/ 
 
 A BOOK OF SONG 
 
 C\
 
 A BOOK OF SONG 
 
 BY 
 
 JULIAN STURGIS 
 
 LONDON 
 LONGMANS, GREEN, AND CO. 
 
 AND NEW YORK : 15 EAST le'" STREET 
 1894 
 
 All rights reserved
 
 
 TO THE MEMORY OF 
 
 ARTHUR GORING THOMAS 
 
 ALWAYS MOST WELCOME OF TRUE FRIENDS, 
 
 ALWAYS MOST MODEST OF TRUE ARTISTS, 
 
 I OFFER ALL WHICH MIGHT HAVE PLEASED 
 HIM IN THIS LITTLE BOOK 
 
 762942
 
 PREFACE 
 
 I MUST not send out this little book without a line 
 of thanks to Messrs. BLACKWOOD for their per- 
 mission to print again some twenty of these songs 
 which were first published in their Magazine many 
 years ago. And, seeing that in courtesy I must 
 write this, perhaps I may be pardoned for adding 
 a few words more, to this effect indeed — that I 
 have made songs all my life at happy moments 
 when the mood was mine. The first — which, how- 
 ever, is not to be read here — I wrote down with a 
 pencil borrowed from the nurse who was assisting 
 me to bed (I can dimly recall the surprise and 
 pride and joy) ; the last was made but the other 
 day. It is, of course, open to the critic, if by 
 chance they meet for a moment his glancing eye, 
 to remark that all alike are childish, and so pass
 
 viii PREFACE 
 
 on to a more worthy prey. But since I have 
 been drawn into these brief confessions, this Httle 
 show of egoism, I should like to say, too, that no 
 song in this little book was made for music, an art 
 which I love, like a savage or a babe, with a con- 
 summate ignorance ; yet there are many which I 
 have sung to myself in strict solitude, all on one 
 note. I must have known, I think, some of the 
 joy of the real singer who can both ease his heart 
 and keep the tune. And this may be said, too 
 — that, had I made choice from my songs in my 
 undergraduate days, when some of these were 
 written, I should have admitted more of a com- 
 plexion sad as night ; for in those singing days 
 of the reed voice 'twixt man and boy the subtlest, 
 saddest pleasure may be drawn from converse now 
 and then with our good comrade Melancholy. 
 Together we take the road, and in these mornings 
 of our wayfaring a face once seen in the passing 
 crowd, or the mere amorous air of fleeting Spring, 
 may set us throbbing with a song of love.
 
 CONTENTS 
 
 I 
 
 PAGE 
 
 Song i 
 
 Westerly 2 
 
 Stray Nymph of Dian 3 
 
 A Pageant of the Air 4 
 
 Through the Ivory Gate 5 
 
 A Greek Girl 7 
 
 Agathon 8 
 
 Grapes 12 
 
 A Rosebud 13 
 
 An Apple 13 
 
 Half Greek 14 
 
 An Unequal Game 16 
 
 My Fault 17 
 
 To Althaea Singing 19 
 
 Whence? 20
 
 X CONTENTS 
 
 PAGB 
 
 Boy's Song of Hope 21 
 
 A Moment and Farewell 24 
 
 Looking Backward 25 
 
 A Call to Bathe 26 
 
 Spring Song 27 
 
 A Song of London Spring 28 
 
 Sleep 29 
 
 Joy of the Swimmer ,q 
 
 The Elf-king's Youngest Daughter . . . . 31 
 
 Evening at Hurlingham ,4 
 
 Off Iskanderun ,e 
 
 In Colorado . ^g 
 
 It is Time ,g 
 
 Street Music .... .^ 
 
 40 
 
 At the Opera .... a-> 
 
 A London Song 4, 
 
 A Beating Heart . . .. 
 
 • • 44 
 
 To an Interesting Person . . . . . 4"; 
 
 At her Door _ 
 
 Love in Spring .g 
 
 On a Western River -_ 
 
 Half-hearted .... 
 
 A Moment _, 
 
 Love and the Little Merchant .... 1-4 
 
 A Song for Galatea -_
 
 CONTENTS 
 
 XI 
 
 PAGE 
 
 59 
 
 60 
 
 61 
 
 63 
 
 Winged Joy • ^ . 
 
 A Girl to her Glass 
 So IS THE Story told 
 Thisbe 
 
 E MORTO 
 
 A Song of Proserpine 
 
 After Rain 
 
 To the Lady Portia These 
 
 The Coast of Kent 
 
 A Song of Earth 
 
 65 
 66 
 68 
 
 71 
 
 72
 
 BOOK OF SONG 
 
 SONG 
 
 If I might ride on puissant wing 
 
 The realms of air, 
 What joy were in the journeying, 
 
 Wert thou not there ? 
 
 From star to little star I'd sro 
 
 To seek for thee, 
 Till e'en the clouds that hold the snow 
 
 Would weep for me. 
 
 £
 
 A BOOK OF SONG 
 
 WE STEEL V 
 
 All night the west wind bowed the ships at sea, 
 All nieht the west wind bent the forest tree, 
 
 But now with night the rain has passed away ; 
 And now her hand is glossy as fine silk, 
 And now, with throat as white and soft as milk. 
 
 All westerly my darling's like the day. 
 
 •The burnished pigeons feed beneath the beech , 
 The pastures all athirst have drunk their fill ; 
 
 A stillness holds the world more full than speech, 
 And with the waiting world my heart is still. 
 
 Would I were silk about my darling's wrist ! 
 Would I were air her parted lips that kissed, 
 Or locket of old-fashioned amethyst 
 To rest at her sweet will !
 
 A BOOK OF SONG 
 
 STRA Y NYMPH OF DIAN 
 
 I WENT a-hunting with Queen Dian's maids ; 
 
 Our sandals, bright with dew, 
 Swept through the grass, and down the Hstening 
 glades ; 
 
 Our hounds beside us flew ; 
 On swept the chase, but I stood gazing there, 
 Poor wounded doe beside a thorn- tree fair. 
 
 For there, with fallen blossoms on his head 
 
 I spied the sleeping boy ; 
 The chase had left me breath, but now it fled 
 
 For pain of too great joy ; 
 I panted so, the thong, that crossed my breast 
 And held my quiver, hurt me where it pressed. 
 
