Sunshine and THE LIBRARY OF THE UNIVERSITY OF CALIFORNIA LOS ANGELES SUNSHINE AND SHADE Sunshine and Shade BY THOMAS P. NICOLL Author of " Last Leaves" " An Aerial Opera and Other Poems" etc. ABERDEEN WILLIAM SMITH b' SONS 1914 ^0 £.J. ' Kind hearts are more than coronets, And simple faith than Norman blood " Tennyson y pmr 0-~s . NOTE Included in this volume (after careful revision) are various old favourites, which, lingering only in the memories of a few local lovers of the Muse, are otherwise inaccessible, having long since passed out of print. CONTENTS Prelude, Lyrics of Childhood, ... Love Lyrics, Sonnets : Reform, ... True Love, To the Sea, Town and Country, A Sea Fancy, Night, The Storm (Three Sonnets), Spring, Rev. Andrew Chahners, J. C. Barnett, William Stewart, Charles Shirreffs, The Mystery of Life, ... The Past, Shakespeare, Death of Burns, Page II IS 27 37 38 39 40 41 42 43 46 47 48 49 SO 51 52 53 54 CONTENTS Miscellaneous Poems : Page Sunset, ... 57 A Winter Song, ... 60 An Hour with Nature t ... • t • • ■ • • • 62 On Hearing a Bird Sing Early in February, ... 64 By the Dee, ... 65 Love and War, ... . • ••• . * * 66 Death •» •*. *•• 68 Resigned, .. 70 June, . . 72 To the Moon, •» ••• •«• 75 A Morning Walk, , , ,,, ,,, 77 Human Life, *•• ••« 79 Friendship, . . ■ . ■ ... 80 Compensation, ... ... ... 81 The Graveyard, ... .* ..« ... 83 The Roses, • • • * • * • * 86 A Hymn of Jesus, ■ • ... • < . 88 Solitude, . . 92 In Memoriam : Ex-Provost Mearns, 95 In Memoriam : Peter Mitchell, 97 In Memoriam : W. G. Walker, 98 On a Beautiful Old Lady, lOI Rest, • • • . . .•* >. * 102 PRELUDE I have a faith — it cheers me 'midst my cares — That in some after time my simple lays May carry comfort to the darkened heart, And wake an echo in some kindred soul ; I know that 'mongst the glorious Kings of Song I never shall be ranked, that round my brow The Poet's fadeless crown will never twine ; But yet I have a faith that still to some The songs wherewith I cheered my lonely heart, While cleaving for myself a painful way Thro' mortal life to happier fields beyond, May prove mild ministers of peace and hope, A glad-voiced streamlet from a source unknown. LYRICS OF CHILDHOOD 1874-1877 LYRICS OF CHILDHOOD But a Babe — a tiny thing, Frail as firstling of the spring ; But a babe, yet who may guess Looking in its little face, What in dim futurity By it may accomplished be, What of everlasting good May blossom from its brain and blood. 15 But a babe— and yet a gem From Love's radiant diadem, An immortal spark of light From the central Infinite; Dowered with glory brighter far Than golden sun or silvern star, Richer in Divinity Than earth or air, than sun or sea. But a babe — a thing of tears, Endless wants and groundless fears, Clinging to its mother's breast, Fount divine of food and rest ; Sacred couch, by Heaven spread, Divinely sweet and hallowed. Dainty Dearling, rest thee there. While to God we breathe a prayer. That thy future life may be One of chaste felicity, i6 Rich in all the graces rare Of the perfect Good and Fair, Fraught with blessing unto man, Glory to the Eternal One ; Unto whose abounding grace We commit thy tenderness, Full of happy hope and faith That dreads nor time, nor fate, nor death. II Happy Dreamer, darling child. What rare visions undefiled Hover o'er thy dawning mind, As in sleep thou rest'st reclin'd — Warmly bright and softly still. As a sunbeam on a hill ; While sweet peace divinely lies On thy lovely lips and eyes — 17 Bovvers so fair did peace, I trow, Never linger in till now. O, my own, my heart's delight. What pure visions exquisite, Tint with such celestial glow, Thy downy cheeks and marble brow. Ha ! thou frownest, can it be Evil hath a home in thee ? No, my child, the maiden moon. In the night's all solemn noon. Brooding o'er the tranced sea. Sooner ill may dream than thee. Now thou smilest sweet again, Sweet as sunshine after rain, While thine eyes of azure ope Like the lovely eyes of Hope, Full of all things good and fair Clear as heav'n when heav'n is clear. i8 And thine arms so soft and round, Fondly to my bosom bound, Like snowy dove that seeks its nest ; Come, my darling, to my breast. Coo me o'er thy visions all — Father's image, sweet wee Paul. Ill Head I've seen of rarer mould, Rayed with richer locks of gold, Cheeks and lips of finer dye, Whiter brow, diviner eye, Fairer figure, finelier set. On limbs of mould more exquisite, For to children oft is given A grace like habitants of heaven, Gems of God's infinite art, Flowers from the Eternal Heart. 19 Yet thou hast beauties too my child, My Emily, my undefiled, My ruddy rosebud, rath and wild — And in thy form, and in thy face, I see enough of loveliness To touch the heart, and tune the lyre To loftier flights than I aspire ; For unto thee belongs the eye That looks at once afar, and nigh, The firm-set lips and massive chin, Which speak of latent power within, The bold, broad brow, and bearing high That noteth true nobility ; The well-knit frame and action free Which give and gather energy, In brief, thy form and face declare The buddings of a character That, fully-blown, may place thy name Upon the glorious scroll of fame. 20 And then thy moods, now wild and free- Joy's full-orbed revelry, — Anon as stolid and sedate As the fixed face of Fate ; Now a smile, and now a scowl, A lark this moment, next an owl ; Kind and cruel, and grave and gay, All in the compass of a day ; Yet, but rightly understood Tending ever to the good ; For all thy moods are but the storm Of chaos working into form ; The varied elements of power Slowly rounding to a tower Of lasting strength, at least to me, Such seems thy nature's destiny. 