Back Aa

House of the Trees and Other Poems

<hr class="full" /> <div class="figcenter"> <ANTIMG src="images/cover.jpg" width-obs="318" height-obs="500" alt="" title="" /></div> <div class="figcenter"> <ANTIMG src="images/front.jpg" width-obs="260" height-obs="500" alt="portrait of the author." title="" /></div> <div class="figcenter"> <ANTIMG src="images/i_title.jpg" width-obs="256" height-obs="500" alt="THE HOUSE OF THE TREES & OTHER POEMS · ETHELWYN · · WETHERALD · LAMSON, WOLFFE & CO. BOSTON AND NEW YORK WILLIAM BRIGGS, TORONTO" title="" /></div> Copyright, 1895, By Lamson, Wolffe, & Co. All rights reserved. To F. B. <div class="blockquot"> Many of the poems in this volume are printed here for the first time; several, however, have appeared in either the “New York Independent,” the “New England Magazine,” the “Youth’s Companion,” the “Toronto Week,” or the “Travelers’ Record,” and to their editors thanks are due for permission to reprint them. </div> <h2>Contents</h2> <table border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" summary=""> <tr><td>The House of the Trees</td><td class="rt" valign="bottom">Page 3</td></tr> <tr><td>The Sun on the Trees</td><td class="rt" valign="bottom">4</td></tr> <tr><td>Moonlight</td><td class="rt" valign="bottom">5</td></tr> <tr><td>Pine Needles</td><td class="rt" valign="bottom">6</td></tr> <tr><td>The Sound of the Axe</td><td class="rt" valign="bottom">7</td></tr> <tr><td>The Prayer of the Year</td><td class="rt" valign="bottom">9</td></tr> <tr><td>The Hay Field</td><td class="rt" valign="bottom">10</td></tr> <tr><td>Twilight</td><td class="rt" valign="bottom">12</td></tr> <tr><td>The Sky Path</td><td class="rt" valign="bottom">13</td></tr> <tr><td>Fall and Spring</td><td class="rt" valign="bottom">14</td></tr> <tr><td>The Woodside Way</td><td class="rt" valign="bottom">15</td></tr> <tr><td>A Rainy Day</td><td class="rt" valign="bottom">16</td></tr> <tr><td>When Twilight Comes</td><td class="rt" valign="bottom">17</td></tr> <tr><td>Leafless April</td><td class="rt" valign="bottom">18</td></tr> <tr><td>The Visitors</td><td class="rt" valign="bottom">19</td></tr> <tr><td>Autumn Days</td><td class="rt" valign="bottom">20</td></tr> <tr><td>Woodland Worship</td><td class="rt" valign="bottom">21</td></tr> <tr><td>When Days Are Long</td><td class="rt" valign="bottom">22</td></tr> <tr><td>Out of Doors</td><td class="rt" valign="bottom">23</td></tr> <tr><td>Make Room</td><td class="rt" valign="bottom">24</td></tr> <tr><td>The Humming Bird</td><td class="rt" valign="bottom">25</td></tr> <tr><td>September</td><td class="rt" valign="bottom">26</td></tr> <tr><td>The March Orchard</td><td class="rt" valign="bottom">28</td></tr> <tr><td>The Blind Man</td><td class="rt" valign="bottom">30</td></tr> <tr><td>To the October Wind</td><td class="rt" valign="bottom">32</td></tr> <tr><td>A Midday in Midsummer</td><td class="rt" valign="bottom">33</td></tr> <tr><td>A Slow Rain</td><td class="rt" valign="bottom">35</td></tr> <tr><td>The Patient Earth</td><td class="rt" valign="bottom">36</td></tr> <tr><td>At Dawn</td><td class="rt" valign="bottom">39</td></tr> <tr><td>In the Crowd</td><td class="rt" valign="bottom">41</td></tr> <tr><td>By Fields of Grass</td><td class="rt" valign="bottom">42</td></tr> <tr><td>October</td><td class="rt" valign="bottom">43</td></tr> <tr><td>Winter</td><td class="rt" valign="bottom">44</td></tr> <tr><td>The Snow-Storm</td><td class="rt" valign="bottom">45</td></tr> <tr><td>To February</td><td class="rt" valign="bottom">46</td></tr> <tr><td>Rest</td><td class="rt" valign="bottom">47</td></tr> <tr><td>The Shy Sun</td><td class="rt" valign="bottom">48</td></tr> <tr><td>In April</td><td class="rt" valign="bottom">49</td></tr> <tr><td>Apple Blossoms</td><td class="rt" valign="bottom">50</td></tr> <tr><td>The Big Moon</td><td class="rt" valign="bottom">51</td></tr> <tr><td>The Twins</td><td class="rt" valign="bottom">53</td></tr> <tr><td>Autumn Fire</td><td class="rt" valign="bottom">55</td></tr> <tr><td>In the Grass</td><td class="rt" valign="bottom">56</td></tr> <tr><td>The Fields of Dark</td><td class="rt" valign="bottom">57</td></tr> <tr><td>Children in the City</td><td class="rt" valign="bottom">59</td></tr> <tr><td>Where Pleasures Grow</td><td class="rt" valign="bottom">60</td></tr> <tr><td>In the Heart of the Woods</td><td class="rt" valign="bottom">61</td></tr> <tr><td>Frost</td><td class="rt" valign="bottom">62</td></tr> <tr><td>The Chipmunk</td><td class="rt" valign="bottom">63</td></tr> <tr><td>Give Me the Poorest Weed</td><td class="rt" valign="bottom">64</td></tr> <tr><td>The Weeks that Walk in Green</td><td class="rt" valign="bottom">65</td></tr> <tr><td>Noonday of the Year</td><td class="rt" valign="bottom">66</td></tr> <tr><td>At the Window</td><td class="rt" valign="bottom">68</td></tr> <tr><td>Come Back Again</td><td class="rt" valign="bottom">69</td></tr> <tr><td>A Rainy Morning</td><td class="rt" valign="bottom">71</td></tr> <tr><td>June Apples</td><td class="rt" valign="bottom">72</td></tr> <tr><td>Beginning and End</td><td class="rt" valign="bottom">73</td></tr> <tr><td>Not at Home</td><td class="rt" valign="bottom">75</td></tr> <tr><td>The Wind of Memory</td><td class="rt" valign="bottom">76</td></tr> <tr><td>Philippa</td><td class="rt" valign="bottom">78</td></tr> <tr><td>The Student</td><td class="rt" valign="bottom">79</td></tr> <tr><td>Unspoken</td><td class="rt" valign="bottom">80</td></tr> <tr><td>Under the King</td><td class="rt" valign="bottom">83</td></tr> <tr><td>The Secret</td><td class="rt" valign="bottom">84</td></tr> <tr><td>Limitation</td><td class="rt" valign="bottom">85</td></tr> <tr><td>Three Years Old</td><td class="rt" valign="bottom">86</td></tr> <tr><td>Sometime, I Fear</td><td class="rt" valign="bottom">88</td></tr> <tr><td>Joy</td><td class="rt" valign="bottom">89</td></tr> <tr><td>In the Dark</td><td class="rt" valign="bottom">91</td></tr> <tr><td>Words</td><td class="rt" valign="bottom">92</td></tr> <tr><td>The Wind of Death</td><td class="rt" valign="bottom">93</td></tr> </table> {3} <h1>The House of the Trees</h1> <h2>The House of the Trees</h2> <div class="poetry"> <div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> OPE your doors and take me in, Spirit of the wood; Wash me clean of dust and din, Clothe me in your mood. </div> <div class="stanza"> Take me from the noisy light To the sunless peace, Where at midday standeth Night, Signing Toil’s release. </div> <div class="stanza"> All your dusky twilight stores To my senses give; Take me in and lock the doors, Show me how to live. </div> <div class="stanza"> Lift your leafy roof for me, Part your yielding walls, Let me wander lingeringly Through your scented halls. </div> <div class="stanza"> Ope your doors and take me in, Spirit of the wood; Take me—make me next of kin To your leafy brood. </div> </div></div> {4} <h2>The Sun on the Trees</h2> <div class="poetry"> <div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> THE sun within the leafy woods Is like a midday moon, So soft upon these solitudes Is bent the face of noon. </div> <div class="stanza"> Loosed from the outside summer blaze A few gold arrows stray; A vagrant brilliance droops or plays Through all the dusky day. </div> <div class="stanza"> The gray trunk feels a touch of light, While, where dead leaves are deep, A gleam of sunshine golden white Lies like a soul asleep. </div> <div class="stanza"> And just beyond dank-rooted ferns, Where darkening hemlocks sigh And leaves are dim, the bare road burns Beneath a dazzling sky. </div> </div></div> {5} <h2>Moonlight</h2> <div class="poetry"> <div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> WHEN I see the ghost of night Stealing