Arcades

THE ARCADES.
--BY--
LOLLIE BELLE WYLIE
1916
A. B. Caldwell Publishing Co.
Atlanta, Georgia
(Copyright)

DEDICATION TO MY MOTHER AUGUSTA ELLIS MOORE

The Valleys Rose.
Tis here and there, where mountains are. And everywhere, from sod to star, I feel my mothers presence grow, Into a stran&e, translucent glow. First, it is like a violet mist, Where sunbeams penetrate and kiss The pallid lights until it seems Vague as her sweet face in my dreams* One day I walked beside a mere, And heard a bird note swift and clear. That thrilled the mystic Shadow through Until info a flame it grew* And every flowr from covert croft. Swung its adoring arms aloft. To greet my Phantom One, and make The Earth more lovely for her sake* In HER teas alt that herein lies, Beneath calm or stormy skies And this thought of my Mother grows, Into the Great Worlds fadeless Rose.
Lollie Belle Wylie.
fill*

Contents.

Desire ........ 9 Pray tor Her Soul ... 9 The Soul of the Jungles 11 The Peroons Flower . . 12 Loves Surrender ... 12 Loves Fantasy . . .. 14 In Dreams ...... 15 Our World ...... 16 A Fragment ...... 17 A Song of You ..... 17 A Love Song ..... 18 A Gaddenese Pagan . . 19 If You Were Near ... 20 Loves Rose ..... 21 Unto My Heart .... 21 The Master ...... 22 From the Red Arcades. 23 Dreams ....... 25 Vertege ........ 26 The Quickening Rose . 27 The Surrender .... 27 A Song of Passion ... 28 The White Arcades ... 29 Love .......... 31 Bong of Love ..... 32 TIntorgotten ..... 33 Heart Leaves ..... 34 Durante Vita ..... 35 At Vespers ..... 35 I Love You So .... 37 The Faded Rose .... 39 My Orison ..... 40 A Song of Love . . 40 Loves Golden Fleece . 41 For Yon ....... 42 The Spirit of Life . . 43 The Spirit of Love . . 44 The Alchemist . ... 45

The Mother ...... 46 A Hearts Lullaby ... 46 Oor Bonnie Lass .... 48 Her Little Brown Shoes 49 The Baby ...... 50 The Little Fellow ... 51 The Dear Little Dwell
ings .......... 52 Loves Karma ..... 53 A Song to the North . 54 A Love Song in the
South ........ 55 The Nights in the South 56 I Said Him Nay .... 57 Loves Alchemy .... 58 Sweetwater Valley ... 60 Morning Glories ..... 61 The Birth of the Moon-
flower ....... 62 Where I Would Walk . 62 Brown Burning Leaves. 63 Three Wayfarers ... 64 The Knight and the
Lady ........ 64 Leontine ......... 66 A Memory ..... 67
My Lady ........ 68
The Girl ...... 69 Florine . . ...... 69 A Birthday Wish ... 70 A Love Song ...... 71 A Glad Song ..... 71 Now I Lay Me Down to
Sleep ......... 72 Three Songs ...... 73 The Village Church . . 74 Resurrection ..... 75 A Valentine ..... 76

Contents Concluded.

Between the Rainbow's

Ends ........ 76

Golden Rod to the

Grumbler ..... 77

Innocents and the Bird 78

friendship's Cyclus . . 80

May Weeds ..... 88

Fan's Piping ..... 87

Separation ....... 88

Early Morning .... 88

Indian River ..... 89

The River ....... 90

I Thought of Ton .

81

Sleepy Town . . .

92

A Woman's Need . . 93

Metempsychosis . .

94

The Ideal and the Real 95

The Knight Lavalne. 98

A Message of the Coals 98

Introspection ..... 99

June hi the South . . . 101

Love .......... 102

The Rose and the Host 102

Regardo ....... 103

An Egyptian Love Song 103

A Cashmere Lover's

Valentine ..... 104

Little One ..... 105

The Musician .... 107

The Fairy-Stone .... 108

Smoke .......... 110

The Gray Arcades . .. 111

Golgotha and the Voice 113

Unafraid ....... 114

Th> Lass and th' Laddie 115

The Woman Heart .. . 116

My Tapestry ..... 117

My Brother ..... 118

My Road. ....... 118 En Fin .......... 120
Love's Loyalty ..... 120 After Ufe--What? . . 121 By Faith Alone . ... 122 Counsel ......... 124 A Message ...... 124 The Poor Man's Inhertt-
ance. ...... 126 Soul Flights ....... 12 His Book ...... 127 The Message ..... 128 Farewell ........ 128 The Dreamer's Triumph 129 Unity ......... 131 Beyond the Trackless
waste ....... 131 Content to Follow Thee 134 I Thank Thee. Lord . . 132 His Love ........ 133 1 Will Obey ...... 134 Alone ........ .138 Mnemosyne . . . . . . 137 Admonition ...... 138 Let This Be Said ... 139
A Prayer ...... 139 Compensation .... 140 The Play of Life ..... 140 A Fragment ..... 141 Tears ......... 142 Life ......... 143 The Bodhl Tree . . .144 Poverty .......... 144 God's World and Man's 145 The Resurrection . . . 146 The King's Great Fete . 146 A Life ........ 147 The Last Voyage ... 148

LOLLIE BELLE WYLIE

THE RED ARCADES.

Desire.
From the red arcades of the past she came, With a breath of flame and a touch of fire; Her passionate eyes they were bare of shame
She was Desire!
Through the walls of snow shutting closely in From the world, a man with heart grown cold, She made her way on the blossoms of sin,
For she was bold!
If her body was warm, did she care a jot? She melted the white walls down to his feet; And the frozen man, like a man, forgot
That life is fleet!
He drowsed for a while in a quickened trance, By the bonds of a wanton securely tied; "The fiddlers paid by the ones who dance,"
Sighed he, and died.
Pray For Her Soul.
Pray for her soul! The death bells dole Their sorrowful tones from the belfry tower. Pray when the dawn, With light comes on, And pray when it fades to the nights long hour!
9

Pray for her soult Upon lifes scroll, Once fair, is written a terrible part; The story of sin, That led her in The nethermost gate, with an unclean heart.
Pray for her soul! The Devils toll Is paid, and she walks in the red arcades Of hell unshriven, By passion driven, Forever alone in a world of Shades.
Pray for her soul I God calls the roll, When gather together the pure ana strong; She cannot say, "Here,Lord!"Alway Must she dumbly move in that ghostly throng.
Pray for her soul! From pole to pole, Let all men plead for the living dead; The good God hears All earth-born prayers, Then pray for the scoriae heart burned red.
10

The Soul of the Jungles.
The Soul of the Jungles, I called her, when With her indolent eyes she looked on me,
And I said, "God pity the lives of men, If ever the light of her eyes they see!"
There was light and music that night. She seemed Fart of the fragrance, and passionate thrill,
That stirred the thought like a wild dream, dreamed When the blood runs red, and the heart beats etfflL
Tropical lilies, somewhere, from her breast, Burned deep with their flame tongue into the brain,
And her sleek brown limbs were a gods behest, And her full red lips were the great worlds gain.
If her eyes fix men with a look of hate," I said, "all the spirits of heaven or hell
Can never undo what the hands of Fate Have done with the skeins tied hard and well!"
She was unafraid. And the fear was mine; For I lived once more in the ages past
And I crouched, and watched on the days decline, From the shadows and tangles that held me fast.
Then I lost the day with its garish light, And I lived by a sense that was long forgot,
When the Soul of the Jungles came my way, With dreams that were real, and dreams that were not. 11

The Perouns Flower.
Upon the dark night lay a flame, As white as Faith, as deep as Shame, And over all, was writ Gods name.
Below, I tossed on fevered bed, As one to some grim Monster wed, With heart and nerve and feeling dead.
"Grant Lord," I prayed, "the Perouns flower, May yield to me the wondrous power, To live Loves one unnumbered hour!"
From off the heavens a flame-soul rose, And softly breathed "That blossom grows Upon the idlest wind that blows!"
Loves Surrender.
Take all of me, Beloved! Take all! Take all! I am so filled with gentleness, so deep,
Imbued with tenderness, I can but call To Thee in sweet surrender, "Take" and "Keep."
Theres not a throb within my quickened heart, But beats in loving answer to some tone
Within Thy heart, and though but poor the art, Its music stirs and wakes for Thee, alone! J2

Take all of me, Beloved! Take all! Take all A part were gift unworth the priceless gem
Of Thy great love. Hold Thou me in the thrall Of gladness, crowned of Faiths bright diadem.
Theres not within my thought the vague alarms Of Loves uncertainty, nor any place
For doubt. My perfect trust in Thee disarms All else but Love, and Loves infinite grace.
Take all of me, Beloved! Take all! Take all! Take my souls self, and shape it as thou wilt.
Take all of me! Absolving grace will fall Upon the .life that feels no pang of guilt.
Theres not one kiss withheld within my lips, . But Thou canst doubly claim by drawing nea r; Theres not a clinging touch, from finger tips
To bodys length, but yields unshamed of fea; !
Take all of me, Beloved! Take all! Take all! Nor ever dream regret will gloom my day
At Thy fond touch, I let all barriers fall, And swing the gates for Loves triumphant sway!
Theres not a passion in my being moved, But sweeps into a mighty, flaming sea,
Take me, Beloved! My dream of dreams is proved, my happy, trembling self to Thee!
13

Loves Fantasy.
Love within the human breast Never dies whilst still remain,
Vital hands to sweep the rest, Into Passions vibrant strain.
Tempered though the song, may be, Fiercer fires have fed the flame
Than which moves the mighty sea, Over earths abundant shame.
You have on the lotus fed; In poppy fields my fancies drowse;
Thus our souls have oft been led, Back to realms for Loves carouse.
Shall I bid you enter? Stay? Wake the jade flutes slumbrous song?
Bold >! A goshawk, far away, Shrieks from cloud, "Fool!" shrill and long.
Coward I. I turn, and hide In the fragrant, crimson stain,
Whilst you fling the portals wide, Seize my dream world, seize, and reign)
14

In Dreams.
You come in dreams. In a sea of gold The sun slips down. The day is old. And your eyes like stars of living light Glow in the years of my life's long night; "fis then that I turn my face on high To meet the dream, on the fading sky.
You come in dreams when the shadows fall On earth's strange face like a sombre pall, And out from the depths of sleep's abyss, Your soft voice woos my soul like this:-- "Behold, in this beautiful world of ours, We gather Love's sweet and deathless flowers."
You come in dreams when the etrly hush Of morning starts with a tender blush, And bud, and leaf, from the hand of God, Spring up from the sweet and pulsing sod; Tis then, like a harp with strings long still, My heart awakes with a sudden thrill!
IS

Our World.
Oh, best Beloved, my whole glad soul vent out to meet thine own,
When thou didst fold me close, and speak in low, delic ious tone.
And hi the world thou madst for me, I proudly stood, whilst Pain,
Regret and Sorrow passed before Loves great, trium phant train.
Dear Heart, what reck we if this scheme of Faded Things shall prove
Too dim to fix our sight, who have a wodd of deathless love?
By Faiths transparent light we view all things we hold most dear,
Since thy dear arms and my fond arms have safely led us there!
And though to mortal eyes it seems a narrow space to hold,
So much of bliss, upon its fields, strange magic dreams unfold;
Whilst over all, a bending sky, whose golden blossoms shine
With radiance and with fragrance that is more than hah? divine.
16

A Fragment.
Thou dost, Oh, best Beloved, with knightly grace, Unveil my souls blind eyes to Loves sweet face: And with thy tender, magic touch, disclose Where blooms in Irems garden fair, the Rose.
What ecstasy is mine, since thou dost prove That lifes a barren dream bereft of love! The waters of my souls deep sea arise, To bear me through the gates of Paradise.
I dram great Jamshids cup, held to my lips By thy dear hand. All sorrow slips Into the great, still darkness of the past, As thou dost lead me to the light at last.
Oh, best Beloved, whateer the years may brin& Of grief or woe, my quivering heart will cling To thee, as happy bird who joys to rest Within the shelter of the downy nesti
A Song of You.
Theres a song within my heart, love, And above me, arching blue,
Is the sky that makes a part, love, Of my fadeless dream of you. 17

At my feet, unrolling fair, love, Is a field of violets new,
And upon the scroll I dare, love, To record my dream of you.
Holding to me their fond arms, love, Roses whisper low, "We knew
One would come whose touch disarms." Love, They were speaking thus of you.
Take and keep my dearest, best love, You will find it stout and true;
Seek its treasures in the quest, Love, Faith will prove its wealth to you.
A Love Song.
O passionate past with thy roses so sweet, And the days that were golden, and longl
O God I would lay all lifes gems at thy feet, Just to hear once again the old song
That breathed on the languorous night the glad theme, With its burdens of love only this!
To live as I lived in that heaven-born dream, That came through the gates of a kiss.
18