21 IV Sweet wee lady, father's pride, Dear to him 'bove all beside ; Sweet wee lady, mother's pet, Dainty, darling Margaret, With thy winsome winning ways. Thou hast won my stoic praise ; Woke within my heart so hard All the lover and the bard. Rare Antique — altho' so young, Thou hast barely found a tongue ; Babe and woman both in one, Youth and age in unison ; Fresh as daisy, blithe as lark, Yet as ancient as the Ark. Ne'er in verity, I trow. Breathed a better babe than thou, 22 Mind as placid as the moon, Heart as sweet as flowers in June, Actions ever fair and even As the motions of th' heav'n. Sure to them who gave thee birth Thou'rt the sweetest thing on earth ; And the harvest of thy smiles. Rich reward for all their toils. Guileless Dreamer, may no smart Ever blight thy happy heart ; But thy life serenely move. And thy death a glory prove ; This my prayer, sweet Margaret, Father's pride, and mother's pet. LOVE LYRICS 1877 LOVE LYRICS I Oh ! why was woman made so fair If not for fancy's firing ; Why such a grace in every air If not for man's admiring? Oh ! why was woman made so sweet, So sense and spirit moving, So altogether exquisite, If not for deepest loving ? 27 Oh ! why was woman made so pure^ So lofty, yet so lowly ; So rich in love, in faith so sure. If not not for rev'rence holy ? Ah ! say not then, sour, cynic sage, We waste our time pursuing ; What is a year, — what were an age. Should vict'ry crown our wooing ? II The saffron sun sinks slowly down Behind yon castle grey. And clouds of loveliest tint and form Adorn the dying day. The river glides serenely by Towards the sounding sea, And sweet the mottled mavis pours The wine cup of his glee. 2% A soft breeze breathes o'er hill and dale, And through the leafy bower; And earth is fragrant with the scent Of forest, field, and flower. A sweeter hour, a fairer scene, No man may wish to see, Yet all its beauty were at best A passing dream to me, Had Heaven not blessed me with thy love. My heart's unfading rose — The golden blossom of my bliss. The balm of all my woes. Ill She is so fair, so good, so rare. That were I not to love, I'd be all mortals far beneath. Or very far above, 39 B And passing to my daily task, I gather from her smile A hope that cheers my lonely heart, And glorifies my toil. Tho' sometimes doubts will rise, for ah ! My fortune is forlorn. So chanceth it, my golden hope Of half its beams is shorn. Yet cling I to this clouded hope. And trample down despair, For wot we not from blackest night Comes morning white and fair. IV Her every word winds round my heart Like summer sunshine golden, And wakes in every throbbing part Some mem'ry rich and olden. 3° O, deep's the mystery of Love — The human heart is soundless — I feared no more its bliss to prove, But find my fears were groundless. I'm young again, beneath her eye The ice of years dissolveth ; And back to love's first ecstasy My heart again revolveth. O Love, from thy pure fountain streams A joy that faileth never ; And whoso basketh in thy beams Retains his youth forever. They dinna ken, I canna tell The love I hae for thee ; 'Tis spotless as yer bonnie sel', 'Tis deeper than the sea. 31 They dinna ken, I canna sing, Hoo fair ye are tae me ; But sure I am nae earthly thing Is half sae fair as thee. They dinna ken, they canna ken, Hoo sweet ye are tae me ; For never, never, can my pen Unfauld yer witcherie. They dinna ken, I canna paint Hoo pure ye are tae me ; But heav'n, I trow, has ne'er a saint Mair pure, my love, than thee. They dinna ken, I canna tell The love ye hae for me ; 'Tis spotless as yer bonnie sel', 'Tis deeper than the sea. 3« VI There's vigour in yer shapely lim's, Health in yer hazel e'e, An' routh o' love in your young hert, An' a' for me ; My ain love, my fain love, My ain plump Nell, I ne'er hae seen, nor wish tae see h fairer than yersel'. There's broad-beam'd sense, there's force, there's fire, My winsome lass in thee. An' routh o' love in your young hert, An' a' for me. My ain love, my fain love, My ain plump Nell, I ne'er hae seen, nor wish tae see A wiser than yersel'. 33 There's hamely airts an' habits clean, My trigsome lass, in thee, An' routh o' love in your young hert, An' a' for me ; My ain love, my fain love, My ain plump Nell, I ne'er hae seen, nor wish tae see A better than yersel'. There's love o' hame, o' weans an' wark. My couthie wife in thee, An' routh o' love in your young hert. For mine an' me ; My ain wife, my fain wife, My ain dear Nell, I ne'er hae seen, nor wish tae see A sweeter than yersel'. 34 SONNETS 1874-1912 REFORM I love Reform, but scorn the narrow heart That would o'erturn all rights whose rise is old, As if the world no sacred thing did hold Which is not of this glorious age a part ; As if new faiths, new rights, new laws, alone Were worthy, and the deeply-rooted past A fated tree, that man's blind wrath might blast, Unchecked by Him who makes the heavens His throne. I love Reform, but only that which fires Its Error-scorching torch at Virtue's flame j That goeth forth in God's eternal name. To war 'gainst all injustice, and aspires To be itself the model of its cause, The fair original from whence it draws. 