through my window-pane, Silken sleep and silver light Struggle for my soul in vain; Silken sleep all balmily Breathes upon my lids oppressed, Till I sudden start to see Ghostly fingers on my breast. </div> <div class="stanza"> White and skyey visitant, Bringing beauty such as stings All my inner soul to pant After undiscovered things, Spare me this consummate pain! Silken weavings intercreep Round my senses once again, I am mortal—let me sleep. </div> </div></div> {6} <h2>Pine Needles</h2> <div class="poetry"> <div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> HERE where the pine tree to the ground Lets slip its fragrant load, My footsteps fall without a sound Upon a velvet road. </div> <div class="stanza"> O poet pine, that turns thy gaze Alone unto the sky, How softly on earth’s common ways Thy sweet thoughts fall and lie! </div> <div class="stanza"> So sweet, so deep, seared by the sun, And smitten by the rain, They pierce the heart of every one With fragrance keen as pain. </div> <div class="stanza"> Or if some pass nor heed their sweet, Nor feel their subtle dart, Their softness stills the noisy feet, And stills the noisy heart. </div> <div class="stanza"> O poet pine, thy needles high In starry light abode, And now for footsore passers-by They make a velvet road. </div> </div></div> {7} <h2>The Sound of the Axe</h2> <div class="poetry"> <div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> WITH the sound of an axe on the light wind’s tracks For my only company, And a speck of sky like a human eye Blue, bending over me, </div> <div class="stanza"> I lie at rest on the low moss pressed, Whose loose leaves downward drip; As light they move as a word of love Or a finger to the lip. </div> <div class="stanza"> ’Neath the canopies of the sunbright trees Pierced by an Autumn ray, To rich red flakes the old log breaks In exquisite decay. </div> <div class="stanza"> While in the pines where no sun shines Perpetual morning lies. What bed more sweet could stay her feet, Or hold her dreaming eyes? </div> <div class="stanza"> No sound is there in the middle air But sudden wings that soar,{8} As a strange bird’s cry goes drifting by— And then I hear once more </div> <div class="stanza"> That sound of an axe till the great tree cracks, Then a crash comes as if all The winds that through its bright leaves blew Were sorrowing in its fall. </div> </div></div> {9} <h2>The Prayer of the Year</h2> <div class="poetry"> <div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> LEAVE me Hope when I am old, Strip my joys from me, Let November to the cold Bare each leafy tree; Chill my lover, dull my friend, Only, while I grope To the dark the silent end, Leave me Hope! </div> <div class="stanza"> Blight my bloom when I am old, Bid my sunlight cease; If it need be from my hold Take the hand of Peace. Leave no springtime memory, But upon the slope Of the days that are to be, Leave me Hope! </div> </div></div> {10} <h2>The Hay Field</h2> <div class="poetry"> <div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> WITH slender arms outstretching in the sun The grass lies dead; The wind walks tenderly, and stirs not one Frail, fallen head. </div> <div class="stanza"> Of baby creepings through the April day Where streamlets wend, Of childlike dancing on the breeze of May, This is the end. </div> <div class="stanza"> No more these tiny forms are bathed in dew, No more they reach, To hold with leaves that shade them from the blue A whispered speech. </div> <div class="stanza"> No more they part their arms, and wreathe them close Again to shield Some love-full little nest—a dainty house Hid in a field.{11} </div> <div class="stanza"> For them no more the splendor of the storm, The fair delights Of moon and star-shine, glimmering faint and warm On summer nights. </div> <div class="stanza"> Their little lives they yield in summer death, And frequently Across the field bereaved their dying breath Is brought to me. </div> </div></div> {12} <h2>Twilight</h2> <div class="poetry"> <div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> I SAW her walking in the rain, And sweetly drew she nigh; And then she crossed the hills again To bid the day good-by. “Good-by! good-by! The world is dim as sorrow; But close beside the morning sky I’ll say a glad Good-morrow!” </div> <div class="stanza"> O dweller in the darling wood, When near to death I lie, Come from your leafy solitude, And bid my soul good-by. Good-by! good-by! The world is dim as sorrow; But close beside the morning sky O say a glad Good-morrow! </div> </div></div> {13} <h2>The Sky Path</h2> <div class="poetry"> <div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> I HEAR the far moon’s silver call High in the upper wold; And shepherd-like it gathers all My thoughts into its fold. </div> <div class="stanza"> Oh happy thoughts, that wheresoe’er They wander through the day, Come home at eve to upper air Along a shining way. </div> <div class="stanza"> Though some are weary, some are torn, And some are fain to grieve, And some the freshness of the morn Have kept until the eve, </div> <div class="stanza"> And some perversely seek to roam E’en from their shepherd bright, Yet all are gathered safely home, And folded for the night. </div> <div class="stanza"> Oh happy thoughts, that with the streams The trees and meadows share The sky path to the gate of dreams, In their white shepherd’s care. </div> </div></div> {14} <h2>Fall and Spring</h2> <div class="poetry"> <div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> FROM the time the wind wakes To the time of snowflakes, That’s the time the heart aches Every cloudy day; That’s the time the heart takes Thought of all its heart-breaks, That’s the time the heart makes Life a cloudy way. </div> <div class="stanza"> From the time the grass creeps To the time the wind sleeps, That’s the time the heart leaps To the golden ray; That’s the time that joy sweeps Through the depths of heart-deeps, That’s the time the heart keeps Happy holiday. </div> </div></div> {15} <h2>The Woodside Way</h2> <div class="poetry"> <div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> I WANDERED down the woodside way, Where branching doors ope with the breeze, And saw a little child at play Among the strong and lovely trees; The dead leaves rustled to her knees; Her hair and eyes were brown as they. </div> <div class="stanza"> “Oh, little child,” I softly said, “You come a long, long way to me; The trees that tower overhead Are here in sweet reality, But you’re the child I used to be, And all the leaves of May you tread.” </div> </div></div> {16} <h2>A Rainy Day</h2> <div class="poetry"> <div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> IT has been twilight all the day, And as the twilight peace On daily fetters seems to lay The finger of release, </div> <div class="stanza"> So, needless as to tree and flower Seem care and fear and pain; Our hearts grow fresher every hour, And brighten in the rain. </div> </div></div> {17} <h2>When Twilight Comes</h2> <div class="poetry"> <div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> ALL out of doors for all life’s way, The fields and the woods and the good sunlight; And then in the chill of the evening gray, A sheltered nook and the hearth-fire bright. </div> <div class="stanza"> No hearth, no shelter attend my way! Not late, dear life, linger not too late; But before the chill and before the gray, Let the sunset gild the grave-stone date. </div> </div></div> {18} <h2>Leafless April</h2> <div class="poetry"> <div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> LEAFLESS April chased by light, Chased by dark and full of laughter, Stays a moment in her flight Where the warmest