O Love that I loved in the days that are deadl O, heart, where my faith was so strong!
I grope through the shadows for hope that has fled,For a love that has wandered awrong!
Come back from the sorrowful past to my arms, With the memories tender that throng!
The nights are so filled with my spirits alarms, And the days are so lonely, so long!
A Gaddenese Pagan.
She danced to the blue-eyed cahila, This passionate pilgrim of sin,
A crimson patallon veiled lightly, Her brown body sheathed softly in.
Her vibrant slim limbs, with fond yielding, Kept time to the rhythm and rests
Of the music, while bravely her tapis Divulged her dark, palpitant breasts.
Then moved by an infinite yearning, With hope whose strong soul never dies,
She sang with wild, prodigal passion: Til dance to his heart through his eyes."
19

She danced, ah, the blue-eyed cahila, The strings of his purse loosened wide,
Threw gold at her feet, but Loves flower, He gave to the one at his side!
**** Her stone god, a strange image coiling,
Among the fire-flowers newly blown, In silence still hears her hearts plainting
Of life in loves sad monotone!
Note:--Dwelling la the Nrth of the Philippines, on' the blind of Luzon, i* tribe of Indimu known the Gaddenese. Theii emotions remch perihelion during the blooming of the fire-flower trees, whose strange subtle odor seems to be part of this passionate psgan life of the tropics.
If You Were Near.
Within your ear, If you were near, Id whisper, "Love, I love you!" With fond, strong arms, That fear disarms, A matchless love Id prove you!
Id fold you in, And hold you in My heart, whilst sorrow bound you; With hopes soft light Id pierce the night Of shadows, that surrounds you.
20

Loves Rose.
Through all the world he sought For Loves white Rose,
Earths flower season wrought, Each bud that blows,
Yet would he turn aside, With tear-wet eyes,
And ask what fate denied Beneath the skies.
Love chanced along and said: "The Rose is near;
You bruised it; it is dead. Its blood is here
Upon this crimson flower, A fadeless stain;
You lost it hi an hour Of unwise gain!"
Unto My Heart.
I knew that some day you would meet me, And as a passing ship would greet me. For did the grim fates ever send me, Save only Wolves to bite and rend me?
21

I knew your touch would some time burn me; Your gentle eyes to sorrow turn me; But never did the prescience guide me, Into such woes, as now betide me!
****
Unto my heart a law I make me, Een though the Hounds of Hell oertake me! The God of Heaven will never rive me, From one niched hour of bliss, but shrive me!

i

The Master.

There is no happiness within her heart,

I;

Although she moves along lifes flowry way;

|

The jest from off her lips is but a part

Of what she has to play.

fn s

Her hands are white, and soft, and jewel bound.

I

The gems of ocean tremble on her breast,

ii

But at her feet lies crushed the Rose that crowned

1

Her faith at Loves behest.

Always she moves amid the laughing throng, With winged feet, that match young Hermes speed;
The while her soul borne down by cruel wrong, And wounds that freshly bleed.
22

A merry word hath she for this fond swain. For that, some airy trifle, or bon-mot;
And yet she feels by every thought, the reign Of tyranny and woe.
She hath been trained by some unholy fate. To mock the eyes that melt into her own,
Herself consumed by love insatiate, Her doom, to walk alone.
LEnvoy. Upon each human life some strange Shape lies,
Deep buried where the world may never see A restless Thing that will at times arise,
To master you or me.
From the Red Arcades.
A Creature there was in the long, long ago, (Her subtlety no one denies),
Who met a dark stranger, and soon loved him so, That faster her heart beat than ever before, And never with him would her pulses go slow,
When warmed by the light of his eyes.
She tried to enslave him with wiles, and by grace; (Not, reader, as you would have done!)
She played her trump cards, from the deuce to the ace; Then left off her girdle and painted her face; Put wings on her sandals and entered the race,
Knowing well that The Woman had won. 23

She spun him a Robe that was softer than sin; (And now comes a time for sad mirth,)
The garment the subtlest woman will spin, With the hope to ensnare, and gather men in, But The Woman he loved was sleeker to win
Him safe from the furnace of Earth!

The Creature was sad for a year and a day, (This story, sub rosa relate,)
She took in her tricks, and she laid them away; She drew off her speed-shoes, and laced up her stay, Then found an old heart on whose strings she could
play The battering Rag-Time of Fate.

A moral is here pointing boldly and strong,

(For those who are ready to heed,)

No servant who moves in the Devils Great Throng,

May win a good man, hold him firmly, or long,

If eager to show him the scoriae song,

Iif

That his eyes are unwilling to read.

24

Dreams.
Blithely falls the golden sunshine, Over all the verdant hills,
And a mocking bird is singing To his mate in plaintive thrills.
All the dells are sweetly blooming All the sky a cloudless blue
All the world, my world, is sleeping For I sweetly dream of you.
Near the tarn, a frog is croaking Hoarsely, as he idly lies,
Blinking in the autumn sunlight, With his dull and stupid eyes.
And the rushes tall and slender, Try to tell him how they grew,
But I list to them unheeding, For Im dreaming, dear, of you.
Sweetly dreaming! May-weeds golden, That were blooming bright and fair,
When we praised them, now are shyly Braiding up their yellow hair.
And by their side, the daisies Stand, and sigh for evenings dew,
And I sigh with them and wonder, Why my dreams are all of you. 25

Is it strange that I should lie here, In abandonment so sweet,
With the green fern leaves and grasses. All atremble at my feet,
And watch the banners, gayly Floating twixt me and the blue
Of the sky, while all my dreaming Is of you and only you ?
Nay, not strange, for in our soul-life, Face to face and hand to hand,
Walk we in a blissful ecstasy, None save we can understand.
Let me dream, then ! Do not wake me, To the sorrows that I knew,
Eer my life was blessed with dreaming Tender dreams, dear Heart, of you!
Vertege.
Soon will your souls eyes wake to see That passions but a phantasy; And that the swoon through which you fell Leads to the Red Arcades of Hell.
26

The Quickening Rose.
There are others as fond as thy lady fair, Of the blossomy mouth and the fragrant hair; There are women as loyal of love, to hold The book of your fate, as its leaves unfold;
And the past is dead. Ah, the shiniest head * Will loosen its tress for the grave ghouls bed.
There are hours more rare than the merciless years Have wrecked on the billows of anguish and tears, And its meet for the heart and its wise and right, To open in time to Loves fragrance and light;
For a past thats dead Can never more wed The quickening rose, with the rose thats dead.
The Surrender.
On wings of fancy swift and light, At last my soul seeks thine tonight; Unbound the fetters, fearless free, I let myself go out to thee!
27

I heed not cry on cloud of gray, That echoes faint and far away; A rainbow spans the strange alarms That swell the sea to thy fond arms.
A Song of Passion.
To the hush of the Crimson Fields I go, By whimsical passion led,
And my hand hath never a glint to show That my soul is newly wed;
But there, in the deepening, clinging glow, Is a crisp, warm, marriage bed!
It is sweet to rest where the blood warm sky, Hangs over the purpling trail,
To thrill, as lascivious minds go by, With whispers of Loves fond tele;
But dearer than all, is the web, that I On my flaming dreams impale!
28

THE WHITE ARCADES.
29

Love.
Love is like a green leaf, Quickened by the sun,
Like a purple shadow, When the day is done.
Love is like a zephyr, Idle, free and sweet,
Like the perfect union, Of the waves that meet.
Love is like a white rose, Leaning to the light,
Like a star of silver, Shining on the night.
Love is like the fragrance Of a rare old wine,
Like Gods benediction, Holy pure divine.

Song of Love.
I sat beneath the rose-vine when you came, Shut in from summers sea of stars and light,
And with a thrill, breathed low your name, Afraid to stir, lest joy should take its flight.
Then when you spoke some simple word, the world My world beneath the fragrant shade, grew sweet
With song, and every crinkled leaf, impearled Upon the night, looked up with adoration meet.
The voiceful wind on airy wings swept by, Brushing the silver strings of my souls lute;
I looked into your eyes; they made a sky, Beyond whose depths was God. My lips were mute.
I counted oer each crimson, perfumed day, That hung upon the summers broidered veil,
And wove them through, in tender, sweet delay, With golden threads from Loves untarnished tale.
Then -when with fevered hands and lips of flame, I knelt beneath the clear, unfailing skies,
I turned to heaven my bountiful, fond eyes, And read upon the blue one word your name.
Thoughts of you bloomed, like roses richly blest, Upon the altar, where I prayed alone,
And all the fragrance from the buds I pressed, To hold until your heart should claim its own.
32

All through the long, dark winter, bleak and cold, The shadows fell, but on my hearts red day,
I could discern the quickening leaves unfold, Along the path where Love had made his way.
And I O, Sweet, I praised each morning hour, I blessed each night that gave my soul its song,
For on the mould of life, a living flower, Had sprung from out the shadow, white and strong,
And all its fadeless leaves grew wide, and bent Into a canopy of fragrance light,
That spread above that which the good God sent, Your love for me, and all my love thoughts white!
Unforgotten.
To lie in the clover, the sweet scented clover, And have my heart whisper the old story over, To see the warm sunshine creep down through grasses, And feel its soft touching as swiftly it passes The tree tops and hill sides, to rest with a blessing On each mitred head with a tender caressing To hear the soft low of the cows in the distance The droning of bees, who with drowsy persistence Sing ever a song that is weird and delicious [?ious-] To watch the white clouds that are strange and capriAs over the bright summer sky they are trailing To let my soul free of its moorings go sailing Away from this earth to find heaven, and you Is what I most yearn for, O Tender and True.
33

Heart Leaves.
How should I know of springs glad birth, Save that the fragrant, heart-shaped leaves,
Thrust up their halberds through the earth, A certain sign that neer deceives?
I wandered through a forest gray Of pallid lights, and humid soil,
And through the heaps of damp decay, Clambered young ferns in mock embroil.
No bud, or blossom, I discerned, Nor meek-eyed violets cap of blue,
But from a heart-leafs message learned The truth that I reveal to you.
The feet of Spring are gently pressed Upon the drift encumbered lea,
And hills remote, where, half confessed, She trembles oer her rosary.
Each bead a wild azalea soon Will spring from out the pulsing sod,
And butterflies will lightly swoon In showers of sunshine warm from God.
I wandered through a forest old, Where faded light, for winter, weaves
Depressing fancies, but the mold Revealed to me Faiths fair heart-leaves. 34

Durante Vita.
He did not find his path in life With roses strewn,
Nor were the bells of his heart-hopes In sweet attune.
Cut in the nights environment Were Love and God,
And Faiths white star above The chastening rod.
At Vespers.
When before the Host shes kneeling, And sweet incense steeps the air,
Thoughts of love are gently stealing Oer her as breathes this prayer: "God keep him safe My love my own God keep him safe, Tifl Heaven is won!"
"Ave verum," thrills the chorist, As his voice floats through the nave
"Vera, passum immolatum," Rise and fall with solemn wave. 35

"God keep him safe!" She whispers low "God keep him safe,
Whom I love so!"
Precious Blood again is flowing, And the ransom is made new;
Tantum ergo sacramentum," Thus the priest doth bless the two. "God keep him safe," She says, "Dear heart! God keep him from All sin apart."
Holy Father, rapturous lifting High the monstrance, bends and prays,
Whilst the silver bells are tolling On the vespers twilight haze. "God keep him safe," She pleads, "My all. God keep him safe From Sorrows thralL"
Priest and sinner, in the presence Of the living God, still kneel,
Whilst that sweet, diviner essence Their adoring spirits feel.