37 TRUE LOVE 'Tis not the fevered passion of crude youth — With all its jealousies, its smiles, and tears — I feel for thee, but such as for the truth, That spirit hath who God and truth reveres, My love's the fruit of admiration high, Pure worship of thy gracious heart and mind ; I view thee more thro' Reason's calm, clear eye, Than Passion's troubled orbs, — to reason blind, Nor is my love the structure of a day. Conceived in haste, and woven of fancies fond ; But like Truth's temple built to last for aye. Firm in itself, and based on firmer ground — A fixed principle that will out-last All mortal storms, — and live, this life o'erpast. 38 TO THE SEA I love thus lone to stray, and list thy voice Sublimely booming through the porous air, While wanders thro' her star-flower'd paradise The chaste-eyed queen of night, divinely fair. I love to see thy silver crested waves In graceful folds roll o'er the yellow sand, Or hear them murmuring 'mongst the pebbly caves. In mystic music, wild, and weird, and grand ; O, I could kneel, and worship at thy shrine, Ancient of days, great, glorious, solemn Sea, Did not thy voice, in tones which seem divine, Proclaim a Greater, Holier Deity. Yet may I, guiltless — for thou hast this claim — Thee reverence far above all else of earthly fame. 39 TOWN AND COUNTRY Thro' the blue dusk of night's star-spangled veil, The city lights gleam golden from afar, While I, still pressing nearer, feel the swell Of social love within my bosom rise, And cry, O ! city mine, thou art a star More fair, more dear, than all that gem the skies, Mayhap 'tis narrowness, perchance 'tis pride. But, loving nature much, I love man more. And rather in the city would abide. With all its sin and sorrow, rush and roar, Than in the country dwell, tho' fresh and free ; For if 'mid green fields life more placid glide, It lacks the city's splendid energy, Refinement lacks, and spirit world-wide. 40 A SEA FANCY Is it the ghosts of myriads who have sunk In thy mysterious depths, O, sullen Sea, Which pour upon the fine-nerved ear of night Such av/ful strains of tuneful agony ? It may be that of Fancy's streams I've drunk. But, gazing on the stars so keenly bright — Like Love's soul-searching eye — and the pale light That spirit-like from Cynthia's silver urn Spreads mild and wide, marking a thousand traits, The hasty day passed by in heedless scorn ; And listening to the never-ending moan. So often heard, yet still the same through days And nights innumerable, the mournful tone Seems to my soul to say, 'tis this and this alone. 41 NIGHT Now that the jewel'd curtain of the night Is drawn o'er nature's sleep, so sweetly still, Now let me wander forth and drink my fill Of that deep calm, which from the infinite Comes borne on solemn night's unsounding wing. How silent all beyond my uttering — The tranced earth ; how beautiful the sight Of the young crescent moon ; how pure, how fair, The throbbing stars around her clustering, — How blandly fresh the wide-winged wand'ring air That ripples round my fever'd temples, bared To the soft fannings of its breath of love ; O now, my soul, if ever, may be shared The reflex of the peace that's bower'd in heaven above. 42 THE STORM I Strong-wing'd and swift, the winter winds now sweep With furious force along our wooded vale, Before them driving rain, and sleet, and hail, That whirl, and dance, and hiss, and madly leap — As driven to desperation by the gale. Seems it as if the planet scarce might keep Its primal balance in so fierce a storm. Preserve as erst its wonted mood and form — Nor would it — did not He in hollow deep Of His great hand, retain the power that gives Being, motion, harmony, to all that lives. And sways alike the fate of world and worm. In His good hands then, let the issues lie. Alike for time, and for eternity. 43 II The storm has passed, and Nature smiles again As if it ne'er had been, — but, sad to say. It hath not come and gone, sans loss and pain, And sorrow that will linger many a day ; ♦ For, smote by tempests, and o'erflushed by rain, The outraged Ocean, roused to ruthless wrath — Stands in the fated vessels port-ward path, And bars with billows mountainous its way, Boots it not much, how strength and science strive To keep afloat the strongest barques that be. Nor faith, nor hope, can courage keep alive. In the wild welter of so dread a sea ; God help the struggling men, who, all forlorn, Seem by the surging waves to sure destruction borne. 44 Ill Sad, sad the sight, to those who hapless saw, But seeing, yet were powerless all to save Their fate-doomed fellows from the ocean's maw. Dread, pitiless, immeasurable grave. — A calm — But now the Storm's dire issues come, In all their tense and naked savageness, The wail of woman, and the darken'd home, And boding black of future long distress. The tragedy of human wretchedness. — The dead are dead, and never will return, The living live, to miss the dead, and mourn. And we — if not devoid of ruth and grace — Our duty know, and if to duty true. The fitting word to speak, the timely deed to do. 45 SPRING Despite chill winds that turn the sunshine cold, And skies storm-blurr'd, the slowly op'ning year, If faintly, still proclaims that Spring is near, By tiny ancient tokens manifold, In field and garden, mountain, moor, and wold. Buds on the bushes and the trees appear. And streamlets wimple with a voice less sear — Life's voice eterne that never waxeth old — And as my 'custom'd stroll I took to-day. Some gallant bird piped out a trill of song That will eftsoons become a full-orbed lay The fresh-clad, shimmering, happy woods among ; All these — and more than these, well might I sing- Prelude the advent sweet of ever-welcome Spring. 