breezes waft her, By the meadow brook to lean, Or where winter rye is growing, Showing in a lovelier green Where her wayward steps are going. </div> <div class="stanza"> Blithesome April brown and warm, Showing slimness through her tatters, Chased by sun or chased by storm— Not a whit to her it matters. Swiftly through the violet bed, Down to where the stream is flooding Light she flits—and round her head See the orchard branches budding! </div> </div></div> {19} <h2>The Visitors</h2> <div class="poetry"> <div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> IN the room where I was sleeping The sun came to the floor; Its silent thought went leaping To where in woods of yore It felt the sun before. </div> <div class="stanza"> At noon the rain was slanting In gray lines from the west; A hurried child all panting It pattered to my nest, And smiled when sun-caressed. </div> <div class="stanza"> At eve the wind was flying Bird-like from bed to chair, Of brown leaves sere and dying It brought enough to spare, And dropped them here and there. </div> <div class="stanza"> At night-time without warning, I felt almost to pain The soul of the sun in the morning, And the soul of the wind and rain In my sleeping-room remain. </div> </div></div> {20} <h2>Autumn Days</h2> <div class="poetry"> <div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> AUTUMN days are sun crowned, Full of laughing breath; Light their leafy feet are dancing Down the way to death. </div> <div class="stanza"> Scarlet-shrouded to the grave I watch them gayly go; So may I as blithely die Before November snow. </div> </div></div> {21} <h2>Woodland Worship</h2> <div class="poetry"> <div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> HERE ’mid these leafy walls Are sylvan halls, And all the Sabbaths of the year Are gathered here. </div> <div class="stanza"> Upon their raptured mood My steps intrude, Then wait—as some freed soul might wait At heaven’s gate. </div> <div class="stanza"> Nowhere on earth—nowhere On sea or air, Do I as easily escape This earthly shape, </div> <div class="stanza"> As here upon the white And dizzy height Of utmost worship, where it seems Too still for dreams. </div> </div></div> {22} <h2>When Days Are Long</h2> <div class="poetry"> <div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> WHEN twilight late delayeth, And morning wakes in song, And fields are full of daisies, I know the days are long; When Toil is stretched at nooning, Where leafy pleasures throng, When nights o’errun in music, I know the days are long. </div> <div class="stanza"> When suns afoot are marching, And rains are quick and strong, And streams speak in a whisper, I know the days are long. When hills are clad in velvet, And winds can do no wrong, And woods are deep and dusky, I know the days are long. </div> </div></div> {23} <h2>Out of Doors</h2> <div class="poetry"> <div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> IN the urgent solitudes Lies the spur to larger moods; In the friendship of the trees Dwell all sweet serenities. </div> </div></div> {24} <h2>Make Room</h2> <div class="poetry"> <div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> ROOM for the children out of doors, For heads of gold or gloom; For raspberry lips and rose-leaf cheeks and palms, Make room—make room! </div> <div class="stanza"> Room for the springtime out of doors, For buds in green or bloom; For every brown bare-handed country weed Make room—make room! </div> <div class="stanza"> Room for earth’s sweetest out of doors, And for its worst a tomb; For housed-up griefs and fears, and scorns, and sighs, No room—no room! </div> </div></div> {25} <h2>The Humming Bird</h2> <div class="poetry"> <div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> AGAINST my window-pane He plunges at a mass Of buds—and strikes in vain The intervening glass. </div> <div class="stanza"> O sprite of wings and fire Outstretching eagerly, My soul with like desire To probe thy mystery, </div> <div class="stanza"> Comes close as breast to bloom, As bud to hot heart-beat, And gains no inner room, And drains no hidden sweet. </div> </div></div> {26} <h2>September</h2> <div class="poetry"> <div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> BUT yesterday all faint for breath, The Summer laid her down to die; And now her frail ghost wandereth In every breeze that loiters by. Her wilted prisoners look up, As wondering who hath broke their chain, Too deep they drank of summer’s cup, They have no strength to rise again. </div> <div class="stanza"> How swift the trees, their mistress gone, Enrobe themselves for revelry! Ungovernable winds upon The wold are dancing merrily. With crimson fruits and bursting nuts, And whirling leaves and flushing streams, The spirit of September cuts Adrift from August’s languid dreams. </div> <div class="stanza"> A little while the revellers Shall flame and flaunt and have their day, And then will come the messengers Who travel on a cloudy way.{27} </div> <div class="stanza"> And after them a form of light, A sense of iron in the air, Upon the pulse a touch of might And winter’s legions everywhere. </div> </div></div> {28} <h2>The March Orchard</h2> <div class="poetry"> <div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> UNLEAVED, undrooping, still, they stand, This stanch and patient pilgrim band; October robbed them of their fruit, November stripped them to the root, The winter smote their helplessness With furious ire and stormy stress, And now they seem almost to stand In sight of Summer’s Promised Land. </div> <div class="stanza"> Yet seen through frosty window-panes, When bared and bound in wintry chains, Their lightsome spirits seemed to play With February as with May. The snow that turned the skies afrown Enwrapt them in the softest down, And rains that dulled the landscape o’er But left them livelier than before. </div> <div class="stanza"> But now this June-like day of March With patient strength their branches arch, Not as unmindful of the breeze That makes midsummer melodies,{29} But knowing Spring a fickle maid, And that rough days must dawn and fade Before, all blossoming bright, they stand In sight of Summer’s Promised Land. </div> </div></div> {30} <h2>The Blind Man</h2> <div class="poetry"> <div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> THE blind man at his window bars Stands in the morning dewy dim; The lily-footed dawn, the stars That wait for it, are naught to him. </div> <div class="stanza"> And naught to his unseeing eyes The brownness of a sunny plain, Where worn and drowsy August lies, And wakens but to sleep again. </div> <div class="stanza"> And naught to him a greening slope, That yearns up to the heights above, And naught the leaves of May, that ope As softly as the eyes of love. </div> <div class="stanza"> And naught to him the branching aisles, Athrong with woodland worshippers, And naught the fields where summer smiles Among her sunburned laborers. </div> <div class="stanza"> The way a trailing streamlet goes, The barefoot grasses on its brim, The dew a flower cup o’erflows With silent joy, are hid from him.