I
"God keep him safe O Mother Saints
Plead thou for him I" These are her plaints.
Mingles then the Gloria Patri, With the Amens sobbing sigh;
Acolyte with genuflexion Swings the silver censer high. "God keep him safe-" She lingers yet, To supplicate With eyelids wet.
I Love You So.
I love you sol Soft shadows creep Upon the hills. The day fulfils Its destiny and calmly dies. I look into your tender eye And sadly weep, Because I know I love you so.
37

I love you so! The prison bars That hold my heart Break, break apart. And fetterless, with winged feet, My love goes forth your love to meet. The silent stars Like blossoms grow, I love you so!
I love you so I I cannot stay Loves eager flight His wings are light And who recks when, or where they lead? Who understands his wilful creed? "Tis strange alway! But this you know. I love you so!
I love you so! And yet and yet You understand Oer all the land, The nights black shadows swiftly fall. O Love, gone out beyond recall, Through eyelids wet, I see you go. I love you so!
38

The Faded Rose.
Once, my Love how dear, he knows Through wet grasses waded,
Just to get this little rose, Scentless now and faded.
Faintly lingers, as a stain, By dark purple aided,
Red that will not grow again, When the leaves are faded.
Fair it was as Loves true faith, Full as richly laded;
Now a restless, ungraved wraithy Stalks mong petals faded.
Nothing else have I to hold, Of that dream, dim, shaded,
Nor can gem or crown of gold Buy what now has faded.
Only once in life do we Have Loves garden raided,
For a flowr as fair to see As was this rose, faded.
39

My Orison.
No sin is thine that I would dwell upon, Nor yet one word of thine would I forget,
Thy soul to me is as a lily spun By holy hands in sordid sin-soil set.
What if a troubled wind hath fiercely rolled Across and scorched the petals white and fine,
uotn not a patient God forever hold Predestined in His hand the germ divine?
What if each fragrant leaf disclose a stain Made by the kiss of summers fevered breath?
The dew of righteousness, like gracious rain, Woos back the blossom from the blight of death.
Thou art my prayer! Thou whom I may not see, Nor yet may touch with tenderest, loving care;
Still be the service of my life to thee A beauteous thought, a constant clinging prayer.
A Song Love.
If I should break through the silver bars, That hold me fast in a world of stars, Sweetheart, Sweetheart, with the earnest eyes Would you turn to me with glad surprise?
40

If I should open the golden gate, And come a conqueror of high estate, Sweetheart, Sweetheart, with the tresses fine Would the guerdon of your smile be mine?
If I should call from the Fields of Snow, "Dear, open your arms! I love you so!" Sweetheart, Sweetheart, with the lips of flame, Would you fold me in from a life of shame?
The gates of Sun, nor the bars of Night Nor the Fields of God, restrain my flight. Sweetheart. Sweetheart, with the great grief dumb, That speaks of a deathless love I come!
Loves Golden Fleece.
O sweet, they were golden, Those days that are olden,
And plexus of happy thoughts held us in thrall, What cared we of failures Whilst snowy azaleas,
With fragrant lips answered the mocking birds call?
Still tenderly gleaming Through years of sad dreaming,
Thy purple, deep eyes with their shadow and snine, Though silent the distance With loving insistence,
Come back from the past, meet and melt into mine I 41

Dear Heart, we were started, Intrepid, strong hearted,
In search of the golden fleece. Thou wert to me A bold Jason guiding, Our Argo; abiding
Ir bliss, with loves lute strung I sang but for thee I
Unlike fabled Argo, Our ship with its cargo
Of transcendent hopes, on Fates restless shore Was wrecked with Youths blowing Rod roses, and throwing
The treasures of life to the witch-maid of Spring!
How priceless the dreaming! Thy tender eyes gleaming
Like stars through the distance that holds us apart, Come back sweetly bringing This hope to my singing:
"The Golden Fleece waits for the faithful of heart!"
For You.
Just, a little song for you Bend your ear and listen;
Arching skies forever blue, Stars like words of Women true,Sweetly, brightly glisten, To inspire a song for you,
Just a little song! 42

Would you know the reason why, All the bells are ringing?
Why the campanulas sigh, As each li^ht breeze passes by, And sets their bells a-ringing? "Tis to make a song for you,
Just a little song!
Heaven, and earth, and Gods sweet sky, All unite in lending
Gentle sounds and beauteous flowers, Fragrance, stars, and golden hours, Thoughts of love and hope unending, Just to make a song for you
A tender little song!
The Spirit of Life.
I am old as the pyramids, young as Loves Rose, And my lips have beeo pressed on Earths furnace and
snows.
I am wild as a summer storm, quickened and fleet, And as gentle as winter winds beating retreat.
I am sad as the poor weeping mother of Nain, And as glad as the dreamer is, dreaming in Spain.
43

I am wicked as crimson souls, doomed to unrest, And as white as the angels are sinless confessed.
I am poor as a prayerless man, wretched and old, And as rich as the miser is, hoarding his gold.
t
1 am grim as old scythed Time, counting Youths hours,
And as hght as a butterfly, drunk of sweet flowers.
I am humble as sinners are kneeling in prayer, And as bold as the lion is, crouching in lair.
I am strong as the breath of heaven, vital, and free, And the whole of the universe, God giveth me!
The Spirit of Love.
At the heart of a great strong bud it lay, Sightless, dumb, on a tuft of gold, Whilst snow-pure petals, crinkled and cold, Shrouded it close in a fragrant fold,
Wrapping it in, in a strange, soft way.
With the passing of years, it slept, they say, From mortal mind, concealed, alone, Itself all dead to the springs low tone,
Or wild azaleas, newly blown On the quivering breast of the May.
44

And it slept through the pulseless ages gray, Til Man and Woman stood confessed, Then the quickening came. With fifes unrest, The leaves uncurled frozn the lilys breast
And Loves glad spirit rose on the day.
The Alchemist.
This hath transpired: The Mighty Alchemist My faded dream hath touched and gently kissed,
Until its fragrant roses bloom again. With that full fragrance I so long have missed;
And gives me back my sky of amethyst. Think ye, I am not glad, O world of Pain?
What was the dream my fond heart cherished so? What matters that, since all its colors grow
And shape themselves into a world of light? Now that my soul with loves warm fires glow,
And that my flame of constancy is white?
It hath transpired that some hand was laid "Upon my dream, which neer again will fade;
Oh, I am glad and full of hope and song, For never more shall I sit in the shade With Grief, whom all my days of gray hath made,
But seek the day, whereon bright spirits throng. 45

The Mother.
You can see her calmly sitting, Through the dreary days alarms,
With her fancies lightly flitting, Round the baby in her arms.
Her fond eyes are always smiling, Her soft words are always fair,
As her lips with lov beguiling, Rest against her babys hair.
Sits the Mother through the hours, Though the Banshee haunts the world,
With her heart oerrun with flowers, For the baby hands uncurled.
A Hearts Lullaby.
Good-night, my little Lady, the stars are shining through
The downy clouds of heaven, like your eyes, As they peep from out the cover, Folding you so snugly over,
So slumber, eer the Moon-Man lights the skies! Sleep! Sleep! The funny shadows creep
To where the roses petals drift, for fairy hands to reap;
Sleep! To shady bower, the-dove has safely fled, To warn my little Lady to the shelter of her bed.
46

Good-night, my little Lady, the moon "is riding high, And light and gentle zephyrs are awing;
Elfin fingers, quick and willing, Lily whorls with dew are filling, So close your drooping1 eyelids whilst I sing; Sleep! Sleep! The dusky shadows creep To where a silver river rolls in moon-waves, wide and
deep: Sleep! for softly falling, a misty veil, and light, Will wrap you in, and fold you in, throughout the pur
ple night.
Good-night, my little Lady, the yellow sun will soon Be Founding like a flower on the blue
Of the sky, so whilst Im keeping Watch beside you through your sleeping, The loving heart of God will care for you. Sleep! Sleep! Strange phantom shadows creep To where the fragrant flowers lift their faces white,
and weep, Sleep! Be sweet your dreaming, with never Lifes
alarm, An angel host will ever keep my Lady-love from harm.
47

Good-night, my little Lady, the moon-boat sails away, The happy laughing1 stars fade off the sky.
Roguishly the sun is glancing At the merry world a-dancing, But all my world is waking with a sigh. Sleep! Sleep! With swift and noiseless feet, Death came and softly whispered on your ear a mes
sage sweet. Sleep! Though Heavens morning breaks with unfail
ing light I hold you hi, and fold you in, a hearts eternal night.
Oor Bonnie Lass.
Blaw, blaw, ye winds sae sad an drear, Bend low th purple heather, For oor wee lass, Nae mair will pass This wa through changin weather.
Rain, rain, ye maun fa as the tears Of womin weepin sairly; Our bonnie cheil Nae mair will feel, The love that met her fairly.
48

Blaw, blaw ye bitter winds. Ye rain Drops, beatin down the heather, Our winsome lass, Nae mair will pass This way through changin weather.
Dear heaven, had ye na flowers enough, But ye maun cull our Bonnie, And plant her deep Where th bairns sleep, Whul we maun wi oot ony?
Her Little Brown Shoes.
Her little brown shoes are all rusty and worn, And crumpled and frayed are the strings,
And though on the vamp a small rent has been torn, They are dearer than most treasured things.
Her little brown shoes never tracked on the dust, Never brushed the bright dew from the flowers,
They simply wore out as such little shoes must, When danced through glad babyhood hours.
The little brown shoes were the first that she wore, And they pleased her as pretty shoes do,
All dear little girls with their feet on Lifes floor, And their hands at the door of the Blue. 49

One evening there came through the dim shadows gray,
Troops of angels all whispering low, The beautiful story of heavens sweet May,
And the words that a baby loves so.
So the dear little one with loving, bright eye, Slipped the little brown shoes from her feet,
And followed Gods messengers into the skies, Through a white path of asphodels sweet.
Oh, dear little girl of that strangely dumb throng, Do you know that our grief still bedews
The place where your little pink feet still belong, In the worn out and rusty brown shoes?
The Baby.
Her little face was like a rose That blooms the June month through;
Her roguish, wee, tip-tilted nose Seemed sweetly mocking youl
Her smile was like the foam at play On billows of delight,
Or like a butterfly in May, Poised for a joyous flight. 50

I know had you but seen her hands, Pink-fingered at the tips,
You had but thought of coral strands, Through which the water slips.
And had her dear feet gently pressed The earth along your way,
The ophir flowers, wind-caressed, Had blossomed on the day.
She walked this way a happy while, Then lost among the flowers,
No more her tender, gracious smile Lay on the lonely hours!
The Little Fellow.
He was such a little fellow For the King to call to see
His last judgment on the people Of The Ghostly Company.
He was such a little fellow, But he filled a great big place,
With the fragrance of his presence, And the beauty of his face. 51

He was such a little fellow To reflect so much of light,
On the grim and restless shadows .Of an all-pervading night!
He was such a little fellow To receive the Silent Guest!
So small a child to follow Through the Great Gate at the Westl
He was such a little fellow! But the favored of the Lord
Are the little ones who give us Hope of the Omniscient Word.
The Dear Little Dwellings.
In dim, little dwellings of silence, . With windows half hid by the rose,
Are hidden the dear little children From every rough storming that blows.
And there sweetly sleeping, these babies, Are sheltered like birds in a nest,
For tenders the love of the Father, And ever, He knows what is best. 52

So the dear little children are gathered And quietly hidden away,
In cool little chambers of silence, Where dreams are far brighter than day.
And they who were fair as the blossoms, That cover each little white bed,
Are the dearest of Gods lovely angels, Who slipped through the gates of the dead,
To enter the Kingdom of Mercy, Where these little houses are made,
That dear little children may slumber, Through long purple nights unafraid.
Loves Karma.
Where are the sweet kisses that fall on the cheek Of innocent maids as the world waxes old?
Where are the dear words that the fond lovers speak The feeling too deep for the being to hold?
The stars are the kisses that glow on the years; The words are the flowers that spring from the sod,
And feeling the incense the forest ensnares, To burn on the altar made ready for God. 53

A Song to the North.
Come ye to the South, sirs, who love the delicious Wine aging alway at the heart of the roses
Come! Drowse ye awhile, be ye idle capricious Where whorls of white lilies lifes fragrance encloses.
Come! Hasten! The lotus leaves, fold over fold, The wonderful dreams of young Love ever hold!
Come ye to the South, sirs, who love the effulgence, That glamours the world with a radiance eternal.
Just take a brief day, with Joys promised indulgence, And learn of the Southland, its pleasures supernal.
Come! Hasten! The days are still langorous and sweet, With gentle winds stirring the young grass at your feet.
Come ye to the South, sirs! The elfin, wee people, That haunt the Norths shadows, have danced to the mellow
Gold light, that illumines from green sward to steeple, The world with a splendor both purple and yellow.
Come! Hasten! The eyes of the women are deep, As the cradle that shelters the baby asleep.
Come ye to the South! Take a dreamers confession. And hurry away to the fragrant lagoon
With Faiths tender eyes, and a heart for impression, Youll drift to the happiest dreams drift and soon.
Come! Hasten! Lifes strangest, most wonderful things Are opened for you, on the Souths airy wings!
54

A Love Song in the South.
( \n old cuitont of love-maklnc In the Sonlh has almott paued W*T. Bat there till remaina a few plucea. far-aw*7 and half forgotten, where the Lover woo* hit Maiden with the guitar and the mim'c make* romantic and pauionate mote of the Bight.)
The Voice and the Guitar.
Lightly it floats through the shadows of night Over the marsh, where the fiddlers are "peeping,"
Going its way by the ling-aloes white, Waking the silence the day has been keeping. "Open thy window, Beloved, for me-- Through the blue water my shallop is plying, Open thy window--I'm coming to thee-- Soul of my soul, with a love deifying!"
The Lover's Song.
Softly the notes of each silver string plaints-- Vibrant, and clear is the Lover's low singing--
Delicate lilies as pure as the saints, Swoon in the ecstacy, passion is bringing. "Open thy lattice, Beloved, and give Sweet of thy lips to me, others denying-- Open thy. arms that my spirit may live, Ever in bliss that is swift and undying!"
55

The Answer.
Fondly the Lover's voice melts on the air-- Tenderly-sweet is his anxious heart thrilling,
Down in the bend of the brown bayou where Blue tules are bent, he can hear this low trilling: "Open my window is, Love, and I lean Out on the moonlight that brightly is falling Over the black shadows sweeping between Thee and me! Come! I am waiting and calling!"
The Nights in the South.
Oh, fair are the nights when the yellow moon glows 'Gainst the sky, like the heart of a golden sweet rose! And the Pleiades gleam through the dew-scented light, Like silver-winged butterflies ready for flight!
*
The nights in the south are too drowsy to hold The fragrance that filters from lily's fond hold, And the wee elfin wood-folk through long purple hours Lie close at the breast of the jessamine flowers.
Oh, the nights in the south, when strange melodies fill The soul with life's passionate, exquisite thrill! When the wine-colored forests, like brides in a dream, Ensnare to their tresses the moons' silver beam!
56