46 MEMORIAL SONNETS I REV. ANDREW CHALMERS, WAKEFIELD I never saw his mortal form or face, Ne'er clasped his hand, or looked into his eyes ; And knew him only through the argosies Of cultured thought, and manly graciousness He, self-denyingly, so freely sent To one who scarce deserved such, God wot, — And lacked the skill, e'en tho' he'd had the thought. Response to give to such rare compliment. Thus sphere by sphere I came to know his soul, And knowing, deeply reverence, yea, love Aye, more and more, as searching time did prove The flawless soundness of the precious whole. The fading form I knew not 's gone ; the Mind, The fadeless Soul, deep in my heart 's enshirned. 47 II J. C. BARNETT, ABERDEEN Passed from this sphere, and passed alas ! too soon, The man belov'd, the man of heart and thought, Who loved his kind, and for man's welfare wrought ; To this perplexM age a precious boon. Ah ! cruel surprise, for we did fondly deem That years would pass, ere Death should force his claim, And leave us but a memory and a name, The tangled wrack of rudely-broken dream — Yet were his days, his hours, with work well filled. For Duty was to him the all in all — And in the gayer science was he skilled, And many a mirth-winged night we may recall. O, honoured much, and still beloved more, Heaven grant we meet again on the eternal shore. 48 Ill WILLIAM STEWART, ABERDEEN Death's shafts fly thick — another friend has gone ; The tree of life grows thinner spray by spray, Seems it as if — its glories "wede away" — We shall be left to bleakly stand alone, The dim memorial of a brighter day, The remnant of a happier time, o'erthrown. O, heart-whole Stewart, we mourn thine early end, For in our heaven thou wert a favourite star, A strenuous worker, and a steadfast friend, Whom Circumstance could neither make nor mar. Whose head and heart did most uniquely blend. But Death, blind Death, makes many a tragic jar. And all too soon thou'st passed into that bourne Which waits us all, from whence there's no return. 49 IV CHARLES SHIRREFFS, Y.M.C.A., ABERDEEN My life-long, dear, and deeply honoured friend, Thou, too, hast passed behind the mystic veil. But passing, found, we know, that all was well. For thy fair life began, and had its end In God — the soul's Eternal Citadel — O, high-souled man, undaunted, earnest, pure, Thine aspirations still did heavenward tend, Thy love was perfect, and thy faith was sure ; And built on this firm base, divinely deep — Thy works were works created to endure. To steadfast stand whatever storms might sweep, Whatever subtle blandishments allure. Oh, much loved friend, meanwhile we bid farewell, But hope to hear beyond the music of thy Hail ! 50 THE MYSTERY OF LIFE 'Tis vain, my friend, the fruitless quest resign, For tho' thou urge to utmost thought thy mind, And ponder all thy life on things divine. Yet, after all the truth thou might'st not find, And only added wonderment be thine. The finite cannot gauge Infinity, Truth is too subtle for the human soul ; We live by symbols, and but shadows see. The Power who wrote, alone can read the scroll ; Our life begins and ends in mystery. We soar in thought, and rise from height to height, Still pressing nearer to the fuU-orb'd Sun, But to be blinded by " excess of light," And end in darkness, as we first begun. 51 THE PAST The Past hath aye some touch of sacredness, A gracious halo hovers round its brow ; Unseen, unwot of in the passing now, A subtle tinge of antique loveliness That lapse of time doth o'er its features throw. Past joys rebloom, refined and glorified — And Sorrow wears upon her tragic face, A chastened glow of saintly sober grace ; E'en Errors — and who hath not stepp'd aside ? — By long repentance cleans'd of their foul stains Serve but to make us humble, and their stings Tho' unremov'd, hold healing in their pains. Such is the grace of Time's redeeming wings. That still from weal or woe, the wise heart 'vantage gains. 52 SHAKESPEARE No mightier Mind our planet e'er hath known, No saner Soul adorns the scroll of time ; Sans peer he sits on proud fame's loftiest throne, Serene as morning, and as night sublime. Through his vast mind all forms of life did pass, Not in their outward shapes and shows alone, For unto him their very essences In elemental nakedness were shown — The hopes, the fears, the sorrow and the joy. The tragedy and comedy of life. The forces that upbuild and that destroy, The Good and Evil — evermore at strife, — He analysed, and gemmed in thoughts too great To feel the touch of time, or fear the frown of fate. 53 DEATH OF BURNS So sunk in death's eclipse this precious life, Which graced with ampler time and freer scope, Had yielded fruits beyond our highest hope — Alas ! such tragedies are all too rife — But, hapless victim of his state and time, ' His song half sung, his great heart all undrained. With ruffled pinions, and with white robes stained, He laid him down and perished ere his prime. O God, the shame and pity of it all — For him the pity, and for them the shame, The robbers they of half his glorious fame, The desecrators of his sacred soul. Great was their guilt, — yet maugre all, his name To Coila dear, is consecrate to fame. 54 MISCELLANEOUS POEMS 1874-1913 SUNSET In the downy, dappled west Softly sinks the sun to rest, Bathing the hills in liquid gold, And tinting every cloudlet slight With colours rich and manifold — The varied hues of light. Behold ! beneath his fading beams. How like the mystic land of