
 Yet never in human language shall a mightier tale be 
 
 told 
 Till Fenrir s bond be broken, and his chain no longer 
 
 hold. 
 
TO ROBERT BUCHANAN 
 
 B 
 
 iY the western ocean, 
 
 Restless in its motion, 
 Often do I hearken with thy music in my ear; 
 From far away in Britain 
 The words that thou hast written 
 Follow me to where I am and linger by me here. 
 Now thy day is over ; 
 Thou dost never waken, 
 And I may never see thy face or by thy hand be taken. 
 
 The faith that never falters, 
 
 The love that never alters, 
 Both were given thee at first, and kept until the last; 
 
 Noble is the story; 
 
 Great should be the glory, 
 
 For bravely hast thou done thy part, and given all thou 
 hast. 
 
 Though the world begrudged 
 
 Recognition due thee, 
 
 Fame shall grow upon thy dust and honor come unto 
 thee. 
 
 no 
 
Can ever life be wasted, 
 
 The cup be only tasted? 
 
 .\nd can it be that all thy years of song were spent in 
 vain ? 
 
 Are we but deceiving 
 
 Hearts forever grieving, 
 And is the certainty of Hope but sophistry of pain? 
 
 Rather let me fancy 
 
 Thou art past the portals, 
 
 And seeking him, who went before, among the bright 
 immortals. 
 
 Oflcn to thec turning, 
 Patience from thee learning, 
 I who wait while thou art gone find comfort in thy 
 
 name ; 
 
 Surely rest is given 
 To those who long have striven, 
 And gods there are who will not let thy faith be 
 
 brought to shame. 
 Surely thou hast earned 
 All that poets long for, 
 
 The nameless glory singers seek, the gift they give 
 their song for? 
 
 1906. 
 
 in 
 
VERSES 
 (Sec The Last Christians" by Robert Buchanan) 
 
 STORM in the night, Buchanan; 
 A desolate world forsaken, 
 And the dripping eaves of thy dwelling 
 By the crying winds are shaken. 
 
 Long is the night, Buchanan ; 
 
 And the lamp of thy faith lies broken, 
 For thy voice seems lost in the tempest, 
 
 And the dark sends back no token. 
 
 Woe unto thee, Buchanan; 
 
 And woe to thy generation 
 For the withered flowers of the Promise, 
 
 The darkness and desolation! 
 
 112 
 
Yet strengthen thy heart, Buchanan; 
 
 Though the world be worn with weeping, 
 A blessing to us in our blindness 
 
 Is the vigil that thou art keeping. 
 
 For strong is thy voice, Buchanan; 
 
 At times in our ears it is ringing, 
 And the sorrow of loving and leaving 
 
 Is soothed by the sound of thy singing. 
 
 For we know thou art steadfast, Buchanan, 
 Still waiting and dreaming and yearning; 
 
 That thine eyes are still watching the heavens 
 And the fire of thy spirit is burning. 
 
 So peace be unto thee, Buchanan; 
 
 And at least let this comfort be thine, 
 That to us who have listened and loved thee 
 
 Thou thyself art the token and sign! 
 
 1906. 
 
APOTHEOSIS OF THE FOOTBALL 
 
 OH, the merry Stanford football, 
 Scarlet with the blood of Berkeley! 
 Favor me, O Muses, while I 
 Sing this most inspiring subject! 
 
 Once you were an humble parchment 
 Filled with sausage-meat or bacon, 
 Little guessing, little dreaming 
 Of the honor that awaited; 
 And while you were thus adorning 
 Piebald back of pig or puppy, 
 You were doubtless kicked and cursed 
 By the scornful mouths of mortals ; 
 For unlike the hide of Apis 
 There was naught in your appearance 
 That could warn them, or could tell them 
 You were not of common race. 
 