The nights in the south are so tranquil and sweet 1 They pass like the angels with swift, noiseless feet. And the kisses of love lie long on the mouth, Of dreamers who dream through the nights in the
south.
I Said Him Nay.
I said him nay, Because alway There will be with me one dear face, Shining above the woodbine blossoms white. A "yes" I think had not been just or right To either one.
My heart was sad-- Oh, gentle lad! Because in truth I'liked him well, And it was hurtful when I saw his pain Full like a harvest moon, then slowly wane, When I had done.
He understood, For he was good At heart and he did not chide me once. A cruel fate, alas t alike was ours-- Save that I saw One face above the flow'ra, And--he saw mine.
57

I said him nay, Because alway The memory of One voice will be The only thing to wake the chords that sleep In my sad heart, and I shall ever weep To see spring twine
In broidered robe, The white woodbine. Now, heart of mine,
Make answer, pray-- Did I not right
To say him nay?
Love's Alchemy.
It chanced upon a dreamful day, When slender halberds half divulged
Where fragrant heart-leaves ambushed lay, The earth her secret hopes promulged.
Within her kerchief's filmy hem A wisp of crisp brown shrub was tied,
And on her brow a diadem Of wild azaleas I descried.
Each thurible of dogwood burned Rare incense at the feet of Spring,
And in the hawthorn hedge .discerned I passion blossoms clustering. 58

The Cherokee and mountain rose Throbbed in sweet consciousness. The while
A mocking-bird imperious chose A meadow-queen's heart to beguile.
The violets quickened. May-weeds stirred Among the leaves; the elder blooms,
With graceful yielding, half demurred, While parting with their fine perfumes.
How prodigal was life! The strings She loosed that held her purse, and fast
She shook its gold upon the wings Of butterflies that flitted past.
Ard then--mysterious alchemy Wrought by the witcheries of Love--
Creation's grandest symphony Filled earth and rose to heaven above.
What though the icy fetters bind The wintry world in frozen chains--
Within the heart you always find Spring blooming where Love gently reigns.
59

Sweetwater Valley.
bown where the laughing water flows, With many a flirt and sally,
You'll find the loveliest flow'r that grows, In any southern valley.
Though shines the sun, or falls the rain, Though seasons haste or dally,
Though stars shine bright, or wraith-moon wane, It blooms still in the valley. '
Each soul that rides the Scheme of Things, Through Earth's unblossomed alley,
Has sought to filch the charm that brings Contentment to the valley.
But none save him whose heart is bold, Enough to bravely rally,
Against the ills of life can hold The fragrance of the valley.
And who but would give half his hopes, And all Love's dreams that tally,
To live one day on emerald slopes, In fair Sweetwater Valley?
60

Morning Glories.
Riotous, happy and easy to please, Throwing your treasures away to the breeze,
Opening your star-cups, For a possible nest,
Stored with fresh honey, For a humming bird's quest.
Delicate flowers, I fancy that you Are the materialized spirits of dew.
Riotous, happy and climbing at will Up through the blithe air, your bloom urns to fill
With nectar distilled By night-gods. You seem
To possess that enchantment One feels in a dream,
Whether you climb to the casement, or peep Up from the green sward, when fresh from your sleep.
Riotous, happy and filled with the wine, That makes mad the senses, oh, blossom divine,
You are fragile, yet fairer Than mist-shapes that lie
In dreamful repose , On a midsummer sky. As coy as a woman whose charms are as rare, As the beautiful gem-bells you swing <m the air.
61

The Birth of the Moonflower.
The moon loved a star That dwelt in the west;
The star loved the moon And fell on her breast.
The night told the wind, The wind to the earth,
Proclaimed, in its joy, The Moonflower's birth.
Where I Would Walk.
I would walk in quiet places, Where the leaves are fresh and green,
And where happy, roguish faces Of sweet flowers laugh between.
I would lie in beds of clover, Where the idle butterflies
Love as only loves the lover, 'Neath the summer, southern skieo.
Where the drowsy bees are swooning From the madness of Life's quest,
And the brook goes softly crooning, To the ocean's tranquil breast. 62

I would dally with the hours, As a little child that goes,
Gaily gathering fragrant flowers, From the violet to the rose.
I would dream all free of sorrow, In the tranquil life that brings,
To the heart no gray Tomorrow With earth's sordid Scheme of Things.
Brown Burning Leaves.
There's a fragrant, faint odor of brown burning leaves, Afloat on the twilight that silently creeps
Over all the dim land where the Grim Shadow weaves A chaplet of stars, for his Lady asleep.
O'er the far purple valley, and over the lea, A silence hath fallen, more songful than Spring;
Too drowsy the wee, winsome birds in the tree, To answer belated wee birdies awing.
And the tall, crisping sedges creep timidly through A tangle of witches, and May-weeds of gold,
That their gray lips may lave in night's new fallen dew--
That their poor hands may empty of riches they hold. 63

Then it's upward, and onward, through blue mist and song,
The spirit soars free as the Grim Shadow weaves His chaplet of stars on a breath, deep and strong,
Of fragrance that rises from brown burning leaves!
Three Wayfarers.
Fared one man forth with eager eyes, Bent on the deep unfathomed skies* That he might leave unfading name, Writ on the tablet of Earth's fame.
Another turned his steps to where The crouching lion hid in lair, That by his prowess he might show How far his manhood's strength might go.
And one--a foolish lad was he-- With heart as fain as heart could be, Sang thus, "Nor earth, nor sky above Hath aught to give, so great as Love."
The Knight and the Lady.
Minstrel, listen to my story: Once a knight of high degree,
In life's tournament for glory, Drew his sword right valiantlv. 64

No one dared gainsay his power. None so bold but he could face,
Till, upon a fatal hour, Love unveiled a woman's grace
To his wondering eyes. His fingers From the scabbard fell apart,
As a love, where passion lingers. Slowly fades from out the heart.
And he vowed: "By God, and heaven, Whilst this earth new victories hold,
I will strive, until is given Me her smile and hands' soft fold!
This--a smile, a touch, a token, That her heart is safely won,
This--or else my sword falls broken And my knighthood is undone!
Then the lady leaning nearer, (Warm and fair and fond was she,)
Whispered, "Love makes glory dearer, Since I love, as you love me!"
65

Leontine.

You are not as others are, Leontine,
For the lambent, living light Of your eyes, is far more bright Than the stars that watch the night,
Leontine!

You are young, and wondrous fair, Leontine,
Sunbeams glow like virgin gold, Which your shining tresses hold, Struggling in each flashing fold,
Like a snare.

Your sweet lips are like a rose,

Leontine,

Through whose parted petals gleam,

Dewy memories of a dream,

While your smile a painter's theme,

Comes and goes.

--

You are not as others are. Leontine,
For your spirit, white am pure, In my memory will endure, Ever like the lustrous lure
Of a star.
66

A Memory.
She was like an April blossom, Springing lightly to the sun,
Like a fragrant cloudlet floating, On the sky when day is done.
She was like the silvery waters, Rippling down a mountain's side,
Like a slender willow bending, To the wind in youthful pride.
She was like a hope of heaven, In her innocence and youth,
Like a mystic-artist's picture Of simplicity and truth.
She was like a chord of music, Tangled in.a theme of love;
Like the moonbeams gently folded, In the white breast of a dove. 1
She was all that makes a maiden Dear, adorable, divine,
And where'er her feet went dancing, Over earth sweet flowers shine.
67

My Lady.
She is like a crystal river, Fringed with bandrols wet with dew.
Sometimes like the white Himalayas, Kissing sunlit skies of blue.
She is like a cool, deep forest, Full of shadows, dim, and gray.
Sometimes like the fragrant blossoms, Blooming 'neath the skies of May.
She is like a sweet nun kneeling, With the rosary at her lips.
Sometimes like the cold wind blowing, Through forgotten, royal crypts.
She is like a dream of heaven, With its angel IsrafeL
Sometimes like the cruel Dragon, Guarding close the gates of Hell.
She is, well, she's just a woman, With a warm heart in her breast,
Divine sometimes, then human, By God's sacred seal impressed.
68

The Girl.
I do not hold that her blue eyes, Are like the southern, summer skies, But rather to the violet fair, Would I their matchless hues compare.
And who would say her lips were flame To mock the ruby's heart to shame? Not L Her mouth is like a rose, The sweetest that the June-tide grows!
I have not said, her tress is gold, Nor anything so hard and cold, For where the silken threads entwist, About her brow, the sun has kissed.
Nor will I cry, O, Fair! O, Fine! O, wondrous fragrance of the Vine! But this; Who pass along her way, Must bless the sweetness of the day
Florine.
b'or-get-me-nots, her chapeau decks, And where the brim is drooping,
A thousand impish, amber flecks Of crinkled curls go trooping.

Her eyes are bright, and full of guile; Her lips are red as roses;
And e'er they dimple to a smile, You know where mirth reposes.
A filmy gown of tucks and lace, Her rounded charms embolden,
That seem to say, "A matchless grace Is mine, all ripe and golden!'
Demure she is at times, and staid, Again full fond and tender,
A maiden who is not afraid, Love's tribute swift to render.
The grace of God is in her heart, No sin marks her confession.
The Lord gave her an easy part, To play, with Life's concession
A Birthday Wish.
But just a few short happy years, Have blossomed on her childhood.
To make the perfume of her youth, As fragrant as the wildwood.
70

And she in beauty rare has grown, Through each year's swift transition,
With promises of womanhood, Ripe with love's full fruition.
^v
Then may the good God crown her life. With blessings, rich, supernal,
Until at last He gives the gift Of happiness eternal.
A Love Song.
If arching sky bends gray or blue, It matters not, sweetheart, since you
Have, through the darkness, turned your eyes, To guide my steps to paradise.
It matters not, dear love, for I Will need no sun nor moon on high,
To light the way. Your love so true Will make my skies seem always blue.
A Glad Song.
In the great, wide world, where the nights are long, And the days are barren of mirth, or song, You can find the harp with the silver strings, Somewhere, and the singer, who sweetly sings.
71

On the heart, where the dear, dead dreams are laid, Away in the grave that the Fates have made, There will spring from the quivering cypress shade, A thousand hopes that are unafraid.
Now I Lay Me Down to Sleep
I would, with folded hands kneel down tonight, Just as a little child, at His dear feet,
And from an humble heart, keen of Life's blight, The simple prayers of my lost Youth repeat.
With faith, that oft has faltered, but remains Still strong enough to know that he will heed,
I would forget all losses and all gains, And penitent, with child-heart plead.
The prayer I've lisped so many times I'd say, The simple rhyme, "I lay me down to sleep,
And if I die before I wake, Oh, may God take my weary soul and safely keep."
Tonight, from out the dim years softly steal, A troop of memories, that gently wake
My sou) to sweetest music, and I feel As when I knelt and prayed for Jesus' sake. 72

Three Songs.
Oh, mighty and strong, is the rich man's song, It reaches the staggering, unwashed throng, "Go back." it swells, "to your tatters and shame, To the barrens obscure from whence you came! We ever will master your time and fate, And your restless prating begets our hate!"
Oh, mighty and strong, is the poor man's song, It reaches the glittering, purse-proud throng, "You are cold, and hard, and your greed of gain Untunes your ear to earth's sorrow and pain. But the day draws near when the sombre pall Will be laid on you by the Lord of all!"
Oh, mighty and strong is the angel's song, It reaches the devil's unshriven throng, "Sweet peace to the heart when brotherhood gives The Lily of Love, that forever lives! And better than strife that the lips be pressed To the healing founts of the good God's breast."
73

The Village Church,
A sleepy old church in a village, I've found, Where the preacher is earnest alway;
There the old people nod, as the basket goes 'round, Though the choir sings loud as it may! But the worship is sweet, That is laid at the feet Of the Master, and there you can pray.
From the altar, white lilies in purity gleam, Alike for the sinner and saint;
Dim lights through dark windows that solemnly stream,
Are garmented strangely, and quaint. And it's good to go there, To nestle more near,
To the Great-Heart, if lonely or faint!
Good people kneel down, with their minds undefined, And their hearts heed the word of their Lord,
They worship, as worships the simplest child, With salvation, their promised reward. Ah, they kneel with no thought, Of the madness inwrought On the souls, in the World of Discord.
74

This little red church, crumbling, faded and old, Half hidden by quivering leaves,
Is a haven of safety for hearts that are cold, And the spirit that wanders and grieves, There you find a sweet rest, For the brain, and the breast, As you hang on the cross 'twixt the thieves.
Resurrection.
A naked tree against the sky, The sky a leaden-gray;
A sparrow chirruping hard by, This is a winter's day.
A locust tree a-bloom, and white, A butterfly a-wing,
A sparrow plumed for eager flight, And this is spring! Is spring!
78