dreams The wide-spread landscape seems ; Like golden snakes the little rills Wind through the vales and down the hills ; 57 And every lake and waterfall Doth wear a glorious coronal — A witching beauty not its own, A glory heaven can give alone. How calm : tho' yet not silent all, For boometh still the waterfall ; And singeth still its lullaby The amber rill that wimples by ; While softly-sweet at times is heard, In field or grove, the voice of bird By very peace to joyance stirred. O sweet, at this balm-breathing hour, The breezy hill, the leafy bower ; And precious sure to weary hearts The placid peace the scene imparts, The still small voices from above Breathings of Everlasting Love. 58 The sun hath set, his ruddy light No longer streams o'er plain and hill ; The evening star beams keen and bright, The air is crisp, the wind blows chill ; Then let us leave the greenwood bower, And wander home in musing mood, All grateful to the Source of Good, For such a glorious hour. 59 A WINTER SONG Tho' cold as death and stern as fate Wild Winter cometh scowling ; And storm and gloom upon him wait, And tempests fiercely howling ; While 'neath his frown sweet Beauty droops Her radiant head in sadness, And mute before His rush and roar Are Nature's songs of gladness. Yet be not sad, for soon again The Spring will come sweet-smiling. The weary earth, the heart, and brain To joyous life beguiling. 60 Then field and grove will bloom anew, Life's triumph never endeth, — And this our earth Is vein'd with mirth, And joyward ever tendeth. Then fear not Winter's frowning face, But pile the fire still higher ; And think, the more his savageness. That Spring is aye the nigher ; And strive, with Faith's clear eyes, to see In all a symbol glorious, Of that glad time — That hour sublime — When Good shall prove victorious. 6i AN HOUR WITH NATURE Pleasant the day, and fair, tho' darkling clouds Loom o'er the eastern heav'n, and evermore The golden sunshine and the silver rain Maintain a contest sweet ; O list, what wealth Of glad song wells from forth the bosoms green Of yonder groves, rich in their leafy pride, Or mark yon fields, refreshed by genial showers, And roused to lovely life by summer smiles — How green, how hopeful, and how bland they look ; Or, closer peering, see yon wild flovvers gay. The sweet-breath'd pink, the wand'ring woodruff pale, The bonnie bluebell and the violet meek, And others many which I cannot name, All redolent of beauty, life, and joy. 62 Or let the roving eye turn city-ward, Tho' now its beauties hidden are in shade, For cloud and smoke wreathe round its turrets fair, Its ancient belfries, and its modern spires. But let the eye outrange its ample bounds, And calmly rest upon the ocean vast. Whose never-ceasing boom is heard even here — O ! glorious symbol of Almighty Power, Sublimest scene in all this wondrous world. In wrath resistless, grand in calm or storm — Ah ! vain, for swift, and dark, and vast, the clouds Roll widening o'er its swelling bosom broad, And hide in gloom its green and azure depths, Its slow-paced billows, and its rippling waves ; While yon tall ship, slow floating portward, seems Less of the sea than air, a shadow dim In silence moving through a land of dreams. 63 ON HEARING A BIRD SING EARLY IN THE MONTH OF FEBRUARY Forbear, deluded bird, forbear, Your hasty, hope-born lay. Bleak is the air, the fields are bare, The woodlands gaunt and grey. And Winter from the ice-bound north. With sleet, and hail, and snow, May any hour come sweeping forth, And tempests wildly blow. Then cease, fond warbler, cease your strains, And nurse the life that lies In longing heart and swelling veins. Till Spring brings warmer skies. Again, again ! O, singer brave, That hath no dread of sorrow. The tempest may to-morrow rave, Thou think'st not of to-morrow. 64 BY THE DEE Delightful Dee, I love to stray Along thy banks at that sweet hour When melts the golden heart of day, Beneath mild Eve's mysterious power. To mark thy waves in graceful flow. Or mazy swirl, all swiftly chase Each other, as they gurgling go To meet old Ocean's wide embrace. To see reflected in thy stream In silent depths or shallows loud, The moon's divinely chastened beam. The placid stars, the passing cloud. Or musing lie with closed eyes In some quiet nook by nature blest, Till thy sweet mountain melodies Have soothed my anxious soul to rest. 65 LOVE AND WAR Tho' foes surround me, yet I feel No horror at their vengeful steel, For still thou seemest near, And the sweet sunshine of thy face Shines on my heart, each nerve to brace To deeds that laugh at fear. And when upon the tented field To sleep's soft power I grateful yield. Thine image hovers nigh, To bless my dreams with many a smile, And thrill my longing heart the while With love's ecstatic joy. 66 In weary watch, in dubious fight, Thy dear idea's still in sight — A minister of grace — To cheer me in my dreary round, To nerve me when the cannons sound. And foes meet face to face. Then, fear not for me, Mary mine, Tho' cannons roar, and bay'nets shine. And wounds and death are rife, For through them all I feel I'll pass — A soldier tried, and glorious — To make thee my sweet wife. Alas ! for Love — its joy, its faith. Alike are but the sport of death — Man's everlasting foe — Loud sounds the charge, on rush the brave. The hero found a bloody grave Upon the mountain's brow. 67 DEATH Death unto me I wis, A friend familiar is, Long have I known his placid face, Soon shall I sleep in his embrace. In nature's