 I could not tell if he did smile or frown 
 
 For shadow's fickle play 
 On brow and cheek, and on his lip like down 
 
 A loving shadow lay, 
 And there I set my lips— ah, joy and \TOe ! 
 For now no more a-hunting may I go. 
 
 B 2
 
 A BOOK OF SONG 
 
 A PAGEANT OF THE AIR 
 
 The sailor boy sings out on the ruffled blue, 
 
 The sea bird turns in the air all silver white, 
 A breath of heaven makes the world anew 
 
 For man's delight. 
 
 Like trumpet tones, when angel onset rings. 
 
 The great clouds move from the west, all sailing 
 free, 
 The fluting breeze in the tight cordage sings 
 
 Of ships at sea. 
 
 To find her beauty in the cloud and wave 
 
 My wakened soul goes forth, I know not why. 
 And earth is fair, and heaven is strong to save, 
 
 And glad am I.
 
 A BOOK OF SONG 
 
 THROUGH THE IVORY GATE 
 
 I HAD a dream last night, 
 
 Dream of a friend that is dead ; 
 
 He came with dawn's first light 
 And stood beside my bed : 
 
 And as he there did stand, 
 With gesture fine and fair, 
 
 He passed a wan white hand 
 Over my tumbled hair. 
 
 Saying : * No friendship dieth 
 With death of any day, 
 
 No true friendship lieth 
 Cold with lifeless clay. 
 
 Though our boyhood's playtime 
 Be gone with summer's breath, 
 
 No friendship fades with May-time, 
 No friendship dies with death.'
 
 A BOOK OF SONG 
 
 Then answer had I made, 
 But that the rapture deep 
 
 Did hold me, half afraid 
 To mar that rose of sleep. 
 
 So with closed eyes I lay. 
 Lord of the vision fair ; 
 
 But when 'twas perfect day. 
 Only the day was there.
 
 A BOOK OF SONG 
 
 A GREEK GIRL 
 
 Somewhere have I seen her wander 
 
 Bearing bay and oleander, 
 
 And the soft air murmured round her 
 
 With a deHcate sweet motion ; 
 And from far there followed after, 
 Ringing laughter, mocking laughter, 
 Inextinguishable laughter, 
 Of the merry girls who found her 
 
 Singing by the purple ocean 
 Songs I made for her adorning 
 In the pleasant time of morning.
 
 A BOOK OF SONG 
 
 AGATHON 
 
 Away with me to Athens, Agathon ! 
 There let us stand in idle mood to see 
 Great Phidias' pupils shape the marble fair, 
 
 Till perfect forms by art from chaos won, 
 And garments fine and free 
 Stand cool and clearly lined in violet air, 
 
 Statues and workmen in such beauty clad. 
 
 We cannot pause to judge, but are divinely glad. 
 
 Bright Agathon, again T challenge thee ! 
 
 The shade has reached the wrestlers ; 'tis the 
 
 time 
 For merry play and contest. Hark ! with sound 
 Of laughter rippling, pausing daintily. 
 
 What shouts of welcome chime ! 
 Young Charmides, methinks, doth take the 
 ground, 
 Or naked Lysis, fresh from eager game, 
 Draws down the strigil light o'er breast and limbs 
 aflame.
 
 A BOOK OF SONG 
 
 There let us He and listen too, for know 
 I spied but now amid the olive trees 
 That strange old face we loved a while ago. 
 
 Aye, it was Socrates, 
 Or else a satyr, by some god's gift wise. 
 Leered through the close gray leaves to mock our 
 dazzled eyes. 
 
 Oh that glad eve at supper, when by me 
 He lay and talked, till I was wild with joy 
 
 Of thinking quick new thoughts, nor cared to see 
 The dancing girl from Corinth, nor the boy 
 
 Who bore the wine-jar to us — and 'twas good 
 
 To see thee lie and laugh at my unwonted mood. 
 
 O Agathon, and how we burned that day, 
 
 With yEschylus' great chorus in our ears. 
 To see our queenly vessels far below 
 Ride down and dash to foam the quiet bay, 
 
 And thine eyes turned to mine were bright with 
 tears. 
 
 And all thy face aglow, 
 For the old bard who fought at Marathon, 
 And that our sires were brave when Salamis was 
 won !
 
 lo A BOOK OF SONG 
 
 O friend of mine, call back our friendship's dawn, 
 
 The day I reined my horse on yon steep road 
 Where the long pageant moved in order meet. 
 And boys from lowland lawn 
 Moved upward to the shrine with fragrant load, 
 And 'mid all voices thy voice sang so sweet, 
 That its clear beauty touched my soul like pain, 
 And many deemed, I wis, Harmodius come again. 
 
 Vain, vain, the hope is vain : 
 Our skies are drear, and through the ragged firs 
 A slow cold wind is moaning. Far away 
 From driving clouds and rain 
 A vocal breeze the blue ^gean stirs, 
 
 And o'er its dimpling plain quick sea-birds play; 
 But no Queen Athens in her beauty bare 
 Bathes, warm with golden light, in the clear violet air. 
 
 The city of the pleasant gods is cold ; 
 
 No more the mellow sunlight streams 
 On naked rocks that spring to marble rare ; 
 Temples and legends old 
 
 Are vacant as a poet's vanished dreams. 
 And, though we know the dawn was wondrous fair. 
 Yet by no charm of art nor labour slow 
 Can we bring back the light that died so long ago.
 
 A BOOK OF SONG ii 
 
 My Agathon, we cannot strive with Time ; 
 
 The shadows steal around us, and afar 
 Grows in our ears the moan of ocean gray : 
 Weak hand nor weaker rhyme 
 Can charm again that spirit Hke a star 
 That rose awhile o'er Hellas. Stay, oh, stay. 
 Dear friend ! I cannot bear the days to be. 
 Ah, Hermes, give him back ! Must he too fade 
 from me ?
 
 12 A BOOK OF SONG 
 
 GRAPES 
 
 Come, boy Bacchus, a bunch of grapes — 
 
 The bunch you dearest treasure ! 
 'Twill fill my soul with exquisite shapes, 
 
 For well I know the pleasure 
 Of a rich ripe grape slow pressed i' the mouth — 
 Bringing me dreams of the lusty South, 
 Of sun-brown youth and sun-bright maiden. 
 And all a-laughing, and all a-laden 
 
 With grapes, grapes, grapes beyond all measure!
 