{31} </div> <div class="stanza"> To him no breath of nature calls; Upon his desk his work is laid; He looks up at the dingy walls, And listens to the voice of Trade. </div> </div></div> {32} <h2>To the October Wind</h2> <div class="poetry"> <div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> OLD playmate, showering the way With thick leaf storms in red and gold, I’m only six years old to-day, You’ve made me feel but six years old. In yellow gown and scarlet hood I whirled, a leaf among the rest, Or lay within the thinning wood, And played that you were Red-of-breast. </div> <div class="stanza"> Old comrade, lift me up again; Your arms are strong, your feet are swift, And bear me lightly down the lane Through all the leaves that drift and drift, And out into the twilight wood, And lay me softly down to rest, And cover me just as you would If you were really Red-of-breast. </div> </div></div> {33} <h2>A Midday in Midsummer</h2> <div class="poetry"> <div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> THE sky’s great curtains downward steal, The earth’s fair company Of trees and streams and meadows feel A sense of privacy. </div> <div class="stanza"> Upon the vast expanse of heat Light-footed breezes pace; To waves of gold they tread the wheat, They lift the sunflower’s face. </div> <div class="stanza"> The cruel sun is blotted out, The west is black with rain, The drooping leaves in mingled doubt And hope look up again. </div> <div class="stanza"> The weeds and grass on tiptoe stand, A strange exultant thrill Prepares the dazed uncertain land For the wild tempest’s will. </div> <div class="stanza"> The wind grows big and breathes aloud As it runs hurrying past; At one sharp blow the thunder-cloud Lets loose the furious blast.{34} </div> <div class="stanza"> The earth is beaten, drenched and drowned, The elements go mad; Swift streams of joy flow o’er the ground, And all the leaves are glad. </div> <div class="stanza"> Then comes a momentary lull, The darkest clouds are furled, And lo, new washed and beautiful And breathless gleams the world. </div> </div></div> {35} <h2>A Slow Rain</h2> <div class="poetry"> <div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> A DROWSY rain is stealing In slowness without stop; The sun-dried earth is feeling Its coolness, drop by drop. </div> <div class="stanza"> The clouds are slowly wasting Their too long garnered store, Each thirsty clod is tasting One drop—and then one more. </div> <div class="stanza"> Oh, ravishing as slumber To wearied limbs and eyes, And countless as the number Of stars in wintry skies, </div> <div class="stanza"> And sweet as the caresses By baby fingers made, These delicate rain kisses On leaf and flower and blade. </div> </div></div> {36} <h2>The Patient Earth</h2> <h3>I</h3> <div class="poetry"> <div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> THE patient earth that loves the grass, The flocks and herds that o’er it pass, That guards the smallest summer nest Within her scented bosom pressed, And gives to beetle, moth, and bee A lavish hospitality, Still waits through weary years to bind The hearts of suffering human kind. </div> </div></div> <h3>II</h3> <div class="poetry"> <div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> HOW far we roamed away from her, The tender mother of us all! Yet ’mid the city’s noises stir The sound of birds that call and call, Wind melodies that rise and fall Along the perfumed woodland wall We looked upon with childhood’s eyes; The ugly streets are all a blur, And in our hearts are homesick cries. </div> </div></div> {37} <h3>III</h3> <div class="poetry"> <div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> THE loving earth that roots the trees So closely to her inmost heart, Has rooted us as well as these, Not long from her we live apart; We draw upon a lengthening string, For months perhaps, perhaps for years, And plume ourselves that we are free, And then—we hear a robin sing Where starving grass shows stunted spears, Or haycart moving fragrantly Where creaking tavern sign-boards swing; Then closer, tighter draws the chain, The man, too old and worn for tears, Goes back to be a child again. </div> </div></div> <h3>IV</h3> <div class="poetry"> <div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> THE greed that took us prisoner First led our steps away from her; For lust of gold we gave up life, And sank heart-deep in worldly strife. And when Success—belovèd name— At last with faltering footsteps came, The city’s rough, harsh imps of sound And Competition’s crush and cheat Were in her wreath securely bound;{38} Her fruits still savored of the street, Its choking dust, its wearied feet, Her poorest like her richest prize Was rotted o’er with envious eyes, And sickened with the human heat Of hands that strove to clutch it fast, And struggling gave it up at last. Not so where nature summer-crowned Makes fields and woods a pleasure-ground, Sky-blest, wind-kissed, and circled round With waters lapsing cool and sweet. </div> </div></div> <h3>V</h3> <div class="poetry"> <div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> O EARTH, sweet Mother, take us back! With woodland strength and orchard joy, And river peace without alloy, Flood us who on the city’s track Have followed stifling sordid years, Cleanse us with dew and meadow rain, Till life’s horizon lights and clears, And nature claims us once again. </div> </div></div> {39} <h2>At Dawn</h2> <div class="poetry"> <div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> A SPIRIT through My window came when earth was soft with dew, Close at the tender edge of dawn when all The spring was new, </div> <div class="stanza"> And bore me back Along her rose-and-starry tinted track, And showed me how the full-winged day emerged From out the black. </div> <div class="stanza"> She knew the speech Of all the deep-pink blossoms of the peach, Told in my ear the meanings of the trees, The thoughts of each; </div> <div class="stanza"> Explained to me The language of the bird and frog and bee, The messages the streams and rivers take Unto the sea.{40} </div> <div class="stanza"> Alas! Alas! I have forgot. The dream did from me pass. I know not e’en the meaning dear and sweet Of common grass. </div> <div class="stanza"> And now when I Roam this strange earth beneath a stranger sky, Soft syllables of that forgotten speech Faint as a sigh, </div> <div class="stanza"> Come back again, With sweet solicitings that urge like pain, And brood like love—as full of light and dark As April rain. </div> </div></div> {41} <h2>In the Crowd</h2> <div class="poetry"> <div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> HERE in the crowded city’s busy street, Swayed by the eager, jostling, hasting throng, Where Traffic’s voice grows harsher and more strong, I see within the stream of hurrying feet A company of trees in their retreat, Dew-bathed, dream-wrapped, and with a thrush’s song Emparadising all the place, along Whose paths I hear the pulse of Beauty beat. </div> <div class="stanza"> ’Twas yesterday I walked beneath the trees, To-day I tread the city’s stony ways; And still the spell that o’er my spirit came Turns harshest sounds to shy bird ecstasies, Pours scent of pine through murky chimney haze, And gives each careworn face a woodland frame. </div> </div></div> {42} <h2>By Fields of Grass</h2> <div class="poetry"> <div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> BY fields of grass and woodland silences The city’s tumult is encamped around; The jingling, clanging, shrieking fiends of sound Expire within the wide world-circling breeze. The soul amid a multitude of trees, Or grass enveloped on the fragrant ground, Is lifted to its utmost starry round, And listens to celestial harmonies. </div> <div class="stanza"> From this unspeakably divine rebirth, Its sordid life returning shows through rifts How purely spreads the sky, how musical The streams and breezes flow across the earth, How light the tree its fruity load uplifts, How easily the weed is beautiful. </div> </div></div> {43} <h2>October</h2> <div class="poetry"> <div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> AGAINST the winter’s heav’n of white the blood Of earth runs very quick and hot to-day; A storm of fiery leaves are out at play