silent solitudes, In the green-purple dusk of solemn woods, By lonely cairns, on lonely, lonely hills, Where grey Antiquity serenely dwells, I have met Him face to face. And gazed until his ghastliness Grew to wear a sober grace. Yet not without a conflict dire. Musings many, many a prayer. Have I come to deem it so ; For death was long to me a terror and a woe. 68 Death unto me I wis, A friend familiar is ; And tho' I love this life of mine, Deeming it a boon divine, A battle all sublime, Whose issues lie Deep rooted in eternity ; Yet still, amid the glorious strife, I look and yearn for higher life, With humble gratitude, When death — God's angel good — Shall bear my war-worn soul beyond the woes of time. Yet not without a conflict dire, Musings many, many a prayer. Have I come to deem it so ; For death was long to me a terror and a woe. 69 RESIGNED I sit alone with half-closed eyes, In the green gloom of this quiet wood, Through which a low breeze softly sighs, Most fitting music for a mood Of pensive sadness such as mine, Made mellow by the circling years. That give a glory to our grief, A touch of sweetness to our tears. I mourn'd thy death, my sainted friend. For thou wast gathered ere thy prime, And I could hardly think it well, But questioned much the way and tifue. Dark thoughts were mine ; my heart rebelled Against the hand that struck the blow ; Could mercy point the fatal shaft That laid my heart's beloved low ? 70 But time has taught me better thoughts, And tho' my heart still feels a loss, I see thy glory in my grief, And bend my shoulders to the cross ; For thinking on thy nature fine, I come at last to clearly see Thy life on earth, tho' sweet to us, Had been but bitterness to thee. And that thy being rounded by A kindlier set of elements, Will reach a height and win a grace That have no earthly precedents ; And so my heart, tho' smarting still. Slow settles down to lasting rest. Nursing a faith that slayeth fear. And feeling — God hath done the best. 71 JUNE Glorious now at morn to rove O'er the meadow, thro' the grove, Nigh the river, by the sea, Up the green acclivity, While the sun — great Lord of time — Scales the heavens with steps sublime, And the lark, his laureate bard, Springs to greet him from the sward, While the minor minstrels all Answering the jocund call. Tell the story of their loves In the green and golden groves. And upon the air is borne All the fragrance of the morn. 72 Glorious too, the town to leave When the dewy star of eve From the azure canopy Beameth like sweet Beauty's eye ; Or the moon, divinely full. Exquisitely beautiful, From her lofty eminence Sheds a mystic influence. Throwing over all a spell. Sweetly wild and wonderful. Oh ! the joy, at such an hour To lie retir'd in some green bower. And gaze — the city's din afar — On silent moon and silver star, While falls upon the charmed ear The dulcet lapse of runnels clear. The swish of rivers, or the sound. Solemn, eloquent, profound. Of the world-encircling sea Booming everlastingly. 73 O, blessed hour, O, month most dear, Fairest, rarest of the year ; With thy sunshine and thy flowers, Bright blue skies, and gay green bowers. And thy songs so soothing-sweet, Earth's own darling exquisite. 74 TO THE MOON Of night it is the silent noon, And thro' heaven glides the moon, Sweet and chaste, and clear, and full, Gracious, glad, and beautiful. Like a spell her beamlets lie On the river gurgling by ; And a silvery atmosphere Rounds the forests green and fair ; While the mountains, lone and high, Seem as smooth as ebony ; And the earth is flooded all With a glamour wonderful, A finely mellowed loveliness That makes the world seem a place 75 Where pure spirits glorified, Might forevermore abide ; Where the sons of God might roam Nor ever wish diviner home. O ! lovely Moon, chaste Queen of Night, Sure I am no fairer sight Ever blest my tranced eyes Than that which now around me lies, And surely mortal never knew Pleasure half so pure and true In the golden glow of day — Glorious as it is alway — As the joy that thrills me now. Huntress of the silver bow, Gazing on thy placid face, Queen of night and loveliness. 76 A MORNING WALK A cold raw morn, with dull, dead, leaden sky, That hath no promise in its dusky face ; Liker by much a morn in early spring Than daybreak in the joyous month of June. One's eyes are pain'd, to look abroad, o'er fields Whose shining green 'twas erst a joy to see, Now draped in cold unmoving mist ; on trees That hang their heads forlorn, and show slight signs Of life withal : on rugged, sombre knolls, That to Imagination's forming eye Seem like lone horror-haunted islets dim, Lashed by the billows of a cold grey sea. And yet, despite the morning's aspect grim, Far in the bosom of the idle woods 77 K T hear the cushet's low, love-lorn complaint So sweetly sad, with now and then a note More bold and clear out-thrown by linnet grey, That waits and wearies for the tardy sun. And, if my ear me mocks not, yonder voice Is his, the winged mystery of the woods, The faithless, philosophic, wand'ring rogue, Who drowsily repeats his drowsy name, — To Poesy dear — a thousand times a day. But lo ! a speck, A tiny, tearful eye of troubled blue Peeps doubtful from the dusky front of heaven. And through the tangled web of clouds, the Sun Threads his laborious way. A little while, And victory will be his, and the green earth, With thrilling gush of heart-refreshing song. Will give glad welcome to his beams divine. 