A Valentine.
If arching skies that bend above, Illumined gray, or blue,
Were mine, I'd make it's lights to shine, Along life's path for you.
The lilies sweet, and roses red, The violets wet with dew,
I'd make into an incense rare, To burn for you---just you.
And of the songs of God's great world, That thrill the listeners through,
I'd make a melody so sweet, Twould charm the heart of you.
But since the earth is not my own, The flowers I'll bestrew,
Along your happy way, shall be, Just thoughts of you--of you.
Between the Rainbow's Ends.
Have you a cheery word to say? Then say it!
Have you an impulse to do good? Obey it!
For short the way, and sad, O Friend, Between the rainbow's end and end I

If Heaven's sweet song thrills in your breast, Just sing it!
If in your heart a hope should stir, Then wing it!
For many a one grows old and gray, For love denied, along Life's way.
If in your soul Faith's lamp burns out, Relight it!
If bitterness should tinge your thought To blight it,
Remember, just a step, O Friend, Will take you to the rainbow's end.
Golden Rod to the Grumbler.
Good morning, Mister Grumbler, I wouldn't be like you,
For all the stars that blossom, On God's Eternal Blue,
Because you feel no joyance, As you walk here, and slow,
Where every path is twinkling, With flowers angels sow.
77

Good noon-day, Mister Grumbler, I would not wear your face,
With all its frowns and furrows, For e'en a moment's space.
You never see the sunshine, That spills along Life's track;
You only meet the shadows, And frightened, hurry back.
Good night to you, old Grumbler, Tomorrow I must dust
The autumn leaves with pollen, And gild the grasses' rust.
For I have learned that living, Is fair enough and sweet,
If one but humbly blossom At the Gentle Master's feet.
Innocents and the Bird.
Some little Innocents I found, Out where the grasses tangle,
In mimic warfare on the ground, They did scarce else than wrangle.
A red bird flew among the blades, Chirruping some sweet greeting,
"By quarreling, your beauty fades," Said he, "and life is fleeting." 78

"But we are trod upon," they said, "And crushed into a jumble,
That's why our peace of mind is fled, And we fight thus, and grumble."
"It's wrong!" the red bird chirped, "All wrong! My nest is oftimes raided,
But still I sing my simple song, For nests are soon rebraided."
Each Innocent smiled, and replied, "Forgive!" to neighbor nearest.
Into a fragrant wisp I've tied The flow'rs for you, my dearest!
79

Friendship's Cyclus.
January-- Come, take my hand, O perfect youth. Lead thou me to the Soul of Truth, And with thy rose-leaf fingers stay The tears sprung from my yesterday. How quick the past seems with its stings 1 To aching hearts your new birth brings Sweet promises of ends attained; Tune turns our life's new page unstained, Then cometh, from the troubled past, A whispered "Courage!" Hope, at last, Awakens in each soul a song That drowns the sob of a conscious wrong, A prayerful wish to thee I send-- God keep thee safe, my gentle friend.
February--The crocus hoards a store of gold The sun hath won her heart to hold, And with the first south wind she opes Her fragile cups on grassy slopes, To yield all to the Alchemist Who with the Goddess Change keeps tryst. The pattering rain resolves in dew; The bow of promise bends for you; The Frost King's flood-gates are unbound; Arachne's shuttle is unwound, And through the naked branches gleam Like moonbeams seen in Love's sweet dream. By this fond token I would send A pansy bloom to thee, dear friend! 80

March--Ho! Merry March, a sand-dune flies Into my eager, watchful eyes I I strive to find the violet blue, That prophesies a love most true, But as I seek with jealous care, Thou tanglest dead leaves in my hair! Alas! and how the catlins tease The naked branches of thy trees I How wild, capricious, mad and gay! Thou dancest all thy days away! We seldom weep to see thee go, And yet--I love thee, love thee so! Wilt take a gift I fain would sendA greeting to a distant friend?
April--Who cometh now, with faltering feet Pressed on the grasses lush and sweet, Somnambulic, enchanting fair,-- With yellow woodbine in her hair? Behold in her the bride of spring, Uncertain how her lips must sing, With harp atune to every mood Engendered by the soul of good! Her face is pale with timid love; Her eyes are blue as skies above. She holds the hawthorn in her hand, And swings a censer o'er the land. Through her dear heart I trembling send A heart's best wish to thee, dear friend! 81

May--I ne'er have read a verse of thine,
And yet, I feel they'd match with mine! I spake thee but a happy spell, And yet, I know I hold thee well! UntU the wild azaleas came, I ne'er had heard men speak thy name, And now in leaves of oak is set,
A pleasure I would not forget.
I ne'er shall see the Mayweed's gold Divulged upon the fragrant mold, Nor yet behold the timid stars Step lightly through the twilight bars, Unless to thee my heart will send The wish to win thee for a friend.
June--When wild red blood of June doth leap, Into earth's depths where flowers sleep, And swells each bud into a rose, Where passion richly, warmly glows-- And when beneath the southern skies The jasmine yields to butterfles A philter from each pearly breast, That proves love's dearest best behest; When every purple mitred head, Bv bee is bent on clover bed, And all the world in sweet attune Delights to sing the charms of June, The song within my heart I'll send To you, " Tis joy to win a friend." 82

July--How languidly a mellow haze Of sunshine falls on fields of maize, And tenderly the sun-god weaves An arabesque upon the leaves That tremble on the wooing air, To make a picture strangely fair, A picture touched with light and shade, Which signifies Hope unafraid. And God's dear earth with drowsy grace Smiles as she looks on summer's face-- She plaits the while of Ti-Ti's fine A wreath her tresses to entwine-- She smiles, methinks, to hear me send This simple greeting to my friend.
August--How long the fevered summer nights Do linger with their strange delights! How long the fervid days do cling, To every hope that is a-wing! No longer doth the primrose press Lip unto lip with fond caress, Nor yet the Georgia Cherokee, Wave over orambles, glad and free, For in h r p'ice the marguerite, And nesL for oirds, nods at our feet. And where the innocents have bloomed, The meadow queen stands proudly plumed. Tis bliss to feel that I can send Responsive thoughts to thee, O, Friend! 83

September--I pray thee heed each milk white sail, That shadows like an airy veil, The moon who, with elusive grace, Shows roguishly her winsome face. I pr-vy thee bend a listening ear The night-bird's soulful song to hear; She plaints of themes the heavens teach Divinely sweet in angel speech! I linger where the gentian-bells Chime in the harmonizing swells Of trumpet-flowers that tenderly Proclaim the thoughts I shape for thee. No other heart will ever send A truer blessing to a friend.
October---The tulips, poplar, lilies green, Are filled with spice by hands unseen, To please the elfish Ganymede, Who brews wine from ambrosia seed, While he with magic finger stirs Into the potion wisps of firs, Whose tender larch-like stems ensnare A thousand odors from the air. The aftermath and stubble gleams Through amber lights. - A poppy dreams Among the tall and crisping grass, Woo'd by the winds that lightly pass, Nor wakes she till I bid her send A heaven-born dream to thee, my friend! 84

November--Wings! Wings! Wind-wings all flecked with brown,
And yellow leaves now drifted down! Ye hold imprisoned in a snare, . Of restless, palpitating air, Faint odors of the wood-loam's breath, That, panting, sighs o'er summer's death. And where the sumac's crimson touch Grows deepest is a rabbit hutch, From whose deep shadow shine the eyes Of motherhood in glad surprise. The dogwood-cups have spilled their seed; Pan blows upon a well-tuned reed; He pipes a tune I fain would send On wings of music to thee. Friend!
December--White stars are whirling gently round To consecrate the naked ground; The early snowdrop's bell is seen To quiver on linears of green. And where chrysanthemums arrayed In regal robes smiled undismayed At winds o'er bold, a phalanx fine Of shrouded ghosts march into line. The organ swells, the chorist's voice Bids every soul on earth rejoice, For lo! a Star of splendid light Illumines all the voiceful night! A crown of roses white I send signifies Peace, for my friend. 85

May-Weeds.
Pretty, bonnie May-Weeds, Hair of yellow sheen,
Blooming in the meadow, Proud as any queen,
On a hill I found you, One sweet sunny day,
When the earth was showing; All her buds to May.
Pretty, bonnie May-Weeds, Peeping through the mist,
Of the golden sunshine, By the breezes kissed,
Fondly do I love you, For the memories dear,
Clustering 'round the meshes, Of your tangled hair.
Pretty, bonnie May-Weeds, Summer now is dead,,
And beneath the crisp leaves. You've hid your curly head.
But I know the spring-time's Flower days are near,
And m find you shyly Combing out your hair.
86

Pretty, bonnie May-Weeds, Come then in the spring.
And my heart joy-ladened, Such a song will sing,
As will make your eye-lids Open in surprise,
When you learn the secret Blossoming implies.
Pan's Piping.
Once again I hear Pan blowing On his reeds beside the river,
Where the sunlit waves are flowing, And the campanulas quiver.
Such a sweet enchantment stirring All the leaves and whispering grasses,
That I linger yet, .demurring, Lest I miss him as he passes.
Surely he who played so madly In the dear days now grown olden,
Breathes the music softly, sadly, That enthralls me here--beholden.
87

Separation.
Where waters flow, And lilies blow, I sit and dream night dreams of day. The moon serene, Smiles on the scene, But thou, Beloved, art far away.
Faint elder sweets, From dim retreats, By rocks with lichens old, grown gray,
Pulse on the night With new delight, But thou, Beloved, art far away.
, I weep alone; Grief's monotone!
Glooms through the gold of lafe's sweet May, With heart-alarms, I hold my arms
To thee, Beloved one, far away.
Early Morning.
How peacefully within the arms Of time, the morning lies,
Unconscious of the noon alarms She opes her beauteous eyes. 88

A crown of stars the night hath laid
Upon her pallid brow, For virgin she, all unafraid,
Must meet her bridegroom now.
Behold! with winged feet he speeds, Through road and fen and brake;
His hands set to the trembling reeds, That gently stir and wake.
The vague, illusive wraiths of mist Dissolve before the sun,
For lo! the bride and groom have kissed And dawn and day are one.
Indian River.
Out on che quivering stream we are drifting Star worlds, like lily buds, rounded and white,
Open new paths to the crinkled clouds, lifting Fold over fold, to the silver mist, sifting
Down through the limitless reaches of night.
Zephyrs are breathing, with spicery freighted, By dark orange grove and murky lagoon,
Bringing the chaunt of the Egrit, ill-fated-- Doloroso of the Bittern--unmated--
Sighing his plaint to the low-bending moon.
89

Gathering dews from the Jessamine bowers, Catching the sheen from the blue bandroTs crown,
Guiding our bark through the sweet, silent hours, Lavishing on the weird twilight the powers
Of love that comes, Heaven hence, dreamily down.
The River.
O, beautiful river, The moonbeams aquiver, Lie palpitant now on thy bosom so fair, And through the tall rushes, And dew-scented bushes, Dim mist shapes arise like wreaths on the air.
O, silver, still river, Flowing onward forever, Breathing heavenly harmonies out on the night, Each musical number, Awakes my soul slumber, To quick revelation of Heaven and Light.
O, mystical river, When Soul-Life shall sever Prom Flesh of the Adam-Dream, seraphs divine, From sphere far--celestial, May come to Terrestrial Sphere, just to resolve my glad spirit with thine I
90

I Thought 6f You.
I stood upon the hilltop And heard the soft breeze bring
Sweet echoes from the wild birds Upon each fragrant wing>
I saw the day-god slipping Adown a sky of blue,
I saw him kiss the flowers, And then--I thought of you!
I followed far the flexures Of a wilful little stream
Whose low croon seemed an echo Of music in a dream.
I paused to pluck the cresses That on the margin grew,
But truantiy my thoughts, dear, Would wander back to you t
And when the day was ended, And shadows fell apace,
I closed my eyes in slumber And saw again your face.
Your steadfast eyes were tender With love so fond and true
That all the dream was brightened By that brief glimpse of YOU!
91

Sleepy Town.
Oh, have you been to Sleepy Town And seen the wonders there?
It's round about, and up and down, You go through fancies queer,
Before you reach the little gate, That always swings ajar,
For those who enter soon, or late, Or come from near or far!
And Sleepy Town is strange and old, The palace of its queen,
Is built upon a hill of gold, With steps of emerald green.
Within a spacious garden, grand, An old man sits and dries,
The tiny heaps of silver sand, He sifts in tired eyes.
The trees of this far land are high, And hung with bells of blue,
The angels dropped from starry sky, To chime sweet tunes for you.
In Sleepy Town great flocks of sheep, Feed by cool purple streams,
And play among the poppies deep, Where hide earth's happy dreams.
92