 A BOOK OF SONG 
 
 A ROSEBUD 
 
 Give me a rosebud, Rosebud-lips, 
 Only a rosebud sweet as the giver, 
 
 Fresh as the swallow's joy who dips 
 A slanting wing in the flowing river, 
 
 Fresh as the dawn and dewy wild. 
 
 Rosebud gift of a rosebud child. 
 
 AN APPLE 
 
 Here, little Apple-face, bring me an apple 
 
 Bright as your baby cheek ! 
 
 Let old grave men with an old world grapple ; 
 
 But you be merry, merry and meek, 
 
 Glad as a little careless Greek, 
 
 And like this apple clean and crisp — 
 
 Oh ! how I love your baby lisp, 
 
 And — thank you for the apple !
 
 14 A BOOK OF SONG 
 
 HALF GREEK 
 
 Half Greek adown a Highland glen, 
 
 And singing to the open sky, 
 I passed beyond the ways of men, 
 
 And found my vale in Arcady, 
 
 The bees were drowsy on the slope, 
 The air was, like enchantment, still ; 
 
 And all my heart beat high with hope 
 Of wonders on the Grecian hill. 
 
 The light cloak from my shoulders flew, 
 My bare brown limbs were light and free ; 
 
 The lark, whose rapture thrilled me through. 
 Was but a singing bird to me : 
 
 For I was Greek in Hellas' prime, 
 
 And all the world was young and fair, 
 
 And Greek the bees that robbed the thyme 
 And Greek the charm that held the air.
 
 A BOOK OF SONG 15 
 
 Ah no ! not Greek these Highland hills 
 
 That melt in blue to misty sky, 
 Nor Greek nor glad these hurrying rills 
 
 That sing no songs of Arcady. 
 
 From tree to tree the whisper creeps : 
 ' Look, sister, at the wayward man ! 
 
 His are the eyes of one who sleeps 
 Within the vale Arcadian.' 
 
 ' Hush, hush,' the pine-tree sighs, * and look ! ' 
 The lav'rock peeps from heather sweet, 
 
 And headlong leaps the Highland brook 
 To break in laughter at my feet.
 
 i6 A BOOK OF SONG 
 
 AN UNEQUAL GAME 
 
 A MOMENT of loving and laughter, 
 A glance and a gay good-bye ; 
 
 If you one short week after 
 Forget, then why not I ? 
 
 To you but a moment's feeling, 
 A touch and a tender tone — 
 
 A wound too deep for healing 
 To me who am left alone — 
 
 A wound and an aching wonder 
 That lightly you go from me, 
 
 That we must be kept asunder 
 By the cold abiding sea.
 
 A BOOK OF SONG 17 
 
 MY FAULT 
 
 Mine was the fault, I asked too much of thee — 
 The deeps of love, the heights of constancy. 
 Thy blue eyes, loving laughter, loving love, 
 From friend to friend, pleasure to pleasure rove, 
 And glancing now below and now above thee, 
 Challenge the world, the whole bright world, to 
 love thee. 
 
 Mine was the fault, I asked too much of thee — 
 The brook to yield its bright variety, 
 The skylark of the world to drop for rest 
 To the poor shelter of one lonely breast. 
 I thought to form thee to my nicest measure. 
 And make thee wise and good for mine own 
 pleasure. 
 
 C
 
 1 8 A BOOK OF SONG 
 
 Aye, mine the fault ; but now, since here I fall 
 
 Low on my knees in thy confessional, 
 
 O frolic saint, forgive me ! Not for me 
 
 Is fellowship in thy gay company ; 
 
 But if one hour thou weary of their play, 
 
 Lean on my heart that hour and make my day.
 
 A BOOK OF SONG 19 
 
 TO ALTERA SINGING 
 
 Now am I jealous of things musical, 
 
 And would instruct mine ear 
 In the deep silence of the world to hear 
 
 The withered leaf down fall, 
 And the far pebble shifted on the shore ; 
 
 And I would learn the lore 
 Of babbling rivulets and bubbling springs, 
 The multitudinous murmur of the grass. 
 And notes of all the little birds that pass 
 Till air is rhythmical with pulsing wings : — 
 
 But soft ! My mistress sings ; 
 I ask no more. 
 Enough for me to list her lightest tone ; 
 I hear all music hearing her alone. 
 
 c 2
 
 20 A BOOK OF SONG 
 
 WHENCE? 
 
 Will he come to us out of the West 
 With hair all blowing free ? 
 
 Will he come, the last and best, 
 Over the flowing sea, 
 Prophet of days to be ? 
 
 Aye, he will come ; the unseen choir 
 
 Attend his steps with song, 
 And on his breast a deep-toned lyre, 
 And on his lips a word like fire 
 To burn the ancient wrong. 
 
 Bay-crowned and goodlier than a king. 
 
 With voice both strong and sweet 
 The song of freedom he will sing, 
 And I from out the crowd shall fling 
 My rose-wreath at his feet.
 
 A BOOK OF SONG 21 
 
 4 
 
 BOY'S SONG OF HOPE 
 
 Is morning near? 
 Look out, old watchman, from your towered 
 
 height — 
 Look to the eastern hills ! Is there not light ? 
 The clouds of woe and fear, 
 
 Are they not drifting ? 
 Morning is here, is here, 
 And night is lifting. 
 
 Is morning near ? 
 Old man, thine eyes are dim ; give place to me ! 
 I say the light is up for all to see. 
 
 The golden day draws near, 
 
 And clouds are drifting ; 
 The day, the day is here, 
 And night is lifting. 
 
 Break forth and sing, 
 Hills that leap heavenward for the first sunbeajns. 
 Close pastures, hanging woods, and clear bright 
 streams
 
 22 A BOOK OF SONG 
 
 Where cows stand knee-deep, fields of fair increase, 
 Where men may toil in hope and rest in peace ! 
 Wealth is a little thing 
 
 When clouds are drifting, 
 When dawn is on the wing 
 And night is lifting. 
 
 Make great your song, 
 All men, all women toiling on God's earth ; 
 Though ye be weak, your work of little worth, 
 Though ye have waited long 
 While clouds were drifting, 
 Look up, forget your wrong. 
 Look up, and lift your song, 
 For night is lifting. 
 
 Lift up your gates. 
 Ye cities that have lain in woe and sin. 
 Lift up your gates for light to enter in ! 
 The King of glory waits 
 
 While clouds are drifting ; 
 Lift up your golden gates, 
 For night is lifting.
 