 114 
 
Strange indeed and unexpected 
 Are the lots the gods bestow on 
 Men and dogs and pigs and women, 
 And the destinies they find! 
 Strange indeed but sure and certain 
 Are the dread decrees of Fate. 
 And for you it was determined 
 That you should become immortal 
 That you should become a planet, 
 Shining like the moon at midnight 
 High above the proud and haughty 
 Foreordained a hide most holy. 
 
 So it came to pass that you were 
 Chosen to be made a football; 
 You took on a shape most graceful 
 While they filled your cheeks with Wind 
 You became the flattered sphereoid 
 Used upon the Stanford Oval. 
 
Not a mortal dared to mock you 
 When he saw you shooting skyward 
 As an eagle cleaves the air, 
 Or beheld you falling downward 
 Hit the ground with thump tremendous. 
 Each man knew that when he saw you 
 Hugged so tightly by the players 
 He would straight be torn to pieces 
 If his impious lips derided, 
 If he mocked the God of Stanford. 
 
 Then upon the day of battle, 
 When the clans were all assembled, 
 When the Stanford horns were tootimj 
 And the Berkeley ribbons blew, 
 How the men were filled with fury 
 When you came upon the rield ! 
 How the fighters longed for action, 
 Seeing red in earth and heaven ! 
 
 Greatly on that day immortal 
 Did you justify your redness; 
 How you thinned the ranks of Berkeley, 
 Crushed the outcast race of Berkeley, 
 Smote the foes of Gods and men! 
 
 116 
 
Then your glory was completed, 
 And you were become more sacred 
 Even than you were before. 
 You were raised aloft and lifted, 
 Carried far in fair procession, 
 Finally placed within the temple, 
 There to feed on human worship, 
 Openly proclaimed divine. 
 Last you grew to girth enormous 
 And are now become a planet 
 Shedding light eclipsed never 
 On the faces of the faithful. 
 
 All mankind is now your servant ; 
 Nations bow before your altars, 
 And the priests who tend your worship 
 Are the proudest of the proud. 
 Much I fear your power and glory, 
 And am fain to have your favor, 
 I who sing in pious numbers 
 Of your apotheosis. 
 Grant me then, O orb most mighty ! 
 
 By the Hog from which you came, 
 That I ne er may lose my senses, 
 
 Or neglect to praise the Game! 
 
 Stanford University, 1905. 
 
 117 
 
COMMENTARY 
 
 On "Fine Weather on the Digentia," by Robert Buchanan 
 
 POOR Quintus Horatius Flaccus is dead now, 
 Who believed in the doctrines of Epicurus, 
 And his scandalous verses no longer are read now, 
 
 For his easy opinions have ceased to allure us. 
 He firmly maintained in a long declamation 
 That the "greatest good" lies in mastication 
 (A creed that s well suited, it must be confessed, to 
 A very large part of the men it s addressed to), 
 And he freely admitted a predilection 
 For the drinking of grape-juice without restriction. 
 More indolent-natured than old Omar Khayam, 
 He worried but little concerning "who I am", 
 But studied his feelings ; to ever reform him 
 Was hopeless, and Omar would certainly scorn him. 
 
 Anacreon was more of Flaccus feather, 
 
 Though his (wine) skin was not of Roman leather; 
 
 (There s a difference due, as all admit who know 
 
 man, 
 
 To a natural difference twixt the Greek and Roman) : 
 118 
 
Yft not one of the three but was mighty at drinking, 
 And all spent their lives in describing their thirst; 
 
 The state of their souls was most shocking I m thinking, 
 And I really can t tell you which one was the worst. 
 
