Part 9

But in the depth thou hast another home, For hearts less daring, or more frail. Thou dwellest also in the shadowy vale; And pilgrim-souls that roam With weary feet o'er hill and dale, Bearing the burden and the heat Of toilful days, Turn from the dusty ways To find thee in thy green and still retreat. Here is no vision wide outspread Before the lonely and exalted seat Of all-embracing knowledge. Here, instead, A little cottage, and a garden-nook, With outlooks brief and sweet Across the meadows, and along the brook,-- A little stream that nothing knows Of the great sea to which it gladly flows,-- A little field that bears a little wheat To make a portion of earth's daily bread. The vast cloud-armies overhead Are marshalled, and the wild wind blows Its trumpet, but thou canst not tell Whence comes the wind nor where it goes; Nor dost thou greatly care, since all is well. Thy daily task is done, And now the wages of repose are won. Here friendship lights the fire, and every heart, Sure of itself and sure of all the rest, Dares to be true, and gladly takes its part In open converse, bringing forth its best: And here is music, melting every chain Of lassitude and pain: And here, at last, is sleep with silent gifts,-- Kind sleep, the tender nurse who lifts The soul grown weary of the waking world, And lays it, with its thoughts all furled, Its fears forgotten, and its passions still, On the deep bosom of the Eternal Will.

THREE PRAYERS FOR SLEEP AND WAKING

I

BEDTIME

Ere thou sleepest gently lay Every troubled thought away: Put off worry and distress As thou puttest off thy dress: Drop thy burden and thy care In the quiet arms of prayer.

_Lord, Thou knowest how I live, All I've done amiss forgive: All of good I've tried to do, Strengthen, bless, and carry through, All I love in safety keep, While in Thee I fall asleep._

II

NIGHT WATCH

If slumber should forsake Thy pillow in the dark, Fret not thyself to mark How long thou liest awake. There is a better way; Let go the strife and strain, Thine eyes will close again, If thou wilt only pray.

_Lord, Thy peaceful gift restore, Give my body sleep once more: While I wait my soul will rest Like a child upon Thy breast._

III

NEW DAY

Ere thou risest from thy bed, Speak to God Whose wings were spread O'er thee in the helpless night: Lo, He wakes thee now with light! Lift thy burden and thy care In the mighty arms of prayer.

_Lord, the newness of this day Calls me to an untried way: Let me gladly take the road, Give me strength to bear my load, Thou my guide and helper be-- I will travel through with Thee._

The Mission Inn, California, Easter, 1913.

PORTRAIT AND REALITY

If on the closed curtain of my sight My fancy paints thy portrait far away, I see thee still the same, by night or day; Crossing the crowded street, or moving bright 'Mid festal throngs, or reading by the light Of shaded lamp some friendly poet's lay, Or shepherding the children at their play,-- The same sweet self, and my unchanged delight.

But when I see thee near, I recognize In every dear familiar way some strange Perfection, and behold in April guise The magic of thy beauty that doth range Through many moods with infinite surprise,-- Never the same, and sweeter with each change.

THE WIND OF SORROW

The fire of love was burning, yet so low That in the peaceful dark it made no rays, And in the light of perfect-placid days The ashes hid the smouldering embers' glow. Vainly, for love's delight, we sought to throw New pleasures on the pyre to make it blaze: In life's calm air and tranquil-prosperous ways We missed the radiant heat of long ago.

Then in the night, a night of sad alarms, Bitter with pain and black with fog of fears That drove us trembling to each other's arms, Across the gulf of darkness and salt tears Into life's calm the wind of sorrow came, And fanned the fire of love to clearest name.

HIDE AND SEEK

I

All the trees are sleeping, all the winds are still, All the fleecy flocks of cloud, gone beyond the hill; Through the noon-day silence, down the woods of June, Hark, a little hunter's voice, running with a tune. "Hide and seek! When I speak, You must answer me: Call again, Merry men, Coo-ee, coo-ee, coo-ee!"

Now I hear his footsteps rustling in the grass: Hidden in my leafy nook, shall I let him pass? Just a low, soft whistle,--quick the hunter turns, Leaps upon me laughing loud, rolls me in the ferns. "Hold him fast, Caught at last! Now you're it, you see. Hide your eye, Till I cry, Coo-ee, coo-ee, coo-ee!"