 A BOOK OF SONG : 
 
 Who is the King of glory ? Look afar ! 
 Comes he a warrior from triumphal war ? 
 Ah no ! In country lane and city street, 
 Men shall look up and feel the sunshine sweet 
 Grow round them and increase, 
 
 While clouds are drifting. 
 Who comes our Prince of peace 
 When night is lifting ? 
 
 Eastward we gaze ; 
 The gates of morning, like the opening rose, 
 Blush with his coming ; light grows large and clear ; 
 
 Black night and fear j 
 
 With host of shadowy foes 
 Fly forth before his rays 
 Like clouds adrifting. 
 Who comes to rule our days 
 When night is lifting ?
 
 24 A BOOK OF SONG 
 
 A MOMENT AND FAREWELL 
 
 BIRD, flying far to the ocean, 
 O bird, flying far to the sea, 
 
 1 ask for one buoyant emotion, 
 One thrill of thy rapture for me. 
 
 In the height of the heights were it given, 
 For a moment to hang like a star, 
 
 To see and to know as in heaven. 
 With sorrow and trouble afar — 
 
 To pause in the fulness of being, 
 
 On wings that are spread for my flight. 
 
 To see without trouble of seeing-, 
 And to hie me away to the night.
 
 A BOOK OF SONG 25 
 
 LOOKING BACKWARD 
 
 O MV child love, my love of long ago, 
 
 How great was life when thou and I were young ! 
 
 The world was boundless, for we did not know, 
 And life a poem, for we had not sung. 
 
 Now is the world grown small, and we thereon 
 Fill with mere care and toil each narrow day ; 
 
 Elves from the wood, dreams from my heart are 
 gone. 
 And heaven is bare, for God is far away. 
 
 Canst thou not come and touch my hand again, 
 And I look on thee with grave innocent eyes ? 
 
 Thy God has many angels ; I would fain 
 Woo for one hour one angel from the skies. 
 
 O my child love, come back, come back to me, 
 And, laughing, lead me from the toil and din ! 
 
 Lay on my heart those small hands tenderly 
 And lovingly to let the whole world in.
 
 26 A BOOK OF SONG 
 
 A CALL TO BATHE 
 
 Leap naked from the sunlight warm 
 Down to the cool and clear, 
 
 And thou shalt rise, and in thine arm 
 Thy vanished boyhood bear. 
 
 The dust of travel done away, 
 And rags of worn romance, 
 
 Again shalt thou affront the day 
 With joyful countenance : 
 
 And glad as he who ran aflame 
 By the Greek river's brim, 
 
 Ere the great eagle's shadow came 
 And darkling stooped to him;
 
 A BOOK OF SONG 27 
 
 SPRING SONG 
 
 A BABY joy is awake in my heart, 
 And flutters his wings in song ; 
 
 For now the wintry winds depart, 
 And summer days are long. 
 
 The woods that late were cold and bare 
 
 With jocund babble ring ; 
 Slides on slant fans adown the air 
 
 A bird too glad to sing. 
 
 O buoyant air ! O joyous air ! 
 
 You wake the weary throng. 
 And rhythmical with music rare. 
 And filled with sunshine everywhere, 
 
 You touch our lips to song.
 
 28 A BOOK OF SONG 
 
 A SONG OF LONDON SPRING 
 
 The twigs in the sooty gardens 
 Are touched with a tender green, 
 
 And I think 'tis the prettiest Springtide 
 That ever yet was seen. 
 
 The face at the old club window 
 
 Forgets to scowl as I pass, 
 And out in the park the children 
 
 Roll all in the cool green grass. 
 
 Last night a new shower from heaven 
 Washed all the old world clean, 
 
 And I think 'tis the prettiest Springtide 
 That ever yet was seen.
 
 A BOOK OF SONG 29 
 
 SLEEP 
 
 Beautiful up from the deeps of the solemn sea 
 Cometh sweet sleep to me, 
 From silent cool green deeps, 
 Where no one wakes and weeps, 
 
 Cometh, as one who dreameth, 
 With slowly waving hands. 
 
 And the sound of her garment seemeth 
 Like waves on the level sands ; 
 
 So Cometh Sleep. 
 There is rest for all mankind. 
 When her slow wings stir the wind ; 
 With lullaby the drowsy waters creep 
 To kiss the feet of Sleep.
 
 30 A BOOK OF SONG 
 
 JOY OF THE SWIMMER 
 
 He is glad as a bird on still wings driven 
 
 By a wind that follows free ; 
 Above him the sun in the height of the heaven, 
 
 Beneath him the cool green deeps of the sea. 
 
 He bends his neck in the clear salt water, 
 He spreads his arms to the far bright sun ; 
 
 He dreams a dream of a sea king's daughter, 
 Wayward and hardly won. 
 
 In cave of the sea a mermaid singing, 
 
 A siren voice from an island fair, 
 Out in the tide the seaweed swinging, 
 
 Bird song in the air. 
 
 O salt of the sea, O joy of the swimmer's heart. 
 How dear thou art !
 
 A BOOK OF SONG 31 
 
 THE ELF-KING'S YOUNGEST DAUGHTER 
 
 Down the new-born brooklet dancing, 
 Through the dappled shadows glancing, 
 Foam about her white feet creaming, 
 All her wayward hair out-streaming, 
 Laughing on the laughing water, 
 Dances down the Elf-king's daughter. 
 
 Youngest daughter fair ; 
 All the trees would bend toward her. 
 All the rocks be strong to guard her, 
 All the swaying rushes whisper. 
 And the little grasses lisp her 
 
 Praises everywhere. 
 
 Close around the warm air lingers 
 Lovingly, the while her fingers 
 With a modest upward gesture 
 Seem to draw a shade for vesture 
 
 Of her loveliness : 
 Though, meseems, she moves so purely, 
 Sliding on her path demurely.
 
 32 A BOOK OF SONG 
 
 Gazing with clear eyes serenely, 
 She were clad not half so queenly 
 In a royal dress. 
 
 Now adown the stream she's sweeping ; 
 Now she stays and looks afearing, 
 O'er the ledge of granite peering, 
 Sees the headlong torrent leaping. 
 Sees far down the sullen boulders. 
 While the long locks round her shoulders 
 
 Gather tenderly. 
 Now with little laugh atremble 
 All her shrinking to dissemble, 
 Flashing through the rainbow shower, 
 With her white feet launched below her, 
 And her hair drawn high above her, 
 Swift as lady to her lover 
 
 Down the fall goes she. 
 