 However that may be, pray do not forget this : 
 They lived mid the faults and the sins that beset this 
 World ere the time when Christianity gave it 
 Self-respect, sending Hell and the Devil to save it. 
 Oh, let us give thanks for the times that we live in, 
 Xow that Virtue to Vice is no more known to give in ! 
 Though by the profane I shall scarcely be credited, 
 I svvcar that Koratius would now be unedited, 
 Were it not for the fact that just one man was bold 
 
 enough 
 
 (Perhaps in despair [hat his works had not sold enough, 
 Although to know better he surely was old enough) 
 To depict good Horatius in terms not quite cold 
 
 enough ; 
 
 Or, speaking more strictly, get Flaccus to muse on it, 
 And ihen to translate from the Latin his views on it. 
 Thus, whether or no the good public would look at it, 
 Mr. ROBERT BUCHANAN at once wrote a book at it, 
 Which demonstrates well that few poets have wit 
 
 enough 
 To know when for the good of their name they have 
 
 writ enough, 
 
 For I hav n t a doubt but that this was the one reason 
 He was hated by critics as though he had done treason. 
 
But if Quintus Horatius Flaccus were living here 
 
 He wouldn t have nearly so easy a time of it; 
 (I assure you it s nothing but truth I am giving here, 
 Although I have trouble in making a rhyme of it). 
 He d put milk in his bowl, and would ne er dip a chin 
 
 in it 
 
 Until he were sure there was no trace of sin in it; 
 He would know that if, living yet, grace had not lit 
 
 on him. 
 And his judge after death would be certain to sit on 
 
 him. 
 
 And he s spend all his life in anticipation 
 Of that dreaded post mortem examination, 
 On which would depend his eternal salvation. 
 He would quickly accustom himself to sobriety, 
 And his conduct be always the pink of propriety, 
 Transformed to a shining example of piety. 
 
 So let us be glad that we live in the present times, 
 When all wicked men like Horatius are fled and 
 
 gone ; 
 For although we no longer indulge in such pleasant 
 
 times, 
 
 Yet we hope to make up for it all when we re dead 
 and gone ! 
 
 1905. 
 
 120 
 
WATCHER OF SUNSETS 
 
 WATCHER of lonely sunsets o er the sea, 
 Star-worshipper, I had when I was young 
 
 A poet s heart, but not a poet s tongue. 
 And loved old gods that long had ceased to be. 
 For Greece was my heart s home. The 
 
 Of tall, pure Doric columns soothed my eyes; 
 
 T breathed the azure of Hellenic skies, 
 And her immortal life was strong in me. 
 But as I grew, the heavy Sense of Things 
 Spread over me the shadow of its wings, 
 And soon I saw that Death was sure and strong, 
 That human life is strange and full of wrong, 
 And then I dared not hope to find repose, 
 But sought the living source of human woes. 
 
 121 
 
TO CELIA THAXTER 
 
 GENTLE dreamer, lone and lowliest 
 Of those who sing, how thou dost love the sea 
 
 And those bleak isles that were a home to thee ! 
 Thou art apart from all. Would I possessed 
 Some little share in thy abundant rest! 
 
 Would I might know thy warm and humble heart! 
 
 Would that I were as gentle as thou art! 
 There on those barren isles thy hand caressed 
 Each drooping flower, and pure imaginings 
 
 Filled thee with love of beauty, thoughtful mood, 
 A quiet joy in small and simple things, 
 
 Tinged with the sadness born of solitude. 
 Sweet Celia, thou art haunted Nature s child, 
 Moved by her subtle grace and sorrow mild. 
 
 122 
 
IN SICKNESS 
 
 IF I depart, it is not in disgust, 
 Nor hating life, which seems to me most fair; 
 But all my limbs drag heavy in the dust, 
 
 My body s weight is more than I can bear, 
 And, though the blade is ever free from rust, 
 
 I find the sheath already thin with wear. 
 I chose the best, and knew that it was good, 
 
 And found about me more than others find; 
 I had small time to win the things I would, 
 
 And little was my lore of any kind; 
 That little, even, I could ne er express. 
 
 And now what strength I had has left my hand. 
 I sought Infinity, yet none the less, 
 
 Weary and spent, I sink upon the sand. 
 
 Oct. 1906. 
 
 123 
 
THE SILENT TEARS 
 
 E silent tears that iminvoked arise, 
 
 * Soft messengers of heart divinely human, 
 
 Do but declare that ihou art all a woman 
 
 And yet a child in beautiful disguise. 
 