78 HUMAN LIFE Fair is the rose, and sweet as fair, Yet is its heart of sweetness circled round With thorns that wound ; Divinely beautiful the Sun, a glory ever rare, Altho' for ages seen, — Yet hath his beams sent death to many a brain, And woe to many a heart, I ween. There is no good unmixed here In this perplexing sphere, This wisely woven web of pleasure and of pain. Yet Heaven guides the shuttle as it flies, And pain in pleasure dies, If pleasure dies in pain ; And all is meant, and all doth tend Towards perfection, as the end ; And when the riddle's solved. Unending bliss will be evolved, And God Omnipotent shall reign. 79 FRIENDSHIP I care not what the world may think, I heed not what the world may say : At nature's forge was form'd the link, That binds our souls eternally. And thine I am, entirely thine ; Thine now, and thine for evermore ; Thine 'midst the glow of glad sunshine. And doubly thine when tempests roar. 80 COMPENSATION Tho' low my lot, yet surely not forlorn, For unto me the God-graced year unfolds Its varied beauties, as to other men. To me fair Nature ever open lies, And I am free to wander and rejoice, And say — Is't not a glory and a joy To tread the verdant bosom of the earth. What time gay Summer from her golden horn Scatters profuse her many-tinted flowers, And silver-lipp'd Apollo kisses fast The golden-blooded fruits to rounded ripeness ; Yea, surely, 'tis a glory and a joy To walk in peace beneath the o'er-arching skies Magnificent with pomp of changing clouds, 8i To walk in worship and in wonderment, And feel the presence of the living God Fill like a mighty thought, the swelling soul. Or to the twilight of the woods retire, And mid the leafy solitude serene, Muse o'er the mingled web of mortal life — O, web of mystery, dark full oft, tho' fringed With silver evermore by His dear hand Who bled for us on the accursed tree. At thought of this, light shineth in the dark, We start, as when the arrows of the morn Pierce the dusk bosom of some doleful dream ; And rising, leave the green and purple shade. To tread with happy heart the glowing heath, And revel freely in the regal sun. Lifting to heaven a shining face, a soul Big with the joy which God and Nature give. 82 THE GRAVEYARD Ay, yonder must I lie at last, When fades the world from my view, And every joy and grief is hush'd Within my throbbing heart. For this, forsake earth's glorious scenes- The verdant vales and heath-clad hills, The brooklet's gush and river's rush. And solemn sounding sea ; The music of the winds and birds, The varied beauty of the skies, The glory of the gracious sun — The sun, and moon, and stars. 83 For this, leave friends, whose joys and woes My heart has shared for many years ; My books, the bliss of silent hours, My pictures, ever new ; Part with all nature, with all art, With all that thrills the human soul — Leave the glad ranks of life and love To mix with dust and death. O, sure, great God, it cannot be This is the all reserved for us ; That death and blank oblivion is Our wretched, final doom. Fain would I hope it otherwise, Fain think, when fades this mortal frame, The soul, superior to decay, Serenely soars to God ; 84 Finds higher life, and purer joy, Than e'en this blessed world can give, In regions where the light of God Is sun, and moon, and stars. Where knowledge comes soft as the dews. And clear and rapid as the light ; And wisdom deepens evermore The never-tiring mind ; Where all earth's tribes shall meet as one. And friends will mingle heart with heart In perfect love, and perfect peace, That dreads no painful pause. So will I hope, yea, so believe, For God hath promised, and I hear Clear in my spirit's placid depths The echo of His voice. 85 THE ROSES I wooed a Rose — a ruddy rose, From my Love's lily breast, And laid it on my longing heart, A flame upon a flame. And, parting with a soul-deep kiss, Passed from her presence dear, What time the meditative moon Slow sought her starry bower. Ah me ! that Rose, that ruddy rose, A dream-rose has become. And she, fond fair, who gave it me, A consecrated shade. 86 II I culled a Rose from my Love's grave, A rose of beauty rare — Pale as the virgin snows, and sweet As airs of paradise ; And laid it on my lonely heart, My heart so long forlorn — And with a sigh the graveyard left 'Midst evening's shadows grey. The Rose is withered now and dead, But in my Spirit's core Her sainted memory shines serene, A pure immortal star. 87 A HYMN OF JESUS The map of life in all its forms Lay mirrored in his soul, And with a vision all divine, He read the mystic scroll. He caught the ling'ring fires that dwelt In endless creeds decayed. And blew them to a fadeless flame, And raised to life the dead. He shed fresh light on every theme. On morals, manners, art — And opened with a master-key The secrets of the heart. 88 The tangled web of human Hfe, Its errors, sorrow, care, — He in his loom divine rewove Into a orarment fair. &'- He purged the sin-blurred heart of man, And gave him eyes to see The inner meanings of his life, His being's sanctity. He made the universe divine, Revealed to man his soul, And showed that God, and not the grave Is our immortal goal. The God who hitherto had been A mystery, and a dread, Was by his mystic crucible Our Heavenly Father made. 89 He taught mankind true brotherhood, And — creed, all creeds above, — Made possible the cult divine Of universal love. His sympathies were with the poor, He loved the pure in heart, And for the weakly erring ones Still took the saner part. He smote with justly righteous wrath The smooth-tongued hypocrite, And drew an everlasting line 'Twixt Godless might and right. He duty loved and glorified, And selfishness laid prone, And brought creation to its knees Before the Eternal Throne. 