 Now, when quiet night has clouded 
 All the river broad and stately, 
 Down the stream she moves sedately, 
 In her soft hair warmly shrouded, 
 Lulled by melody.
 
 A BOOK OF SONG ^^ 
 
 Prone between the dark trees' sicrhing-. 
 Listening to the wheat replying, 
 Dreaming on the dreaming water, 
 Floats the Elf-king's youngest daughter 
 To the dreaming sea. 
 
 D
 
 34 A BOOK OF SONG 
 
 EVENING AT HURLINGHAM 
 
 Like jewels dull the Chinese lanterns shine, 
 Looped on the bosom of the fragrant night ; 
 Music like drowsy wine 
 
 Wooes to delight ; 
 Musing or murmuring low, 
 The men and women come and go 
 From dark to sight. 
 
 Low the Orient lanterns gleam 
 With dim rich light, 
 
 Dreaming a luxurious dream 
 In our Western night ; 
 While in the blue most pure and deep 
 
 Moon doth her vigil keep, 
 And above music murmur and the glow > 
 
 Of lamps hung low 
 Shines, as a beacon light beyond the foam, 
 The star of hope — the star of home.
 
 A BOOK OF SONG 35 
 
 OFF ISKANDERUN 
 
 'TiS May, my love, on the Southern sea. 
 
 And the night comes softly on, 
 And the moon shines fair, as never to me 
 
 A moon of the Northland shone : 
 
 And oh but my heart is beating, love, 
 
 With a passionate dream of thee, 
 And my lips of themselves repeating, love, 
 
 The name that is dear to me ! 
 
 O moon in the mantle of ragged cloud 
 
 That ridest the Northern night. 
 Breathe low to my love in her London crowd 
 
 Of the South and its dear delight : 
 
 Breathe low to my love how the Southern moon 
 
 Leans down to the passionate sea ; 
 Breathe low to my love how the South winds 
 swoon 
 
 On the breast of the passionate sea. 
 
 D 2
 
 36 A BOOK OF SONG 
 
 IN COLORADO 
 
 I DREAM of the dance and the gallant show, 
 Ball-room lights and a scented air, 
 
 Where ladies softly ebb and flow, 
 Silken tide on a marble stair. 
 
 Lilies and ladies as lilies white 
 
 Swaying and playing for my delight. 
 
 Now is the whisper heard again, 
 
 Breathed at the ear in the flying dance, 
 
 Now I recover the fine disdain 
 
 That hurt my heart in a careless glance ; 
 
 A thousand thousand miles away 
 
 I see and I hear these ladies gay. 
 
 The keen air creeps through the wall of logs. 
 And brings me a dream that is light as air ; 
 
 I sleep on the floor with the men and dogs. 
 And dream of a lady that's debonair ; 
 
 Where feet of the dancers come and go. 
 
 She smiles on a man that I used to know.
 
 A BOOK OF SONG 37 
 
 All of a row the snow peaks gleam, 
 Diamond stars of the Western night ; 
 
 With diamond stars from out my dream 
 These ladies pass as coldly bright, 
 
 For morning has come, and the hinds begin 
 
 To go to their labour till eve close in.
 
 38 A BOOK OF SONG 
 
 IT IS TIME 
 
 O LOVE, dear love, must I weep in a lonely room ? 
 O heart, dear heart, is there never a throb for 
 me? 
 Spring flowers enow in meadow and hedgerow 
 
 bloom, 
 And a slow soft light creeps over the sombre 
 
 sea. 
 
 It is time for the goddess to wake- 
 Aphrodite, Aphrodite ! 
 
 It is time to arise from the foam. 
 Awake, awake. 
 
 And go to my darling's home ! 
 
 O born of the sea, step light on thy rosy feet 
 When night is still and there's never a one to 
 hear ; 
 Stand where her window glints in the desolate 
 street, 
 And murmur alow to my love that her lover is 
 near.
 
 A BOOK OF SONG 39 
 
 It is time for my darling to wake — 
 
 Aphrodite, Aphrodite ! 
 It is time for my darHng to love. 
 
 Awake, awake. 
 And tell her I die for love ! 
 
 O love, my love, what will I not dare for thee ? 
 Shall I dive deep down in the pitiless sea for a 
 gem ? 
 Shall I bring the tiger's skin for a girl in glee 
 To sweep, as she dances by, with her garment's 
 hem? 
 
 I am mad for a girl's gray eyes — 
 
 Aphrodite, Aphrodite ! 
 It is time to awake from the foam. 
 
 Awake, arise. 
 And go to my darling's home !
 
 40 A BOOK OF SONG 
 
 STREET MUSIC 
 
 Tpie song rings out a wild wild passionate song — 
 
 love, my love, I spread my wings and away ; 
 Over the sea on wide wide wings and strong 
 
 1 fly to the land of my love, to the light of day, 
 To my Italy — Italy, O sweet land to me, 
 
 I speed on the wings of a song far over the 
 sounding sea. 
 
 Mad music peals and rings in my passionate heart ; 
 My heart is afire for love and the sweet sad 
 smile 
 Of a musing girl who listens with lips apart, 
 
 And wills me away to kneel at her feet awhile. 
 O pale slight girl, my desolate heart to thee 
 Flies hot with a passionate song far over the wild 
 white sea.
 
 A BOOK OF SONG 41 
 
 I am coming, my girl ; I come to the city of flowers 
 fair, 
 To sing with a tremulous voice that thou art 
 more sweet than they — 
 More white than the lily pale on the pale clear 
 violet air, 
 More sweet than the red red rose that faints at 
 the close of day ; 
 I am coming with song and love, with spring and 
 
 the violet bloom, 
 I am coming to find thine eyes like stars in the 
 ilex gloom.
 
 42 A BOOK OF SONG 
 
 AT THE OPERA 
 
 Her woman's heart was given, 
 False heart for a ruby true ; 
 
 Her eyes were made of heaven 
 And sold for the sapphire's blue. 
 
 Diamonds are on the finger 
 
 Where lips have pressed full fond ; 
 Where loving eyes would linger, 
 
 Collar of diamond. 
 
 The old jewel-monger chuckles 
 At the gifts of my lord the earl, 
 
 And he bows to my lady's buckles 
 And her Garagantua pearl. 
 
 But her box the poet passes 
 With a sigh for love astray, 
 
 And he turns from her opera- glasses 
 To the farce that the players play.
 