 Lovely and loving one, unclose thine eyes- 
 Truth s lighted temples, where sweet vows are made- 
 Yet by their glances thou shalt be betrayed 
 
 To conquering arms, until thou dost devise 
 
 A ransoming caress to break the chain, 
 
 And hardly purchase thy release again. 
 
 O fair in face, with fairer, rarer heart, 
 Wherein the fires of rose and lily blend, 
 
 May only happiness be where thou art, 
 Nor any evil on thy head descend. 
 
 124 
 
SPEAK! 
 
 SPEAK ! Become audible, that I may hear 
 The sweetness of thy presence, and rejoice! 
 Cleave the dividing silence and appear! 
 
 Speak ! Let the air be fruitful with thy voice ! 
 Flow forth in potency of sound draw near 
 
 And touch my sense with living tone and word ! 
 
 Speak ! Let thy heart grow vocal and be heard ! 
 Pour like a flood of music in my ear! 
 I wait and listen for the sound of thee; 
 
 Name me my name in thy beloved speech; 
 Send out thy vibrant voice to gladden me; 
 
 Greet me with gracious words, I do beseech, 
 And let the parting of thy lips set free 
 
 The dumbly prisoned thought I cannot reach. 
 
MORNING 
 
 r I ^HE mystic rites and ceremonies rare 
 * That mark the daybreak even now transpire 
 
 Beyond the hills the darkness turns to fire, 
 And soon the breath of Dawn blows faintly there 
 To paint the eastern clouds. Then in his lair 
 
 Apollo stirs and wakes, and lifting up 
 
 His blinding orb from out its golden cup, 
 Ht guides it slowly onward through the air. 
 So dawn by dawn the immortal charioteer, 
 
 Urging his car in upward-speeding flight, 
 Bursts through the clouds and shines upon us here, 
 
 Driving afar the devastated Night; 
 And day by day the liquid skies unfold 
 Before his lyre and burning brows of gold. 
 
 Yosemite, 1909. 
 
 126 
 
EVENING 
 
 r i ^HE ceremonial Hours at last prepare 
 * Their evening sacrifice, and burn away 
 
 The rich, red heart of the expiring Day, 
 While from his breath dissolving in the air 
 The clouds take fire. And then within his lair 
 
 Apollo sinks to rest, and laying down 
 
 His golden rays and thousand-pointed crown, 
 He hides from mortal sight his glowing hair. 
 So ends the ardor of the Day; but soon 
 There rises up the pale and perfect Moon, 
 Walking the waves of melancholy Night, 
 
 And looking downward as she passes by, 
 Trailing upon the sea her robes of white, 
 
 Rolling her hoop of silver in the sky. 
 
 127 
 
THE DAY S EXHAUSTION 
 
 SICK with the day s exhaustion, I would creep 
 Into the soft embrasure of the dark. 
 I would extinguish each familiar mark, 
 And let the rising tidal waters sweep, 
 Engulfing and oblivious and deep, 
 
 O er the subsiding land, till in the surge 
 This time-worn continent of thought submerge, 
 And all be sunken in the waves of sleep. 
 Unfathomable Sleep, thou gift supreme, 
 Encircle me with thine enclosing arms! 
 
 Hide the implacable and weary Day 
 Beneath those sable vesture-folds of dream, 
 And draw me down with drowsy-muttered charms, 
 Soft-breathed words, that whisper me away! 
 
 128 
 
UNIVERSITY OF CALIFORNIA LIBRARY 
 BERKELEY 
 
 Return to desk from which borrowed. 
 This book is DUE on the last date stamped below. 
 
 15Jan54VL 
 EB4 1954 LU 
 
 LD 21-100m-7, 52(A2528sl6)476 
 
YB I 1 803 
 
 894082 
 
 THE UNIVERSITY OF CALIFORNIA LIBRARY 
 
iiii lii P 
 
 liinili