The people there are like the mist,
Or wraiths that haunt the night, And once their phantom lips are kissed,
They silently take flight. There all is vague, unreal, untrue,
A dream is Sleepy Town, And from the queen to ghostly crew
The fabric tumbles down.
But wondrous fair is Sleepers' Land, To those who wish, or dare,
To meet its folk, nor understand, Its schemes as light as air.
Yet sometimes, when life's night is pas*When lost the earthward track,
It's gate will shut you in, and fast, And you will not come back.
A Woman's Need.
"Us sheltering a woman needs,
A housing from the wint'ry gale, With loving words on which she feeds,
And watchful eyes that never fail. A great, true heart on which to rest,
When night's black shadows settle down, Within each woman's human breast
This wish for folding in, is found. 93

'Tis all she asks, a little love, That she may count as hers, secure,
A safe abiding place to prove A loyalty that will endure;
Her wants are few when all is told, Compared with what a man requires.
But oft times wandering in the cold, For lack of warmth her soul suspires.
And yet--though small a thing to ask, Denial makes the gift seem great:
A woman wears a stolid mask When looking on the face of Fate.
'Tis sheltering a woman needs, An anchorage, no matter where,
Some one to kiss the wounds that bleed, And hold the scar as something dear.
Metempsychosis.
Methinks that we have met beyond The dim arcades of glooming years,
And that the fates with happier bond, United us, than yields us tears.
Thou wert--Oh, chide not this fond thought-A blythe young shepherd on some hill
With fragrant grasses over-wrought, And flocks of sheep that grazed at wilL 94

And I--forsooth--I hear thee say, "A mind so grave could scarce be light
Enough to pipe on reeds by day, Or woo the star blooms on the night."
Twas then I found within thy eyes, A thousand gentle thoughts expressed.
Heart spake to heart without disguise, Nor felt the pang of Hope oppressed.
And O, Beloved, within the space Where Life's unresting dreams hath made
Our clay-shapes glad, thy matchless grace Hath been a dream that could not fade!
Some sin of thought, some deed of shame Perchance hath kept our hands apart.
This much I know, thyself, thy name, The touch of thee lives in my heart,
Through spirit--sense, through time, and dream Illusory, that transport gives,
Then chide me not if in the beam Of these same eyes the old love lives.
The Ideal and the Real.
If I were but a shepherdess, And you a shepherd gay,
Upon the hills of Mincio We'd dream the hours away. 95

Our sheep would feed on meadows fair, And in the mead of bliss,
Perhaps you'd praise my flowing hair, Or seek my lips to kiss.
You'd swear by sun, by moon, and stars, To tend the sheep with me,
Forever on the fragrant hills Of sun-bright Italy.
But you alas, are plain and old, A man of common clay,
And I am not a shepherdess, With pipes and reeds to play.
We each are trying hard to feed Our little human flocks,
And though we dream of Mincio, We must be orthodox.
The Knight Lavaine.
Lavaine was a knight of King Arthur's good tune, With a helmet as bright as the sun;
No song in his heart, save the smoothest of rhyme, And his dream-nets were honestly spun.
96

No token wore he, of the true, Lady-Fine; Never flaming lips troubled his rest;
But hope in the heart stirred his pulse as with wine, And but deeds for strong men were his quest.
He rode through the forest by day and by night, Fair Apollo his guide; All the stars
fie praised, as they burst on his wondering sight, Though he pledged his allegiance to Mars.
The simple, wild flowers, lent charm to hid thought, Every bird on the air made him glad;
In tender, strong meshes of speech he inwrought All the dream of strange beauty he had.
In time Sir Lavaine, of fair Astolot came To the meadows by Camelot. There
He entered the tourney to make him his fame, In the eyes of the King, and the Fair.
His charger stood ready the trumpets to heed; His dark features by visor concealed;
When lo, in a moment all changed was his creed, And the guerdon of Life was revealed.
All proudly he rode to the midst of the fight, With his lance lifted steady and true;
"No triumph so great," quoth he, "than that I might, By my Knighthood, and valour but woo!" 97

They gave him, Lavaine, of fair Astolot, all The rich spoils that a victor may claim,
But dearer than life, was the rose she let faU At his feet as she whispered his name.
A Knight may ride first to win diamonds or gold. And his armor be bright as the sun,
But never a trophy so fine that may hold His heart, as a sweet Woman won.
A Message of the Coals.
I gazed upon a bed of coals, And saw a form most strange,
That marched a goodly host toward, A lonely moated grange.
Beyond a meadow, broad and fair, A splendid mountain rose,
Upon whose towering heights was spread, The alpin's glittering snows.
A steadfast flame burned glad, and high, Upon the mountain's crest,
And hi the purple glow I read Undying faith expressed. 98

form seemed yours, my soul's true mate, Hie braves, your deeds of love, The grange my heart untenanted, With gray skies bent above.
The meadow blooms were thoughts of you; Its music, my life's song,
The mountain high, the hope that made My purpose firm and strong.
And in the flame I dearly read, A message fresh from heaven,
Which bade me take with grateful heart, . Love's treasure richly given.
Introspection.
Your eyes, they have troubled my night dreams; Your eyes, they have troubled my day.
Fain were I, to shut out their bright gleams-- Oh, I wish you were far away! For then had my thoughts been more restful. Nor grown in the shadows gray.

1 wish that your footsteps had led you, Through desolate desert afar;
I wish that some being had wed you, Who dwells in a faraway star! For then had my soul life been restful, Strange spirit whoever you are!
I wish that the spring had been burning The lamps of the mid-summer sun,
And bunded my eyes past discerning Your eyes, O, illusory one! For then had my sad heart been restful, And never such mischief been done!
I wish that the eglantine tangles Had buried you deep in their bloom,
And angels had hidden their spangles Of stars in the stormiest gloom, For then had my sad heart been restful, Nor known your dear eyes fatal doom 1
But since I must ever go grieving, Because of your eyes and their art,
I wish I may go on achieving Some gain of sweet song for my part, ~ To sing to you when I am restless, To woo you and win you sweetheart!
100

June in the South.
Rosy lipped and eager, Trembling with delight,
Breathing fragrant odors, On the silvering night,--
Feet encased in rose-leaves, Star-gems at her throat,
Garments light as cloud-fleece, 'Round her softly float,
June, the month of passion, June, a lovely maid,
Through the gates of heaven, Noiselessly has strayed.
Prophecy.
The gentle breezes softly blow-- The evening shadows come and go-- But night succeeds the afterglow,
Beloved!
Rose censers sweep the purpling air-- The cloistered violets kneel in prayer-- Nor reck they my heart's mute despair.
Beloved! 101

For I alone can lift the screen, Of light and shade that hangs between,
The future and this tranquil scene, Beloved!

Love.
Tig the loss of oneself in the path of Delight, Tis the welding two passionate souls; Brief glimpses of heaven, That only are given, When an angel the curtain uprolls.

The Rose and the Host.

This life is like an opening rose, Upon whose petal God bestows, The timid blush, or quick decay, As leaf by leaf unfolds each day.

I

Then from the monstrance of the heart,

Let not the Blessed Host depart,

For 'tis His sacred breath that gives,

. The rose its beauty whilst it lives.

102

Regardo.
One wrote along a margin white, A simple word. His mood was lights. Another read, then idly spun, A web of dreams, till set the sun.
One wrote along a margin white, A simple word. His mood was light. Another read, and brushed away, A mournful mist of tears that day.
An Egyptian Love Song.
I pray that thy wonderful spirit, Albine, Like the lotus that blooms by the Nile,
May pass in thy sleep from its temporal screen That debars it from heaven's sweet smile.
Divine is the amorous song of the night, The ibis plaints sadly and low.
Where willow boughs bend with supernal delight, To waters where silver stars glow.
The sweet dews of twilight are falling, Albine, They are fragrant as wine in a rose,
And I with a heart full of love for my queen, Am guarding thy sinless repose. 103

Sleep. Sleep, in thy ivory couch while the moon, Has her face veiled in envy and shame,
And all the bright planets have sunk in a swoon, As I worship while breathing thy name.
A Cashmere Lover's Valentine
Could I send thee, dearest, a dear valentine, Of Nagacessara and Sun's sweet vine, I'd say to each blossom--but why should I tell The secret your heart must have guessed, true, and
well?
Could I send thee, dearest, a fond valentine, Whose rythms re-echo the music divine, That stirs in the heart, like a palpitant bird, Twould tenderly sing, but it's music you've heard!
Could I send thee, dearest, a sweet valentine, Of smooth chena bark, where leaves intertwine, With flowers that bloom on the great Tooba Tree, I would proffer Life's exquisite joya unto thee.
Could I send thee, dearest, a bright valentine, I'd make all the margin with white stars to shine, And set in the midst of the glowing array, Love's star of devotion to woo you alway.
104

Could I send thee, dearest, a pure valentine, Imprisoning all the high hopes that are mine, Each thought like a crystal spring, breaking earth's
bars, Would leap into life, like God's great sea of Stars.
Could I send thee, dearest, the strange valentine That glows in my heart, would it quicken in thine That love Camadeva alone can create In souls that are destined by heaven to mate?
Little One.
Not a blossom in the spring-- Little one! Little one!
Not a bird upon the wing-- Little onel
Nor a flash of golden light-- Nor a star that shines by night, Half so fair, so sweet, so bright,
Little one!
Nor the wind among the trees, Little one! Little one!
Nor the hum of busy bees-- Little one!
Nor in all earth's tuneful throng, Such a symphony of song, As you croon the whole day long,
Little one! 105

Like the blue forget-me-nota-- Little one! Little one!
Are your eyes two living spots, Little one!
Of that sky from whence you came, Where the angels breathe your name, And a cherub kinship claim,
Little one!
Tell me how you lost your way? Little one! Little one!
Where did your white feet stray? Little one!
Did they lead you from afar, Through the gateway of a star, By the seraphs left ajar,
Little one?
Ah, no matter if your soul, Little one! Little one!
From the land of Aiden stole Little one!
Unawares, well keep you here, For they do not need you there, Half as much as we do, dear,
Little one!
106

The Musician.
Near the stars I found him weeping, O, his eyes were sad and tender!
And his hands were gently sweeping O'er the instrument, with keeping
Time to heart-throbs-- Time to heart-sobs-- Thus it was as I remember.
Near the stars, The golden bars Shutting in a world of song Broke as sadly-soft he played, Qpe'd, as gently soft he played, Then his soul on heaven-fight pinions Rose beyond the far dominion Of the stars.
Randegger.
Randegger plays! Tis then I see The sunny skies of Italy; And as his slim white fingers slip From Key to Key, with fragrant lip Of yellow days, the summer seems To woo the earth to happier dreams.
107

Randegger plays! Each loving note With deeper feeling seems to float To where the angels drop the bars For gentle souls beyond the stars. Emotion then, too over-bold, O'erturns the tears it cannot hold.
Play on, O Youth! Touch thou life's strain, To happiest dreams, nor wake to pain; Love's golden fancies, pure and strong, Fill all thy soul with tenderest song, Until the earth, with eager ear, The echoes of each note may hear.
The Fairy-Stona
They say, and I'm sure they are truthful, That far in the ages unknown,
The symbol of Christ's crucifixion Was carved from a brown Fairy-Stone.
The wee folk who dwelt by the waters That flow from the fountain of Truth,
Had never a sorrow to grieve them, Nor age ever withered their youth.
108

And happy and blythe as the robin, Whose love thrills the pulses of May,
They dwelt till the Veil in the Temple, Was rent on that Sorrowful Day.
Then heard they, to hear through the ages, "Lama Sabachtani," then,
Saw they the Patient One yielding His life for the ransom of men.
Then said they, "We'll carve by our fountain, A cross like the one on the Hill,"
And all the wee fairies in Patrick Are carving those brown crosses still..
And if you but cherish this symbol, And fold it with faith in your breast,
The ages unfathomed will open The way to Earth's Highest, and Best.
And he who is kind and courageous, And he who is patient and strong,
Will know by the cross that the Father, Will guard him and keep him from wrong.
And he who is gentle and tender, Who carries his cross till life's done,
Will feel the weight slip from his shoulders, When heaven by Faith has been' won.
109

Smoke.
Upward curling on the morning. Fine as feathers, soft and gray, Gracefully the sky adorning, Blown where idle zephyrs stray. Columns rise, as sweet blooms vagrant, Springing from the pulsing sod, And they mingle with the fragrant Incense wafted up to God. Ah, how like to life the smoke is, Rising from the warm hearts fire, And as vapory earth's strife is, As the winds of youth's desire.

THE GRAY ARCADES.