 A BOOK OF SONG 43 
 
 A LONDON SONG 
 
 My lady's the lily of ladyhood, 
 
 And when she has passed the stair 
 
 The trebled scent of an April wood 
 Is sweet on the troubled air. 
 
 For her be vagrant verse of mine 
 But a wedding of house and land, 
 
 And, wheresoever she hap to dine, 
 A seat at her host's right hand. 
 
 For her be dozen -of-button gloves 
 And dozens of sweet champagne ; 
 
 But never the least of all the loves 
 Will come at her call again.
 
 44 A BOOK OF SONG 
 
 A BEATING HEART 
 
 O EYES of a dreaming maiden, 
 
 O voice of a singing bird, 
 How comes the soul in your music 
 
 Whereby our souls are stirred ? 
 
 There's love in your shy soft glances, 
 There's love on your singing lips ; 
 
 When you play on the grand piano 
 There's love in your finger tips. 
 
 But under the fair white bosom, 
 With a kerchief drawn across, 
 
 A little machine is ticking 
 To reckon profit and loss.
 
 A BOOK OF SONG 45 
 
 TO AN INTERESTING PERSON 
 
 Girl, whose grave enchanted eyes 
 Look a thousand miles away, 
 
 Ne'er shalt thou, so seeming-wise, 
 Love as simpler maidens may. 
 
 Thine are fancies roving fair, 
 Islands of the Southern seas, 
 
 Thine to breathe the unknown air 
 Of the lost Hesperides. 
 
 Thee the siren voices sing. 
 Thee Medusa smiled upon ; 
 
 Thou hast seen the flashing wing 
 High in heaven, Bellerophon. 
 
 Yet perchance some summer morn 
 Thou shalt wake, and waking sigh 
 
 That thy path is all forlorn 
 With no lover's whisper nigh.
 
 46 A BOOK OF SONG 
 
 Will it then suffice to know, 
 
 Though no love disturb thy rest, 
 
 That the passing strangers show 
 An unusual interest ? 
 
 • None,' they say, ' of common men 
 May that lady's lover be;' 
 
 If thou hear their whisper then, 
 Will it be enough for thee ?
 
 A BOOK OF SONG 47 
 
 « 
 
 AT HER DOOR 
 
 A FOOL for my doubting and dreaming, 
 
 And following up and down ! 
 Shall I fill my life with scheming 
 
 For a touch of my lady's gown ? 
 
 Shall I lose the good hours of morning 
 
 For a glance of a careless eye, 
 And take the wage of scorning, 
 
 And wear shame's livery ? 
 
 O footman, O wonder of whiteness 
 
 And diplomatic cockade, 
 O footman of much politeness 
 
 For my lady's lady's maid, — 
 
 As you open the door of her carriage. 
 
 Just tell her I've gone away. 
 But will come to dance at her marriage 
 
 On somebody's happy day.
 
 48 A BOOK OF SONG 
 
 LOVE IN SPRING 
 
 She is fair and she is young, 
 
 As so many a maid has been, 
 As so many a bard has sung 
 
 When in Spring the world was green 
 Ah, how oft have poets sung 
 That a girl was fair and young ! 
 Shall I then sing ? 
 
 No, no, no, 
 Love's a silly thing, 
 And comes and goes with Spring. 
 
 She is young and she is fair — 
 Many a maid is fair as she ; 
 She has coils of yellow hair — 
 Men have painted cunningly 
 Brighter hair in Venice old, 
 Hair that drained the sun for gold. 
 Shall I then try ? 
 
 No, I tell thee, no, 
 Love's a summer sigh 
 And gone ere swallows fly.
 
 A BOOK OF SONG 49 
 
 She is fair ; I cannot tell 
 
 Why I muse on such a thing-, 
 Read her frolic face so well, 
 
 And singing swear I will not sing : 
 Fain would I, as others may, 
 Smile to see her pass my way, 
 And careless sing — 
 
 Tra la la, 
 Love's a silly thing 
 And mars the merry Spring.
 
 50 A BOOK OF SONG 
 
 ON A WESTERN RIVER 
 
 I DREAM a dream of a western land 
 And a flowing river, and borne along, 
 
 With a wall of trees on either hand, 
 I lean my ear to their murmured song ; 
 
 And my heart is at rest on that river fair, 
 
 For never a thought of love is there. 
 
 The stream is full as my heart of peace, 
 The wind is soft as a mother's kiss. 
 
 And wonder and doubt and trouble cease. 
 
 And my heart is at rest, and the cause is this— 
 
 That the forest is filled with music rare, 
 
 But never a note of love is there. 
 
 The moon rides out in the sky at night. 
 
 And the river runs silver all down to the sea, 
 
 And the deep dark woods for my deep delight 
 Breathe odours of unseen flower and tree ; 
 
 And I float and I dream, and in dream I know 
 
 That Love lies drowned in the stream below.
 
 A BOOK OF SONG 51 
 
 His white limbs stir on their gravelled bed, 
 As the heart of the river were beating there ; 
 
 Dark down by the rushes the comely head, 
 And dank are the curls of the sunbright hair ; 
 
 And cold smooth fishes, where dead Love lies, 
 
 Pass on with round unheeding eyes. 
 
 E 2
 
 52 A BOOK OF SONG 
 
 HALF-HEARTED 
 
 If I could love thee, love, a little more, 
 If on no April day thy love would fail, 
 
 If in my golden field were all thy store, 
 And all my joy within thy garden pale — 
 
 Then would I teach my heart to be full fond 
 
 For ever, and a little bit beyond. 
 
 If Spring anemone were not so frail. 
 
 If all the summer long sweet rose were gay, 
 
 If I were true as Arthur in the tale, 
 
 And thou could'st love like Juliet in the play — 
 
 Then would I teach my heart to be full fond 
 
 For ever, and a little bit beyond. 
 
 But as, meseems, I am but wayward-true. 
 
 And wayward-false, fair love, thou seem'st to be. 
 
 As I some day must sigh for something new, 
 And thou each day for life's monotony. 
 
 Turn thine eyes from me ere we grow too fond, 
 
 And let me pass a little bit beyond.
 
 A BOOK OF SONG 53 
 
 A MOMENT 
 
 Down from my window I lean and look ; 
 
 The road is all full of sunlight sweet ; 
 Below me a bird flies fast and afar, 
 
 And his shadow flies on the sunlit street. 
 