Around the lingering sunset of the wood. Where rows of blackberries unnoticed stood, Run streams of ruddy color wildly gay; The golden lane half dreaming picks its way Through ’whelming vines, as through a gleaming flood. </div> <div class="stanza"> O warm, outspoken earth, a little space Against thy beating heart my heart shall beat, A little while they twain shall bleed and burn, And then the cold touch and the gray, gray face, The frozen pulse, the drifted winding-sheet, And speechlessness, and the chill burial urn. </div> </div></div> {44} <h2>Winter</h2> <div class="poetry"> <div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> NOW that the earth has hid her lovely brood Of green things in her breast safe out of sight, And all the trees have stripped them for the fight, The winter comes with wild winds singing rude Hoarse battle songs—so furious in feud That nothing lives that has not felt their bite. They sound a trumpet in the dead of night That makes more solitary solitude. </div> <div class="stanza"> Against the forest doors how fierce they beat! Against the porch, against the school-bound boy With crimson cheek bent to his shaggy coat. The earth is pale but steadfast, hearing sweet But far—how far away! the stream of joy Outpouring from a bluebird’s tender throat. </div> </div></div> {45} <h2>The Snow-Storm</h2> <div class="poetry"> <div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> THE great, soft, downy snow-storm like a cloak Descends to wrap the lean world head to feet; It gives the dead another winding-sheet, It buries all the roofs until the smoke Seems like a soul that from its clay has broke; It broods moon-like upon the Autumn wheat, And visits all the trees in their retreat, To hood and mantle that poor shiv’ring folk. </div> <div class="stanza"> With wintry bloom it fills the harshest grooves In jagged pine stump fences. Every sound It hushes to the footstep of a nun. Sweet Charity! that brightens where it moves, Inducing darkest bits of churlish ground To give a radiant answer to the sun. </div> </div></div> {46} <h2>To February</h2> <div class="poetry"> <div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> O MASTER-BUILDER, blustering as you go About your giant work, transforming all The empty woods into a glittering hall, And making lilac lanes and footpaths grow As hard as iron under stubborn snow, Though every fence stand forth a marble wall, And windy hollows drift to arches tall, There comes a might that shall your might o’erthrow. </div> <div class="stanza"> Build high your white and dazzling palaces, Strengthen your bridges, fortify your towers, Storm with a loud and a portentous lip; And April with a fragmentary breeze, And half a score of gentle, golden hours, Shall leave no trace of your stern workmanship. </div> </div></div> {47} <h2>Rest</h2> <div class="poetry"> <div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> FROM the depths of dreams I am drawn To the inner depth of a pine, That near my window keeps the dawn— A dawn that is wholly mine. Dream-rest and pine-rest, And a cool, gray path between— A cool, gray path from the night’s breast To the heart of the living green. </div> <div class="stanza"> To the depths of dreams I go On the sounds of falling rain, That in the night-time gently flow In a stream on my window-pane. Stream-rest and dream-rest, And a cool, dark path between— A cool, dark path from the rain’s breast To the heart of the soft unseen. </div> </div></div> {48} <h2>The Shy Sun</h2> <div class="poetry"> <div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> THE sun went with me to the wood, And lingered at the door; One glance he gave from where he stood, But dared not venture more, </div> <div class="stanza"> Nor knew that in the heart of her Who felt his presence nigh, His love was all the lovelier Because his look was shy. </div> </div></div> {49} <h2>In April</h2> <div class="poetry"> <div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> WHEN Spring unbound comes o’er us like a flood, My spirit slips its bars, And thrills to see the trees break into bud As skies break into stars; </div> <div class="stanza"> And joys that earth is green with eager grass, The heavens gray with rain, And quickens when the spirit breezes pass, And turn and pass again; </div> <div class="stanza"> And dreams upon frog melodies at night, Bird ecstasies at dawn, And wakes to find sweet April at her height And May still beck’ning on; </div> <div class="stanza"> And feels its sordid work, its empty play, Its failures and its stains Dissolved in blossom dew, and washed away In delicate spring rains. </div> </div></div> {50} <h2>Apple Blossoms</h2> <div class="poetry"> <div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> AMID the young year’s breathing hopes, When eager grasses wrap the earth, I see on greening orchard slopes The blossoms trembling into birth. They open wide their rosy palms To feel the hesitating rain, Or beg a longed-for golden alms From skies that deep in clouds have lain. </div> <div class="stanza"> They mingle with the bluebird’s songs, And with the warm wind’s reverie; To sward and stream their snow belongs, To neighboring pines in flocks they flee. O doubly crowned, with breathing hopes The branches bending down to earth, That feel on greening orchard slopes Their blossoms trembling into birth. </div> </div></div> {51} <h2>The Big Moon</h2> <div class="poetry"> <div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> THE big moon came to the edge of the sky, And pierced me with its dart; I strove to put its brightness by Before it burned my heart. </div> <div class="stanza"> I wrapped the windows thick and well, I closely barred the door, The light of my penny candles fell On low-built wall and floor. </div> <div class="stanza"> The little room and the little light Began to comfort me; But I heard—I heard the golden night Call like a sounding sea. </div> <div class="stanza"> I knew the moon swam in the sky, And the earth swam in the moon; I went outside in the grass to lie, To yield to the deadly swoon. </div> <div class="stanza"> My soul was filled with white moon rain Till it ran o’er and o’er, My soul was thrilled with bright moon pain Till it could bear no more;{52} </div> <div class="stanza"> I stole back through the curtained gloom Up stairs unlit and steep, And in a low-ceiled darkened room My hurt was healed with sleep. </div> </div></div> {53} <h2>The Twins</h2> <h3>I</h3> <div class="poetry"> <div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> THE old man and his apple-tree Are verging close on eighty-three; ’Twas planted there when he was two, And almost side by side they grew. How strong and straight they were at eight, One leafy, one with curly pate. How fine at twenty, how alive And prosperous at twenty-five. What health and grace in every limb, Was said of it—was said of him. </div> </div></div> <h3>II</h3> <div class="poetry"> <div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> THEN when he blushed, a marriage groom, The tree outvied the bride in bloom; And in the after years there played Within its ample sweep of shade A little child, with cheeks as red As had the apples overhead. Her father called the tree his twin, And surely it was next of kin. </div> </div></div> {54} <h3>III</h3> <div class="poetry"> <div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> THE best of life came to the twain, The beauty of the stars, the rain, Soft stepping, and the liquid notes That overflow from feathered throats. Unto the soul that selfish strives Was borne the fragrance of their lives, And anxious folk with brow down bent Bathed in their dewy cool content. They held their heads up in the