Golgotha and the Voice.
The rest said, Let be, let us see whether Ellas win come to save him.
And behold, the veil of the temple was rent in twain from the top to the bottom, and the earth did quake, and the rocks rent.
And the graves were opened; and many bodies of the saints which slept arose,
And came out the graves after his resurrection, and went into the holy city, and appeared unto many. Mat* tbew 27:49, 51, 52, 53
Why is it, Lord, I am so set upon by grief and sorrow? A thousand hopes I've given the earth, and yet, no
hope can borrow! Unhappy, sore oppressed, and sad, I jest with mirthless
laughter, Unmindful of the wounds that bleed, and wounds that
will come after.
Why, Lord, hast thou forsaken me, when hope with me expires?
Hast thou no pity for thy child, who on the cross sus pires?
I've worn the raiment red; the crown of thorns; and felt the bleeding:
Have known the reed: been spit upon: despite my tear ful pleading I 113

Golgotha's heights Ive humbly climbed, my cross in patience bearing,
Have tasted hyssop, heard the voice of my accusers sneering,
And now, my God, my side is pierced, my weary spirit broken,
And I too weak and spent to take thought of the Bloody Token.
Why hast Thou left me, Lord, to meet the darkness now descending,
Without the strength to even pray, although my knee is bending?
The veil is rent. My dead self hangs upon the cross. Unbidden,
The restless ghosts of earth stalk forth, by graves no longer hidden.
Now, by a Voice divinely sweet, all Calvary is shaken! "My child," it calls, "Fear not, Thou art not by thy God
forsaken!"
Unafraid.
Where will I go when the bitter winds blow? Where rest with my heart of wild flame?
Will my spirit take flight, Like a wraith on the night, Or pass through the gate whence it came?
114

will I be when the storm wrecks the sea, With merciless madness of life? Will I drift to the sands,
With weak, rudderless hands, Or rise through its fury and strife?
What matters it, Lord ? Thy love is abroad, And finds in my temple of clay,
A fragrant, white spot, Where the ghouls enter not And roses are blooming alway.
Th' Lass an* th' Laddie.
The heather bells were ringing Towards th' fragrance o' th' day,
All joyous things were winging, On the wind sae saft and gay.
And Jock--he went a-wooing, But his lassie laughed him nay.
Alack, 'twas his undoing, In th' merry month o' May.
115

On bed o' heather gory, Wi' his heart bared to th' fae,
Puir Jock was dead to glory, An' th' pibroch's wail o' waev
Na heard his lassie calling, Through th' lanely hours, an' gray,
Na saw her tears down falling, Through the merry month o' May,
Th' world is fu' o' sorrow, As th' wind is fu' o' play,
An' Life's promise from Tomorrow, Threads th' heart o1 youth's Today.
So lassie, kythe thy laddie, When wi' him ye yearn to stay,
An' share wi' him his plaidie, Through Love's merry month o' May.
The Woman Heart.
Oh, Woman, why are you so sad? But yestere'en your heart was glad. "Aye, filled with hope, with love, with joy," The Woman moaned; "and now--my Boyl" And so it is as she has said-- Her only son lies stark and dead.
116

Oh, Woman, why do you but weep? Why long and lonely vigils keep? "My life looms but a weary spaa Since I have lost my heart's Dear Man. Alone he lies--but God knows where-- And I am Here and he is There.''
Oh, Woman with the bonnie eyes O'errun with tears, and strangely wise, Why are you cold? Why do you cry? "Is 't not a woeful thing to die," Said she, "when one is young and true, Pierced by a bullet through and through?"
And so it is the wide world o'er, From northern hill to southern shore, The Woman-Heart must always feel Most poignantly the clash of steel-- The roar of battle, carnage, Death, Whose hand shuts off her loved ones' breath.
My Tapestry.
The fabric of my life is made, Of broken threads, and gray,
Nor will the colors reproduce, In colors bright, or gay. 117

And sore of heart, I look upon The lengths that I have made, -
Through patient years, and mists of tears, To find the edges frayed.
But just above, a thread of light Like sunshine brightly gleams,
Among the roses sweet and'white, That hide my world of dreams.
My Brother.
'iia ue, who waits with patient hands, To heal the wounds that bleed;
Who with a clean mind understand* And tolerates my creed.
My Road.
It is not long, nor broad, nor fair, But every leaf is sacred there, And when the days are fresh and new, When winds blow soft and skies are blue, I seek it and my soul straightway Unfurls its wings from clods of clay.
118

Tis always spring along its line, The flowers there in love-light shine, And trumpets blow from covert croft, In harmony divinely soft. Azaleas too, with lips of flame, Breathe ever there one sacred name.
Sweetheart! Sweetheart! Could you or I The things of this earth deify, The blossoms of that road would change Into a language new and strange. And every bud a gentle word Would by caressing winds be heard.
But you, Dear Heart, in paradise, Have learned through God-love to be wise, While I must wait the alkahest. To raise Life's lilies from Death's breast You left me for the star-heights bliss, With memories--a grave--a kiss!

En Fin.
The recognition came--but came too late, Long, long the beggar stood without the gate, And pleaded for a meagre crust to stay, The hunger of his heart that starved that day. He sang, poor fool!--the listeners laughed to hear-- Of star-heigths, asphodels, and all things fair; Of worlds where bitterness was all unknown, Where hearts were never broken, or alone!
He sang, and smote upon his breast the while; Woke tender chords with strange and magic wile, Until the men assembled in that throng Grew silent, listening to his plaintive song. Then cried they: "Poet! Dreamer! Hear us! Hear! We'll wreathe thy brow with violets white and fairl" But that sweet chord that echoed, last and best, Had snapped the chord within the singer** breast.
Love's Loyalty.
I thought the Past was dead-- Ah, foolish me!--
And that the future led Away from thee. 120

Today they spoke thy name-- My heart made moan,
Because I love thee still And walk alone.
After Life--What?
What lies beyond the grave? We cry And cannot telL The infidel
Says nothing, save a dreamless sleep, In which the eyes forget to weep, When closed by slumber long and deep,
This--when we die.
What follows death? Our bodies rot, And mould away In quick decay.
And worms untiring feed upon The wearied feet whose race is run-- The tired hands whose work is done--
This well I wot;.
And after our poor flesh has fed This hungry brood-- This multitude
Of ghouls, Oh, whither does the spirit go? We cannot telL We do not know If it re-lives in weal or woe,
When we are dead. 121

Beyond the unfathomed star-world lies A region where The voiceless air
Sleeps. Sleeps? Man's lips may never tell, Since they who in the Unknown dwell, Guard ever its deep mysteries well,
Beyond the skies.
And yet, He says, when Death's cold hand Our hearts have stilled, And unfulfilled
Are our sweet dreams, most cherished, best, Within the aching, fevered breast* At last will come the longed for rest,
In His strange land.
By Faith Alone.
Because I had the blessed gift, To humbly work and wait,
Until the Master's hand should lift, My burden at the Gate--
My Brother scoffed and jibed me sore, He cited other men,
To whom success brought o'er and o'er, Fame's golden diadem. 122

Alas, his words all hot and strong, Burned deep into my brain
Until I cried, "It is not wrong To hope and strive again
To make the raveled ends of thread Spin out my fabrics length,
And weave it through with gold and red, For beauty and for strength!"
In time the world approving wrote, My name in letters clear,
My Brother asked, "How did your boat, Find seas so broad and fair?"
I answered him from out my heart, . "The gift God gave, was good. To weave a pattern was my part
In life. I understood.
And though the threads were dull and gray, The Master portioned me,
His sweet voice called, "There's work each day For you to do for Me.
Go, gather thou from Life's great store, Whate'er you can of light,
To color what was dark before, Make you your pattern bright."
128

This did I oft with troubled eyes, That scanned the lonely years,
Phis--though at times the sombre skies, Were dripping bitter tears.
But finally there came a Voice, Which said, "Enough! Well done!
Brave soul sail into port! Rejoice! By faith alone you've won!"
Counsel.
For every Christ-like deed you do, A fragrant flower will bloom for you; And for each tender sigh you give, Some dying hope will smile, and live I Then let your life well-ordered be By grace of God and sympathy.
A Message.
She seeks again, as oft of old, 'Neath quivering sod, and fragrant mould, She sought to find the heart leaves brown, That wove for spring, love's fadeless crown. And when divulged, through mists of tears, The trident leaf, full-veined, appears, With quivering voice she cries aloud: "Oh, Love, thou sleep'st in starless shroud!"
124

And he? Alas! in gray, grave bed, He sleeps for aye, among earth's dead, Nor heeds sweet spring, nor cares, nor knows, Where any pulsing heart-leaf grows; With blood vems dry, and heart-beats still, He recks no wind that blows at will, But dumbly lies through changing hours, "Neath sunny skies and summer showers.
Up spring the leaves! The years will come And go. The brown bee's drowsy hum Will wake the buds, whilst sadly, she Will stir the wood loam mournfully. And though her soul's twin soul has passed Beyond her piteous call, at last Will shine for her, through eyes, tear-wet, Heart leaves in sunshine freshly set.
The Poor Man's Inheritance.
Thar aint no place in this world of wo', Per the man that's sick, or the man that's po', And the very best thing that he can do Is to step aside for the passin' show.
Thar aint no place for the man that's true, Th' posies he gathers are wisps of rue; And thar aint no hope for th' man that's down An' for him thar aint no skies of blue.
125

This world's for the rich and strong. They frown On th' too much life, as the show goes roun', An' the sooner the burden is laid aside, Th' sooner hell ware th' golden crown.
For when heaven's portals are opened wide, An' the soul by sufferin's deified; The voice of the po' man's God will say: "Come into thine own, my child, abide!"
Soul-Flight.
Upward through ethers of sunshine I'm sailing, Borne on fair billows of translucent light;
Echoes of dream-bells behind me are failing-- Backward the limitless length of my flight.
Far, far behind me the past lingers, lowly Lying in fallows and shadows of gloom;
Upward the future, immaculate, holy, Leads me to God and the lote's perfume.
Onward through ethers of sunshine uplifted, Into the regions of exquisite joy,
Whither my soul with strange rapture hath drifted Safely through shadows that no longer cloy,
Far, far behind me the shame and the fleering, Lost in the river of anguish and pain;
Upward my spirit God's angel is steering Straight to the shores of the heavenly plain. 126

Upward through ethers of sunshine I'm speeding Into an atmosphere stormless and sweet;
All of life's sorrows are swiftly receding, Slipping the hindering clogs from my feet.
Far, far behind me the wrongs and oppressions Melt in the wonderful sea of God-love,
And all of the sin and unconscious transgressions Fade in the sunlight that streams from above.
His Book.
Alas, what profit shall it be If all the world you gain,
Unless your name in God's Book shows, Ifs letters clean and plain.
Men live for vain show on this earth, And strive for glittering gold,
But it will be as naught to them, If they their souls have sold.
Time wears from off the ledges, names Carved on the living stone,
And from the minds of men efface The deeds heroic done.
But if within His Book, your name Is placed, it will remain,
Then live to find it when you die, Recorded without stain. 127

The Message.
Christ from splendid star-heights, Did'st lean to me and say,
"Past Earth's silent, dark nights, Shines the Golden-Day."
Christ from tranquil cloud-waves, Promulged this message sweet,
"The shining path to heaven saves The thorn pricks from thy feet."
Then,--the Savior, God-sent, Gave man His blessed word,
Whispered, "Courage!" Hope lent My spirit wings. I heard!
Farewell.
Farewell! the day has come at last, When I must say the fatal word. Hope from my heart has swiftly passed As flight of migratory bird.
It was a foolish thing to do, To idly dream that life could be Of happy days, or skies of blue, To anyone so 'reft as me.
128

The stars foretold it on the sky, My crinkled palm did prove its truth; And my own heart did prophesy The saddest dream of life, forsooth 1
Farewell, a broken heart outlives The hopes it buries, one by one; And not a grief but coldly gives Its cruel wound, when love is done.
Farewell, I go with faltering feet, Into a strange and unknown land, Remembering things most dear and sweet, And that you could not understand.
The Dreamer's Triumph.
Oh, Earth, with your garlands of bitter, wild rue, How had you no blossoms for one heart that knew Hie fullness of every deep sorrow that's known-- The merciless pain of a life lived alone?
Why gave you no rose from the garden of God-- Why gave you no violet fresh from the sod-- Why gave you but withered things, dry with the stain Of wrongs freshly grafted on Shame, and Disdain?
129

How had you no delicate, subtle perfume, To sift with the silver mist into the gloom ? How had you no star-beams to snare in the cloud That fell on his Dream with the chill of a shroud?
Why gave you but portions of Wormwood, and tears To eager, fond lips that went thirsting for years? How had you no wonderful, strange, stirring bliss To offer the soul that could swoon through a kiss?
Enough! He defies you! His spirit divine, Exults in an ecstasy born of the Vine. Enough! He was God's. Now his lips, laughter-riven, Are drinking the sun-colored waters of heaven.
His eyes that grew weary with fixing the stars, Look down on the world through the night's crystal
bars. Earth, take back your bitter-weeds, plant them anew. The Dreamer is dreaming with no thought of you!
130

Unity.
You count the weary hours through; Dear one, I live them o'er with you! Your hand gropes through the fading light; Mine reaches towards the deepening night I Your sad eyes fix the gloom atway; My gaze rests on the shadows gray! Your white lips murmur low a prayer; I speak into the Listening Earl Your heart is bared to God's dear eyes; My heart beside it bleeding lies! You ask your God to lead you through The Vale of Tears: He hears me, too.
Beyond the Trackless Waste.
There is a wide and trackless waste O'er which we came, through which we go,
Upon whose fadeless gloom is traced, The waving lines of pain and woe.
Few are the flowers that fringe the way, Rare are the springs that wet the sod;
The days are dark with nighfs delay, But on the other side is God.
131