 And is it love in my heart, I pray, 
 
 Or the shadow of love from some tender book ? 
 Well, be it love or the shadow of love, 
 
 It passes away as I lean and look.
 
 54 A BOOK OF SONG 
 
 LOVE AND THE LITTLE MERCHANT 
 
 \ 
 Young Love has a shirt of the woven flame 
 
 That clings and burns on the breast, 
 
 Till the heart of the wearer is faint with shame 
 
 And his wild eyes ache for rest. 
 
 And I have been slave of this fierce boy Love, 
 
 And careless of work and gain, 
 For I held no joy in the world above 
 
 The throb and the lull of the pain. 
 
 But now I have bound him, hands and eyes, 
 And shipped him across the seas 
 
 As a bale of remarkable merchandise 
 For inquisitive Japanese. 
 
 And lord of myself and lord of mirth, 
 
 I sing through the working day. 
 For joy that beauty remains on the earth, 
 
 And that Love has been packed away.
 
 A BOOK OF SONG 5^ 
 
 A SONG FOR GALATEA 
 
 Hark ! Is it sound or silence ? The wide sea 
 Is breathless calm, and yet a whisper breathed 
 And died i' the breathing — is it sound or no ? 
 The air is all expectant. See, what light 
 Breaks with the foam afar, with quickening air 
 Laughter and music ! Hither apace they drive, 
 Riot of Nymph and Triton, strange sea-beast, 
 Foam flashed and shaken jewels. Throned o'er all, 
 Fenced from rude sport, yet tuned for merry play. 
 Rides Galatea, fairest maid that charms 
 The wild-eyed sea-birds 'twixt the sea and sky. 
 Galatea, here to thee, 
 Queen of mirth and jollity, 
 Loud we raise our jocund song, 
 Shouting with thy triton throng, 
 Shouting as their horns outring 
 For the pleasant song we sing,
 
 56 A BOOK OF SONG 
 
 Singing loud and clear to thee, 
 Queen of mirth and jollity. 
 
 Aye, perchance, on yonder shore 
 Acis leads his flock once more. 
 Stands and stares across the wave, 
 Hopeful of thy pageant brave ; 
 Aye, perchance, or Polypheme, 
 Where the mountain torrents stream, 
 Slow to think, and slow to move, 
 Slowly feels the tides of love 
 Rising through his monstrous frame. 
 Till his huge lips shape thy name, 
 Galatea, hailing thee 
 Queen of mirth and jollity. 
 
 When young Raphael did stand 
 Lone on Adriatic strand. 
 Peering out across the brine, 
 What saw he save charms of thine .'' 
 Turned he from the Virgin's face. 
 From her sweet religious grace. 
 From the chamber tapestried, 
 From the cloister turned aside. 
 Turned as bridegroom to his bride,
 
 A BOOK OF SONG 57 
 
 And, afire with sea-king's mood, 
 
 Laughed in glory where he stood, 
 
 Calhng loud across the sea : 
 
 ' Galatea, fair and free, 
 
 Let me witch the world with thee ! ' 
 
 I, meseems, am Acis now 
 For one moment's joy, as thou, 
 Tossing all thy tresses free 
 To the wild wind's revelry, 
 Lookest with thy sea-blue eyes 
 Deep to mine. Before me rise 
 Pomps and pageants pure and bright. 
 Meet for Raphael's delight 
 When he passed from cloister dim, 
 Saw thee all in sunlight swim, 
 And so gave his heart to thee, 
 Queen of light and liberty. 
 
 Queen, let me thy pageant greet, 
 Let me plunge to kiss thy feet. 
 And amid thy jocund throng 
 Wind the shell or shout the song, 
 Riding where the leaping waves, 
 High above thy cool green caves,
 
 S8 A BOOK OF SONG 
 
 Toss their flying crests in glee, 
 And the brave breeze fitfully- 
 Brings the goodly smell of brine. 
 , Galatea, make me thine, 
 
 Least of all who sing for thee, 
 Queen of light and liberty !
 
 A BOOK OF SONG 59 
 
 A GIRL TO HER GLASS 
 
 Little face so near, so near, 
 
 Laughing lips and eyes that shine, 
 
 Can it be, my dearest dear. 
 
 All those pretty looks are mine ? 
 
 Laughing eyes, be not too bold, 
 If a man should praise your blue ; 
 
 Men have said, as I've been told, 
 Many a thing that was not true. 
 
 When the sky is clear above. 
 And the earth is green below, 
 
 Better laughter is than love — 
 Love may come or love may go. 
 
 Little lambs are in the grass, 
 
 Little fleeces in the sky ; 
 Everything, where Spring doth pass, 
 
 Pretty is — and so am I.
 
 6o A BOOK OF SONG 
 
 SO IS THE STORY TOLD 
 
 A FAIR head meekly bowed 
 With shy glance after ; 
 
 Voices not over-loud, 
 
 And a low sweet laughter : 
 
 So is the story told, 
 
 Up in the cottage old, 
 Under the smoky rafter. 
 
 A pale girl flushed to red 
 By quick new feeling, 
 
 Yet slow to bend the head 
 For lover's kneeling : 
 
 So is the story told, 
 
 Down 'mid the white and gold. 
 Under the painted ceiling.
 
 A BOOK OF SONG 6i 
 
 THISBE 
 
 She lives in the smoky city, 
 Low down by the railway line ; 
 
 But she asks for no man's pity, 
 Nor cares for verse of mine. 
 
 All day she's hither and thither, 
 And often her work is hard ; 
 
 But som.etimes in fine weather 
 She rests a bit in the yard. 
 
 With her mop and pail behind her, 
 She leans her arms on the wall, 
 
 And hopes that there he'll find her, 
 Her lover strong and tall. 
 
 High in the air above her 
 The great trains outward go, 
 
 And many a lass and her lover 
 May journey to Jericho.
 
 62 A BOOK OF SONG 
 
 But when from the neighbour doorway 
 He comes and leans on the wall, 
 
 The world would be in a poor way 
 If that were not best of all.
 
 A BOOK OF SONG 63 
 
 S 
 
 E MORTO 
 
 A PAINTER painted Death with languid eyes 
 
 Rose-hpped and sweeter than a Hving maid, 
 All laid along with Spring anemones, 
 
 And with the ambushed violet low laid ; 
 And by her side a shadowed stream did flow, 
 And made mute music on the canvas. * Oh,' 
 The painter sighed, ' to lie by that dear head ! ' 
 He sighed for pictured death and found instead 
 Death. He is dead.
 