storm, And gloried when the winds were warm; Their shadows lay but at their feet, And all of life above was sweet. </div> </div></div> <h3>IV</h3> <div class="poetry"> <div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> AND now that they are eighty-three They’re almost as they used to be. The blossoms are as pink and white, The old man’s heart as pure and light. The apples—fragrant balls of flame— Are looking, tasting, just the same. And just the same his uttered thought Of mirth and wisdom quaintly wrought. Through all their years they kept their truth, Their strength, and that sweet look of youth. </div> </div></div> {55} <h2>Autumn Fire</h2> <div class="poetry"> <div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> THE fires of Autumn are burning high; Bright the trees in the woods are blazing— A wall of flame from the brilliant sky Down to the fields where the cattle are grazing. O the warm, warm end of the year! Even the shrubs their red hearts render; All the bushes are bright with cheer And the tamest vine has a touch of splendor. </div> <div class="stanza"> The fires of Autumn are burning low; Blow, ye winds, and cease not blowing! Blow the flames to a ruddier show, Heap the coals to a hotter glowing. Ah, the chill, chill end of the year! Naught is left but a few leaf flashes; White is the death stone, white and drear, Over a desolate world of ashes. </div> </div></div> {56} <h2>In the Grass</h2> <div class="poetry"> <div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> FACE downward on the grass in reverie, I found how cool and sweet Are the green glooms that often thoughtlessly I tread beneath my feet. </div> <div class="stanza"> In this strange mimic wood where grasses lean— Elf trees untouched of bark— I heard the hum of insects, saw the sheen Of sunlight framing dark, </div> <div class="stanza"> And felt with thoughts I cannot understand, And know not how to speak, A daisy reaching up its little hand To lay it on my cheek. </div> </div></div> {57} <h2>The Fields of Dark</h2> <div class="poetry"> <div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> THE wreathing vine within the porch Is in the heart of me, The roses that the noondays scorch Shall burn in memory; Alone at night I quench the light, And without star or spark The grass and trees press to my knees, And flowers throng the dark. </div> <div class="stanza"> The leaves that loose their hold at noon Drop on my face like rain, And in the watches of the moon I feel them fall again. By day I stray how far away To stream and wood and steep, But on my track they all come back To haunt the vale of sleep. </div> <div class="stanza"> The fields of light are clover-brimmed, Or grassed or daisy-starred, The fields of dark are softly dimmed, And safely twilight-barred;{58} </div> <div class="stanza"> But in the gloom that fills my room I cannot fail to mark The grass and trees about my knees, The flowers in the dark. </div> </div></div> {59} <h2>Children in the City</h2> <div class="poetry"> <div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> THOUSANDS of childish ears, rough chidden, Never a sweet bird-note have heard, Deep in the leafy woodland hidden Dies, unlistened to, many a bird. For small soiled hands in the sordid city Blossoms open and die unbreathed; For feet unwashed by the tears of pity Streams around meadows of green are wreathed. </div> <div class="stanza"> Warm, unrevelled in, still they wander, Summer breezes out in the fields; Scarcely noticed, the green months squander All the wealth that the summer yields. Ah, the pain of it! Ah, the pity! Opulent stretch the country skies Over solitudes, while in the city Starving for beauty are childish eyes. </div> </div></div> {60} <h2>Where Pleasures Grow</h2> <div class="poetry"> <div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> WHERE pleasures grow as thick as grass, And joys of silence, soft, profound, Are sweeter e’en than joys of sound, The long, long days of summer pass. </div> <div class="stanza"> I see them sitting in the sun, Or moving river-like between The climbing and down-bending green, I watch them vanish one by one, </div> <div class="stanza"> And strive to clasp them as they flee, But only hold their shadows fast— The summer shadows that they cast Upon the path of memory. </div> </div></div> {61} <h2>In the Heart of the Woods</h2> <div class="poetry"> <div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> I LOST my heart in the heart of the woods; It stayed there through the day, It stayed there through the solitudes Of a night with no moon ray. </div> <div class="stanza"> Through the day so dusty, worn and sere My heart was cool and free, Through the wild night, tempest-tossed and drear, My heart slept peacefully. </div> <div class="stanza"> I found my heart in the heart of the woods, I looked on it and smiled; And over it still the woodland broods, As a mother over her child. </div> </div></div> {62} <h2>Frost</h2> <div class="poetry"> <div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> WHEN the sun is growing weaker, And his look is meek and meeker, Comes the frost—the pale betrayer— Light of foot, a stealthy slayer. </div> <div class="stanza"> In the night abroad he stealeth, For each trembling leaf he feeleth; Something softened by its pleading, Kills it not but leaves it bleeding. </div> </div></div> {63} <h2>The Chipmunk</h2> <div class="poetry"> <div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> TO-day the green hill was at strife With me; it robbed my feet of life. The wind that loudly speaks his mind, Said in my presence nothing kind. The sky’s clear face was from me turned, Behind a cloud his great fire burned. </div> <div class="stanza"> An exile in his native cot, Who finds his very name forgot, Was I this afternoon, until At the wood’s edge behind the hill, A chipmunk flashed, and leapt a limb, And took my heart away with him. </div> </div></div> {64} <h2>Give Me the Poorest Weed</h2> <div class="poetry"> <div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> GIVE me the poorest weed To satisfy my spirit’s need. The brownest blade of grass Will know and greet me when I pass. </div> <div class="stanza"> Of their own feeling wrought, They live like simple, vital thought; The mind could not invent A better thing than Nature meant. </div> </div></div> {65} <h2>The Weeks that Walk in Green</h2> <div class="poetry"> <div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> THE weeks that walk in green Came to my willow lane, And wrapt me in their leafy screen Against the sun and rain. </div> <div class="stanza"> Then far and far we went By stream and wood and steep, Until, all love-worn and joy-spent, I yielded me to sleep. </div> <div class="stanza"> And they—they died unseen; Their ghosts are haunting me— The gentle ghosts that walk in green Through vales of memory. </div> </div></div> {66} <h2>Noonday of the Year</h2> <div class="poetry"> <div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> THE streams that chattered in the cold Are sleeping in the sun; The winds of March were overbold Until their race was run. </div> <div class="stanza"> O mad with haste the morning went, But now love-warm and deep, The fields, their first ambition spent, Lie in their noonday sleep. </div> </div></div> {67} <h2>The Wind World</h2> <div class="poetry"> <div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> ALONE within the wind I lie, And reck not how the seasons go; The winter struggling through its snow, The light-winged summer flitting by. </div> <div class="stanza"> I am not of the cloud nor mold, I move between the stars and flowers, I know the tingling touch of hours When all the storms of night