Content to Follow Thee.
Content am I to follow Thee, Although the way be bleak and wild,
The light I will not ask to see, But trust thee aa * little child.
If scorching winds with mighly hate; Beat on me from a lurid sky,
I will with calmness meet my fate, Nor let escape one bitter cry.
Content am I to follow Thee. Where'er Thou lead'st me I will go,
In patience and humility, Nor ask the pace be swift, or slow.
For should I some time lose the way, And call, I know Thy blessed face,
Will shine upon the sunless day, And guide me back to my lost place.
I Thank Thee Lord.
I thank Thee, Lord, because I live With loving heart, and patient mind;
Because I have the gift to give, Of sympathy to all my kind. 132

I thank Thee, too, because my years, Along1 Life's barren waste have lain;
And for the sweet and human tears, Thereon dissolved like summer rain.
I thank Thee for each sad mistake, That seemed to wreck some cherished dreamy
Nor would I mend the piteous break 'Twixt Then, and Now, or hide the seam.
I know, O Lord, Thy gentle hands Have led me safe through heat and cold;
Because my soul now understands That peace within the Shepherd's fold.
Therefore, I thank Thee, Lord, because Thou didst not leave me to the blast,
" with unfailing love that draws, Led me to Thy dear feet at last.
His Love.
If I should from the Shepherd's fold, Stray into tortuous paths of sin, Still would His sheltering arms enfold Me, when the long nights shut me in.
And when on shambling seas of doubt, By some sad risk, my soul is tossed, He will not say, "Stand thou without, The perlieus of My love, O, lost."
133

But He, my Saviour, Lord and King, Will look into my human heart, And weighing all the hopes I bring, Ordain me for a nobler part
So if earth's way seems strange and rough, And thorns my faltering steps impede, Some day a voice will call, "Enough!" And God-lips kiss the wounds that bleed.
I Will Obey.
So long I trod the fields of Doubt, So long my poor feet wandered hi
The purple paths that wind without The borderland of earthly sin!
So long, with heart by misery drained, I waited for His lips to say:
"Love's sacrifice is not disdained. Come now!" He said: "Come and Obey!"
So long upon the mountain side I hung, too spent with woe and strife,
And noonday's glare to open wide My closed heart to Light and Life.
So long the crimson shadows grew To flames that leaped upon the day,
And dried up my soul's fresh, sweet dew, Then, Lord," I cried, "I will obey!" 134

So long my ship by Sorrow manned, Beat on the waves of Pain's great sea;
The tempest bore me far from land, To wrecking shoals called "Self' and "Me,"
So long! I could but hold my arms To heaven and cry, "Show me the way!"
The Vision said, "Thy sin's alarms Make thee afraid. Love and obey."
So long I groped without one star, To glow upon my life's long night!
So long I fixed my gaze afar, To meet the morning's matchless light!
"So long," thought I, "The shroud of Death Will fold me in! Alway, alway,
I must stop here!" Light as a breath Of love, One called, "My child. Obey!"
So long it seemed my faltering faith Knew not the mercy of his love!
But now whene'er His dear lips saith "Obey," I lift my eyes above.
And I will, through life's changing years By failure gloomed, by grief made gray,
With patience wipe my bloody tears On His white robe. "I will obey!"

Alone.
Where the whispering water's flowing, And the brown bees hum,
She will wander, never knowing Why the May-weeds sweet are blowing,
Blowing though one does not come.
If the drowsy bee-hum haunts her, Grief shell hide away;
Nor heed Life's song that taunts her, Nor see the rose that flaunts her
Charms upon the summer day.
If the hamadryads' laughter Breaks upon the night,
She will grow daft, and dafter, As memory troops after
Memory, in strange delight.
For she thinks of hours that blessed her, Through the days now dead,
Of hands that once caressed her, Of lips that fondly pressed her,
Thinks she still, uneomforted
136

Mnemosyne.
Linger Mnemosyne, leave not my side; May-weeds have opened their timid eyes wide; June with its showers of roses and dew, Resolve on Faith's bosom each token of roe. Whiter than jasmines, the stars with delight, Clinging like kisses, fall soft on the night. Linger, and yield to me dreams that enfold Hearts ere the passions of life have grown cold.
Linger Mnemosyne, years that have flown, Hinted of pleasures I never have known; Whispered through flower-lips, fragrant and gay, Promises unfulfilled. Hope on a day Sifted the dream potion into my eyes, Led then my willing feet into Love's skies; Wove me a fanciful dream of delight, Crowned me, and kissed me--and left me the night.
Linger Mnemosyne, spirit of Love-- Vague and elusive as clouds wraiths above-- Linger and hold to my lips for awhile The cup that is potent with dreams to beguile. Linger, and waken the thoughts that have slept Whilst thy pale blossoms have silently crept Up through the mould of the long winter's gloom, Dreamfully, tenderly, veiling Love's tomb.
137

Admonition.
You must not think because a cloud Has drifted o'er your sky,
That every sunbeam in a shroud, Will gloomily pass by.
Perchance your heart may ache today, And tears o'erflow your cheeks;
But sorrow always turns away, When Love leans near and speaks.
Take, then, the golden key of Hope, Haste to the sacred shrine,
And at the feet of Psyche ope Life's spikenard, rose and wine.
The goal of those who linger here Should be the shrine of love--
Beyond--the fields of eglantere With Heaven and God above.
Tig but a little while we stay Within this vale of gloom,
Then snare the sunshine on the way. To light you to the tomb.
138

Let This be Said.
Let this be said, when I am dead: She brought no tear to weary eyes,
Nor smote the fallen with a stone, When from the dust he could not rise.
Let this be said: although life's way Was grown with thorns that pierced her feet
She found the time to wipe the blood From other wounds, and found it sweet.
Let this be said: her heart was quick To light love's fragrant, holy flame,
Upon the darkness of the night, Where other hearts were lost in shame.
And when the truth is kindly said, Or written so that men may read,
The world will know and understand, The tenets of my simple creed.
A Prayer.
God bless the men who do good deeds. God bless them all who have broad creeds. Who love their neighbors, and can see, The noblest in Humanity.
139

Compensation.
With youth, life is so broad and fair; So sweet a tiling, all plumed for flight, Each hope and joy that blossoms where The heart is young, glows in love light.
With age, life is so dark and deep I So sad a thing! o'er shrouded dreams With aching hearts we sadly weep, Nor tune our lips to happier themes.
Youth pays its fief with golden days, With clinging hands and passion's breath, But age, with eager, 'anxious eyes, Turns to the steadfast eyes of Death I
The Play of Life.
Born but to view the passing Show, Within this world, and then to go. Grim, silent, into darkness deep, That wraps us in a dreamless sleep.
In youth, to join the moving throng, With quickened hopes; desires strong; And then, with noon-heat's blinding glare, To feel a piteous heart despair.
140

To watch a pageant made of shams; A warfare waged with battering rams; That crush with cruel force the heart, As sadly we play out our part.
At evening, gray of purple shade, A voiceless moor, where unafraid, With fading eyes we turn to death, Whose gentle hand shuts off our breath.
And this is Life! And Death? Ah, well, Tis we ourselves make heaven or hell, And who knows what is shut within, The space beyond this House of Sin?
Then, let us, faithful to the trust, Of Life, play well, as play we must,-- And when the Prompter gives the cue, Just do the best that we can do.
A Fragment.
By luminous star worlds I'm soaring, To regions of infinite space
Where my Soul with rapture adoring, Shalt look on thy sainted, fair face.
Through regions of exquisite sigh-waves, On wings of ecstatic delight,
To fathom the deeps of the sky-graves, By Faith I am borne in my flight.
141

Thou, sweetly enwrapped in the essence Forever outflowing from Love,
Divine in His wonderful presence, Wilt anchor my spirit above.
Tears.
When thou thy little hand didst lay Against my quivering throat, I felt
The ice-bands that were holding me Thrill, pulse and glow, then--swiftly melt O, happy tears t
Flashed o'er the darkness of my soul An ether fine as heavenly gold,
That touched to radiant light the dim, Dark, unlocked waves that thro' me rolled O, blessed tears 1 Refreshing tears!
How swift they soothed my fevered eyes, When 'gainst my Kps thy lips were pressed;
And thou, unconscious of the sighs Tumultuous surging in my breast,
Didst laughing turn, and steal away In happy mood from me today . . . O, welcome tears! Long-sleeping tears!
A touch, a kiss hath wakened thee, Fast-flowing tears! 142

Life.
Life is a flower rhat opens in the warm sunlight, That glows with colors rich and bright, rhat withers under winter's blight,
And dies within an hour.
Life is a bird That lifts its downy wings and fliea Far upward to the azure skies, Then shuts its twinkling eyes to die
Its song unheard.
Life is a cloud That floats about through distant spheres, That on its bosom ofttime wears The changeful hue of hopes and fears,
Then weaves its shroud.
Life is a star That trembling hangs high in the air, In bright, uncertain brilliancy; Then shuts its twinkling eyes to die
In purple seas afar.
Life is a boat That drifts out on a tranquil sea Or beats about te/npestously, The voyage has been sad to me,
Sweet joy remote. 143

The Bodhi Tree.
There is a piteous, paltry That holds in thrall the feeble mind,
Blinding the sight to God's great Truth And making slaves of all mankind.
Men call it "self," and "I," and "Me," Tia vanquished 'neath the Bodhi Tree.
One, journeying in the East, at last Came to its roots while morning bright
With crimson lips and rosy hands, Caressed away the frown of night.
With Mara face to face he stood And triumphed o'er Sin's vicious brood.
He sought the Truth and This he gained; Nirvana's perfect stirless rest.
Go thou and likewise conquer all The evils in thy human breast.
By devas guarded thou wilt see Self vanish 'neath the Blessed Tree.
Poverty.
He is not poor, who hath no crust to eat, Nor rag to wear,
But he who hath no incense in his heart For holy prayer.
144

God's World and Man's.
God shaped a world and man made one; For man's, the gold, the dark clods hold;
For God's, the sun!
Of shining threads the Dreamer spun A fragile net, inwrought, and set.
With jewels won!
He worked within the world of man, In darkened ways, through lonely days.
Beneath the ban.
"in snare my dreams some day," he said, Then spun and wove his dreams of love
With colors red!
In God's sweet world, a woman dwelt, And she was fair, with fragrant hair
And eyes that melt!
Said she, "The dreams and songs of tfcpe m scatter when the souls of men
In darkness grope,
That they may know the world of God Is theirs to win, and enter in,
From their gray clod!" 145

One day the Dreamer's net was spread Upon the Sea of Mystery
And he was dead!
God made a world and man made one, Faith bridged the two with sky of blue,
And bow of sun.
The Resurrection.
From the shadow of the cross, From the gloom the grave encloses,
From love's sorrow and earth's loss, Reach your hand for God's sweet roses;
Hail the day with voice of gladness! Count as gain, the past of sadness! He, who for the sinner died,
Takes your crown of thorns and pleading, Turns to you all patient-eyed,-
Whilst your tears are fast receding. Lo! the day so full of beauty, Brings reward for strength and duty.
The King's Great Fete.
I may not at the King's great fete, Rush in and say, "This place is mine!"
Nor yet elect to sit hi state-- I must fall humbly into line. 146

If my poor heart with hunger starves, I may not filch one crust of bread,
Nor ask for meat, until He carves The boar, and says: "Thou shalt be fed!"
If purple juice overflows the bowl, And my dumb lips by thirst are bound,
I may not drowse my tortured soul, Until the loving cup goes round!
If on the board, pomegranate seed, Glows like a bed of living fire,
I still must hide my wretched greed, Although my tongue burns with desire!
For I am but a bidden guest, Who may not cry, "Libations pour!
The hours drag!" His dear behest In time will yield enough, and more!
A Life.
The hour has passed for the Dreamer To dream, and the stress has begun,
He stands in the valley at morning, At eve, at the end of the run. Benind are the dead, and the dying, Ahead is the westering sun, The night gently falls, and the battle For rest has been gallantly won.
147

The Last Voyage.
My boat has been set for the sailing, With Death as a pilot and guide.
And terrors of Life unavailing, Shout over the distance wide.
I hear the call over the water, Of fierce voices, stridant, and loud-- "Already an angel has caught her
Soft fingers in. fashioning shroud!"
The sail has been trimmed for the going, And deep is the swell of the sea,
The canvas is stiff in the blowing, But Jesus is strengthening me.
I look to my Pilot, and gently He turns His soft eyes unto mine,
I think of the future contently, Nor gaze for a moment behind.
My boat has set out on its journey. There are blossoms of foam in its wake,
And the lance the sun bears to the tourney, He bears but to shatter and break.
The red drops the greedy sea feeding, Are tears that I shed from my pain,
They sprang from a heart freshly bleeding, But will never run bitter again.
148

My boat has been set for the sailing, And some time--I never ask where--
My Pilot with love never failing, Will anchor me safe over There.
All quiet, with faith ever springing; Anew in my heart like a rose,
A strain of God's cherubim singing, I catch, aa my eyes gently close.
149

Locations