 64 A BOOK OF SONG 
 
 WINGED JOY 
 
 A PAINTER painted life at a window toward the 
 
 sea ; 
 Live birds flew into the room and chirped as glad 
 
 as he. 
 O life, life, life, the soul is winged as a bird ; 
 There is angel and singing lark, but where is a 
 
 third 
 If the soul of the artist be not a winged thing, 
 To sing i' the dawn, at noon, and at golden eve to 
 
 sing ? 
 ' Give me thine heart,' said the man, ' O bird that 
 
 soarest free ! ' 
 ' Open thy heart,' said the bird, ' and make it a 
 
 nest for me.'
 
 A BOOK OF SONG 6 s 
 
 A SONG OF PROSERPINE 
 
 Her eyes were lights of the morning, 
 Her song of the meadows gay, 
 
 But the dark man at eventide 
 Had stolen her away — 
 
 Away from the sunbright upland, 
 Where the folded sheep are fed, 
 
 Away from her father's cottage door, 
 Away from her childhood's bed. 
 
 And ah, if her mother could see her 
 Who once was glad of her birth. 
 
 And hear her laugh in the gaslight glare 
 A laugh of little mirth.
 
 66 A BOOK OF SONG 
 
 AFTER RAIN 
 
 The rain was all golden at even 
 When the sun rode out on the air, 
 
 A gift and a glory of heaven 
 For travelling folk to share. 
 
 The surly muttering thunder 
 
 Had threatened and passed away, 
 
 Dull clouds had been rolled from under 
 The feet of the passing day. 
 
 Our road was as silver before us, 
 Our hedges alight with gems ; 
 
 The soft blue sky high o'er us 
 Was swept by the angel hems. 
 
 And we were too glad for playing, 
 And we were too sad for tears, 
 
 But only our hearts were praying. 
 As they prayed in childhood's years.
 
 A BOOK OF SONG 67 
 
 And angels of ancient story 
 
 Came forth in ranks untold, 
 Till the gates of the western glory 
 
 Were thronged with the spears of gold. 
 
 And far on the airs of even 
 Came shout and armour-clang, 
 
 And deep in the deeps of heaven 
 An angel trumpet rang. 
 
 F 2
 
 68 A BOOK OF SONG 
 
 TO THE LADY FORT/A THESE 
 
 Quick from fog and frost away, 
 Fly, my song, with greeting gay 
 To fair Belmont's lady fair ; 
 Up, my song, to purer air, 
 Up, as lark doth heavenward spring ; 
 Quick, as swallow dips his wing, 
 Slanting to the summer sea ; 
 Quick, away with frolic glee. 
 Humble greeting, greeting gay 
 To the lady Portia ! 
 
 Fair she is, and passing wise ; 
 She has shapen destinies ; 
 Learning ever, wise to teach. 
 Swift of tongue, and true of speech, 
 Wise in counsel, firm in deed. 
 Helper in man's utmost need. 
 Brave as wise, and true as brave, 
 Quick to feel, and strong to save.
 
 A BOOK OF SONG 69 
 
 Fly, my song, and humbly pay 
 Honour to great Portia ! 
 
 Brave she is, and sweet withal, 
 Queen at life's high festival, 
 Queen of laughter, keen of wit, 
 Quick to aim and sure to hit, 
 Laughing light and laughing ever 
 At the foolish jest or clever, 
 Laughing first and jesting after. 
 For she scarce can speak for laughter 
 Who men's endless folly sees. 
 Antics, inconsistencies ; 
 Wiser than all men, more gay 
 Than a child is Portia. 
 
 Bright on Adriatic sea 
 Plays the sunlight laughingly ; 
 Soft on Belmont's lawns by night 
 Flows and spreads the fair moonlight ; 
 Countless years has Venice stood 
 Steadfast on the shifting flood. 
 Steadfast heart, unswerving will. 
 Noble purpose, matchless skill,
 
 70 A BOOK OF SONG 
 
 Tenderness of moon's soft ray, 
 Splendour of Venetian day 
 Or of Venus' jocund birth, 
 Naught of maHce, all of mirth, 
 Laughter, learning, love, and play, 
 All good things are Portia. 
 
 Hie then song, with favouring wind, 
 And a happy journey find, 
 And, when thou art o'er the trees 
 Of fair Belmont's terraces, 
 Bow thee to thy lady's knife ! 
 Kiss the hand that takes thy life ; 
 Take one kiss and breathe one sigh 
 When she cuts thy cord, and lie 
 In her hand beneath her smile. 
 She will laugh a little while — 
 For she laughs at little things ; 
 Then perchance she'll fold thy wings, 
 And so lay thee on her heart : 
 Then, my song, how blest thou art. 
 On the home of trust and play, 
 On the heart of Portia !
 
 A BOOK OF SONG 71 
 
 THE COAST OF KENT 
 
 The breeze, that stayed to pipe and trill 
 In wires that climb the highway hill, 
 The fluting breeze flies fair and free 
 To frolic with the ships at sea, 
 And sunstruck like a mirror bright 
 The chalk clifl"s leap to sudden light.
 
 72 A BOOK OF SONG 
 
 A SONG OF EARTH 
 
 High in the air the skylarks swing, 
 Like poet's swift imagining, 
 And, while the tremulous air prolongs 
 The lilt and rapture of their songs. 
 The glorious sun in spendthrift mood 
 Pours far and wide his golden flood. 
 Till lost in light those small birds be 
 Notes of one harmony. 
 
 The open downs spread free and far 
 To where the plains of ocean are ; 
 Seaward the fisher boats outspring 
 To take the sunshine on their wing ; 
 Seaward and free the following breeze 
 From play amid the inland trees 
 Leaps like a joy, and wavelets run 
 To meet the sun.
 
 A BOOK OF SONG 73 
 
 Low 'neath the grass the gray-coat mole 
 
 Pushes a soft and silent way 
 To the unseen goal ; 
 
 But e'en beneath his coat of gray 
 That digging friar's heart will sing 
 In praise of Spring. 
 
 White clouds that fleck the blue, 
 
 White sails unfurled, 
 
 Spring comes anew 
 
 To the new world, 
 
 And high in air and 'neath the sod 
 
 The joy of God. 
 
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