unfold. </div> <div class="stanza"> Within the wind world drifting free I hear naught of earth’s murmurings, Naught but the sound of songs and wings Among the tree-tops comes to me. </div> <div class="stanza"> At night earth stars flash out below, And heaven stars shine out above; I look down on the lights of love, And feel the higher love-lights glow. </div> </div></div> {68} <h2>At the Window</h2> <div class="poetry"> <div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> HOW thick about the window of my life Buzz insect-like the tribe of petty frets: Small cares, small thoughts, small trials, and small strife, Small loves and hates, small hopes and small regrets. </div> <div class="stanza"> If ’mid this swarm of smallnesses remain A single undimmed spot, with wondering eye I note before my freckled window-pane The outstretched splendor of the earth and sky. </div> </div></div> {69} <h2>Come Back Again</h2> <div class="poetry"> <div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> CHILD-thoughts, child-thoughts, come back again! Faint, fitful, as you used to be; The dusty chambers of my brain Have need of your fair company, As when my child-head reached the height Of the wild rose-bush at the door, And all of heaven and its delight Bloomed in the flow’rs the old bush bore. </div> <div class="stanza"> Come back, sweet long-departed year, When, sitting in a hollow oak, I heard the sheep bells far and clear, I heard a voice that silent spoke, And felt in both a vague appeal, And both were mingled in my dreams With leaves that viewless breezes feel, And skies clear mirrored in the streams. </div> <div class="stanza"> Child-heart, child-thoughts, come back again! Bring back the tall grass at my cheek, The grief more swift than summer rain, The joy that knew no words to speak. {70} The buttercup’s uplifted gold That strives to reach my hands in vain, The love that never could grow cold— Child-heart, child-thoughts, come back again! </div> </div></div> {71} <h2>A Rainy Morning</h2> <div class="poetry"> <div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> THE low sky, and the warm, wet wind, And the tender light on the eyes; A day like a soul that has never sinned, New dropped from Paradise. </div> <div class="stanza"> And ’tis oh, for a long walk in the rain, By the side of the warm, wet breeze, With the thoughts washed clean of dust and stain As the leaves on the shining trees. </div> </div></div> {72} <h2>June Apples</h2> <div class="poetry"> <div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> GREEN apple branches full of green apples All around me unfurled, Here where the shade and the sunlight dapples A grass-green, apple-green world. </div> <div class="stanza"> Little green children stirred with the heaving Of the warm breast of the air, When your old nurse, the wind, is grieving Comfortlessly you fare. </div> <div class="stanza"> But now an old-time song she is crooning, Nestle your heads again, While I dream on through the golden nooning, Or look for the first red stain </div> <div class="stanza"> On some round cheek that the sunshine dapples, Near me where I lie curled Under green trees athrong with green apples, In a grass-green, apple-green world. </div> </div></div> {73} <h2>Beginning and End</h2> <div class="poetry"> <div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> ONCE it was in my life’s beginning, Roses were tall in their summer beds, Dandelions within my fingers Thrust their confident golden heads; Wading waist-deep ’mid the daisies, Feeling the grasses about me climb— Thus it was in my life’s beginning; What have you done to me, Father Time? </div> <div class="stanza"> So shall it be when life has ended: Roses shall bloom above my head, Dandelions will know I am lying Hidden in grass from foot to head. Hidden in grass and hidden in daisies, Over my breast I shall feel them climb, Thus it will be when life has ended; This will you do to me, Father Time. </div> </div></div> {74} {75} <h2>Not at Home</h2> <div class="poetry"> <div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> THE Weariness of Idleness, She waited all the day In the parlor of her neighbor, The Weariness of Labor— A visit she had long meant to pay. </div> <div class="stanza"> But not until the evening Did her hostess come in sight; Then the Weariness of Labor Explained unto her neighbor That she lived but a brief hour at night. </div> </div></div> {76} <h2>The Wind of Memory</h2> <div class="poetry"> <div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> RED curtains shut the storm from sight, The inner rooms are live with light; The fireside faces all aglow See not the pale ghost in the snow, The pale ghost at the window pressed, With the wind moaning in her breast. </div> <div class="stanza"> She sees the face she hurt with scorn, The other face where joy, new born, Died out at her cheap mockery; The eyes she filled, how bitterly! The head that drooped beneath her jest— The wind is moaning in her breast. </div> <div class="stanza"> Invisible, unfelt, unknown, She lingers trembling. She alone Notes tenderly her vacant place, And sees in it her vanished face; She only—of this happy nest! The wind is moaning in her breast. </div> <div class="stanza"> Star-like the happy windows glow, Framed in with mile on mile of snow; And from their light a thing of death,{77} Of grief and memory vanisheth, Her sin not deep but unredressed, And the wind moaning in her breast. </div> </div></div> {78} <h2>Philippa</h2> <div class="poetry"> <div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> A GENEROUS gentleness that flowed, Stream-like, beside a dusty road; Gave laborers shade, and prisoners sun, And easeful joy to every one; With liquid melodies for such As worked or wearied overmuch, And ministrations cool and sweet For fevered hands and aching feet. </div> <div class="stanza"> So delicately fair she moved— That stream-like girl, of all beloved. Along her path no grief nor care But lulled and lightened unaware. She bore the sky within her breast, And child-like winds her soul caressed, Until her spring of life was dried, And with a smile Philippa died. </div> </div></div> {79} <h2>The Student</h2> <div class="poetry"> <div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> THE student sits within his room, So small and worn and white; His lamp flames out remote and strange Through all the hours of night. </div> <div class="stanza"> And all day long within his face, So small and worn and white, His eyes flame out—those lamp-like eyes, So weirdly, strangely bright. </div> </div></div> {80} <h2>Unspoken</h2> <div class="poetry"> <div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> MY lover comes down the long leafy street Through tenderly falling rain; His footsteps near our portal veer, Go past—then turn again. </div> <div class="stanza"> O can it be he is knocking below, Or here at my door above? So gentle and small it sounds in the hall, So loud in the ear of love. </div> <div class="stanza"> But never a word of love has he said, And never a word crave I, For why should one long for the daylight strong When the dawn is in the sky? </div> <div class="stanza"> O a dewy rose-garden is the house, A garden shut from the sun; The breath of it sweet floats up, as my feet Float down to my waiting one. </div> <div class="stanza"> But if ever a word of love thinks he, It falls from his heart still-born;{81} Who bends to the rose does not haste to close His hand around bud and thorn. </div> <div class="stanza"> The beautiful soul that is in him turns His beautiful face agleam; My own soul flies to feast in his eyes, Where the silent love-words teem. </div> <div class="stanza"> Our talk is of books, and of thoughts and moods, Of the wild flowers in the rain; And he leans his cheek, when we do not speak, On his chair where my hand had lain. </div> <div class="stanza"> Yet never a word of love does he say, And never a word crave I; For the faint green May would wither away At the quick touch of July. </div> <div class="stanza"> And at last—at last we look our last, And the dim day grows more dim; But his eyes still shine in these eyes of mine, And my soul goes forth with him.