90 His message, in its age unique, So simple, yet sublime, — Stands still supreme, will ever stand, The message for all time. His power for good will ever grow. His fame the planet fill ; The Man Divine, sole Son of God, Who did his Father's will. 91 SOLITUDE Hail, ancient, solemn Solitude, The refuge of the wise and good, ^Vho in thy shades — the world forgot — Replume the ruffled wings of thought, And find while there retired, they live, A peace the world can never give. When fate or falsehood lovers part. Or death strikes dumb some treasured heart, And, robbed of lover or of friend, We deem life's joy hath found an end, When even Hope itself has flown, 'Tis then thy potency is shown, Then that, communing close with thee, We slow regain tranquility, 92 And come to look with saner soul, And chastened heart upon the whole, To see God's goodness even here, And dry at last the bitter tear. When fickle Fortune frowns severe, And all around is lorn and drear. And to our heart and to our thought The heavens are brass, and God is not, Still in thy bosom may be found A healing balsam for our wound, There, beam upon our troubled way From holy heaven a gladsome ray, A light that clear and clearer shows Amidst the briars the coming rose, Till, flushed with hope, we rise once more. And fight as we ne'er fought before. And so redeem the past, and stand Firm-nerved, erect, on solid land. In all the phases of our life, In joy or sorrow, peace or strife, 93 F Or crushed by want, or crazed by wealth, 111 pining sickness, buoyant health, Whate'er our state may hap to be, Still, still we find a friend in thee. Best guide along life's devious road, Prime symbol of the Unseen God, Hail, ancient, solemn Solitude, The refuge of the wise and good. 94 IN MEMORIAM EX-PROVOST MEARNS, ABERDEEN He was note-worthy in his way, Out-spoken, truthful, kindly, just ; And one whom we might fairly trust Would neither friend nor foe betray ; If he had faults — let those who've none Make haste to fling the saintly stone. He lived his Hfe, played well his part, And howe'er puritans may frown — Did credit to his native town, For he had both a head and heart. While those who irk to throw the stone. Too often prove that they have none. 95 He lived his life, a life of deeds — Not studied phrases, falsely fair, At best but tainted, idle air — And nobly met life's daily needs ; Let this for some few faults atone, And spare to hurl the saintly stone. Then let him rest, his labours o'er, — His triumphs, failures, in the strife That moulds to weal or woe our life — Nor praise him, blame him, or deplore. But leave the issues, where they end. With God, our Father and our Friend. 96 IN MEMORIAM PETER MITCHELL, ABERDEEN In friendship staunch, to duty true, And sane, alike in mind and heart, He bore through life a manly part ; And gave to everything its due. Unmoved by modern fads and schemes, The frenzies of the passing day — He steadfast held his charted way, A man of action, not of dreams. A solid man, of soul serene, Who ne'er aspired to pomp and state. But wisely used the gifts of fate, Preserving still the golden mean. We miss him, mourn him, but have faith That in some kindlier sphere, his Mind May fitter scope and service find. Beyond the bourne and blight of death. 97 IN MEMORIAM W. G. WALKER, ABERDEEN Alas, and yet alas ; What is it that I hear ; Did no one see him pass, Was no one near To soothe with fitting speech, To close the darkened eye. To fill the friendly breach, To see him die? Hard hap, mine honoured friend. Fast friend for many a day — To find thy solemn end In such a way. 98 Yet doubtless, dear old friend, When came the subtle dart, You met your sudden end With steadfast heart. 'Tis meet I mourn, for you Were gracious in your ways, To love and duty true. In darkest days. And much I'll miss the grace That rounded me so long, And left its fruitful trace On life and song. But I must e'en submit, For 'twas God's will, and I What time He deemeth fit. Like thee, must die. 99 Die here^ but only here, For 'tis my fadeless faith That from this present sphere We pass through death To kindlier fields beyond, Where friend will meet with friend, And fond hearts mix with fond Sans jar or end. 100 ON A BEAUTIFUL OLD LADY She wears the mantle of her years With dignity and grace, And Beauty — as if loath to leave — Still lingers in her face. If worthy in meridian days Of homage, she, I trow, In life's slow-setting glory robed. Is still more worthy now. lOI REST Of fighting I have had my share, Tho' ne'er with stars and honours graced- And now my heart's sole wish and prayer Is rest — sweet rest. I am no hero, well I know. Yet Heav'n knows I've done my best To bear the brunt of care and woe, Till spent, I'd rest. Then vex me not, but let me lie — Like weary bird within its nest — Hearing far-off the battle cry, But hearing, rest. Yet should it chance that now and here I may not be so favoured, blest, I have a faith there is a sphere Where I'll find rest. 102 UNIVERSITY OF CALIFORNIA LIBRARY Los Angeles This book is DUE on the last date stamped below. Form L9-40to-7,'56(C790s4)444 15 3 W LiliKAKTC I - 1 V EKSITY OF CALIFORNIA «n« ANGELES PR Nicoll - 5110 N5U6s Sunshine and shade UC SOUTHERN REGIONAL LIBRARY EACILITY AA 000 375 941 2 FR 5110 N5U6S