{82} </div> <div class="stanza"> For though not a word of love does he say, Still never a word crave I; For the words of earth are of little worth When a song drops out of the sky. </div> </div></div> {83} <h2>Under the King</h2> <div class="poetry"> <div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> LOVE with the deep eyes and soft hair, Love with the lily throat and hands, Is done to death, and free as air Am I of all my King’s commands. </div> <div class="stanza"> How shall I celebrate my joy? Or dance with feet that once were fleet In his adorable employ? Or laugh with lips that felt his sweet? </div> <div class="stanza"> How can I at his lifeless face Aim any sharp or bitter jest, Since roguish destiny did place That tender target in my breast? </div> <div class="stanza"> Nay, let me be sincere and strong; I cannot rid me of my chains, I cannot to myself belong, My King is dead—his soul still reigns. </div> </div></div> {84} <h2>The Secret</h2> <div class="poetry"> <div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> SOME chance moment life confesses That her insect nothingnesses Carry honey with their stings, But ’tis only to their kings— Those who know how best to use them, Those who know how to refuse them— That the secret is made free, And souls are loosed from tyranny. </div> </div></div> {85} <h2>Limitation</h2> <div class="poetry"> <div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> BEYOND the far horizon’s farthest bound A farther boundary lies; No spirit wing can reach the utmost round, No spirit eyes. </div> <div class="stanza"> The soul has limitations such as space, Such as eternity; The farthest star to which thou setst thy face Belongs to thee. </div> </div></div> {86} <h2>Three Years Old</h2> <div class="poetry"> <div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> WHAT is it like, I wonder, to roam Down through the tall grass hidden quite? To feel very far away from home When the dear house is out of sight? </div> <div class="stanza"> To want to play with the broken moon In the star garden of the skies? To sleep through twilight eves of June Beneath the sound of lullabies? </div> <div class="stanza"> To hold up hurts for all to see, Sob at imaginary harms, To clasp in welcome a father’s knee, And fit so well to a mother’s arms? </div> <div class="stanza"> To have life bounded by one dull road, A wood and a pond, and to feel no lack, To gaze with pleasure upon a toad, And caress a mud-turtle’s horny back? </div> <div class="stanza"> To follow the robin’s cheerful hop With all the salt small hands can hold,{87} And plead in vain for it to stop— What is it like to be three years old? </div> <div class="stanza"> Ah, once I knew, but ’twas long ago; I try to recall it in vain—in vain! And now I know I shall never know What it is to be a child again. </div> </div></div> {88} <h2>Sometime, I Fear</h2> <div class="poetry"> <div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> SOMETIME, I fear, but God alone knows when, Mine eyes shall gaze on your unseeing eyes, On your unheeding ears shall fall my cries, Your clasp shall cease, your soul go from my ken, Your great heart be a fire burned out.—Ah, then, What shall remain for me beneath the skies Of glad, or good, or beautiful, or wise, That can relume and thrill my life again? </div> <div class="stanza"> This shall remain, a love that cannot fail, A life that joys in your great joy, yet grieves In memory of sweet days fled too soon. Sadness divine! as when November pale Sits broken-hearted ’mong her withered leaves, And feels the wind about her warm as June. </div> </div></div> {89} <h2>Joy</h2> <div class="poetry"> <div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> WHEN airy joy doth hail me I follow on behind, And lest my feet should fail me I follow on the wind; I hear her lightsome laughter Go floating past the door, And swift I follow after As she flies on before. </div> <div class="stanza"> When I am faint and falling, And lose her skyey wings, I hear her liquid calling, And feel the charm she flings On all the earth and o’er me, Then eagerly I rise, And see her skirts before me Go glittering up the skies. </div> <div class="stanza"> The best of life would daunt me Ungirdled by her grace, And foreign demons haunt me Whene’er she hides her face.{90} </div> <div class="stanza"> Up roughest steeps with laughter My airy joy doth soar, As wind-like I come after, And she flies on before. </div> </div></div> {91} <h2>In the Dark</h2> <div class="poetry"> <div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> ALL in the dark he crossed the border! All in the dark, for the lamp of faith Had never been used, and was not in order— So all in the dark he encountered Death. </div> </div></div> {92} <h2>Words</h2> <div class="poetry"> <div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> I LIKE those words that carry in their veins The blood of lions. “Liberty” is one, And “Justice,” and the heart leaps to the sun When the thrilled note of “Courage! Courage!” rains Upon the sorely stricken will. No pains Survive when “Life” and “Light,” twin glories, run From the quick page to some poor soul undone, And beggar by their glow all other gains. </div> <div class="stanza"> How splendidly does “Morning” flood our night! How the word “Ocean” drowns our insect cares, And drives a strong wind through our housed-up grief. While “Honor” lifts us to the mountain height; And “Loyalty” the heaviest burden bears As lightly as a tree a crimson leaf. </div> </div></div> {93} <h2>The Wind of Death</h2> <div class="poetry"> <div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> THE wind of death that softly blows The last warm petal from the rose, The last dry leaf from off the tree, To-night has come to breathe on me. </div> <div class="stanza"> There was a time I learned to hate As weaker mortals learn to love; The passion held me fixed as fate, Burned in my veins early and late— But now a wind falls from above— </div> <div class="stanza"> The wind of death, that silently Enshroudeth friend and enemy. </div> <div class="stanza"> There was a time my soul was thrilled By keen ambition’s whip and spur; My master forced me where he willed, And with his power my life was filled, But now the old-time pulses stir </div> <div class="stanza"> How faintly in the wind of death! That bloweth lightly as a breath.{94} </div> <div class="stanza"> And once, but once, at Love’s dear feet I yielded strength and life and heart; His look turned bitter into sweet, His smile made all the world complete— The wind blows loves like leaves apart— </div> <div class="stanza"> The wind of death, that tenderly Is blowing ’twixt my love and me. </div> <div class="stanza"> O wind of death, that darkly blows Each separate ship of human woes Far out on a mysterious sea, I turn, I turn my face to thee. </div> </div></div> {95} Printed at the Everett Press Boston <div class="figcenter"> <ANTIMG src="images/i_backcover.jpg" width-obs="332" height-obs="500" alt="" title="" /></div> <hr class="full" /> <div style="break-after:column;"></div>

1 of 2

2 of 2

Update Required To play the media you will need to either update your browser to a recent version or update your Flash plugin.