II

Long ago he left me, long and long ago; Now I wander thro' the world, seeking high and low. Hidden safe and happy, in some pleasant place,-- If I could but hear his voice, soon I'd see his face! Far away, Many a day, Where can Barney be? Answer, dear, Don't you hear? Coo-ee, coo-ee, coo-ee!

Birds that every spring-time sung him full of joy, Flowers he loved to pick for me, mind me of my boy. Somewhere he is waiting till my steps come nigh; Love may hide itself awhile, but love can never die. Heart, be glad, The little lad Will call again to thee: "Father dear, Heaven is here, Coo-ee, coo-ee, coo-ee!"

1898.

AUTUMN IN THE GARDEN

When the frosty kiss of Autumn in the dark Makes its mark On the flowers, and the misty morning grieves Over fallen leaves; Then my olden garden, where the golden soil Through the toil Of a hundred years is mellow, rich, and deep, Whispers in its sleep.

'Mid the crumpled beds of marigold and phlox, Where the box Borders with its glossy green the ancient walks, There's a voice that talks Of the human hopes that bloomed and withered here Year by year,-- And the dreams that brightened all the labouring hours. Fading as the flowers.

Yet the whispered story does not deepen grief; But relief For the loneliness of sorrow seems to flow From the Long-Ago, When I think of other lives that learned, like mine, To resign, And remember that the sadness of the fall Comes alike to all.

What regrets, what longings for the lost were theirs I And what prayers For the silent strength that nerves us to endure Things we cannot cure! Pacing up and down the garden where they paced, I have traced All their well-worn paths of patience, till I find Comfort in my mind.

Faint and far away their ancient griefs appear: Yet how near Is the tender voice, the careworn, kindly face, Of the human race! Let us walk together in the garden, dearest heart,-- Not apart! They who know the sorrows other lives have known Never walk alone.

October, 1903.

THE MESSAGE

Waking from tender sleep, My neighbour's little child Put out his baby hand to me, Looked in my face, and smiled.

It seems as if he came Home from a happy land, To bring a message to my heart And make me understand.

Somewhere, among bright dreams, A child that once was mine Has whispered wordless love to him, And given him a sign.

Comfort of kindly speech, And counsel of the wise, Have helped me less than what I read In those deep-smiling eyes.

Sleep sweetly, little friend, And dream again of heaven: With double love I kiss your hand,-- Your message has been given.

November, 1903.

DULCIS MEMORIA

Long, long ago I heard a little song, (Ah, was it long ago, or yesterday?) So lowly, slowly wound the tune along, That far into my heart it found the way: A melody consoling and endearing; And now, in silent hours, I'm often hearing The small, sweet song that does not die away.

Long, long ago I saw a little flower-- (Ah, was it long ago, or yesterday?) So fair of face and fragrant for an hour, That something dear to me it seemed to say,-- A wordless joy that blossomed into being; And now, in winter days, I'm often seeing The friendly flower that does not fade away.

Long, long ago we had a little child,-- (Ah, was it long ago, or yesterday?) Into his mother's eyes and mine he smiled Unconscious love; warm in our arms he lay. An angel called! Dear heart, we could not hold him; Yet secretly your arms and mine infold him-- Our little child who does not go away.

Long, long ago? Ah, memory, make it clear-- (It was not long ago, but yesterday.) So little and so helpless and so dear-- Let not the song be lost, the flower decay! His voice, his waking eyes, his gentle sleeping: The smallest things are safest in thy keeping,-- Sweet memory, keep our child with us alway.

November, 1903.

THE WINDOW

All night long, by a distant bell The passing hours were notched On the dark, while her breathing rose and fell; And the spark of life I watched In her face was glowing, or fading,--who could tell?-- And the open window of the room, With a flare of yellow light, Was peering out into the gloom, Like an eye that searched the night.

_Oh, what do you see in the dark, little window, and why do you peer? "I see that the garden is crowded with creeping forms of fear: Little white ghosts in the locust-tree, wave in the night-wind's breath, And low in the leafy laurels the lurking shadow of death."_

Sweet, clear notes of a waking bird Told of the passing away Of the dark,--and my darling may have heard; For she smiled in her sleep, while the ray Of the rising dawn spoke joy without a word, Till the splendour born in the east outburned The yellow lamplight, pale and thin, And the open window slowly turned To the eye of the morning, looking in.

_Oh, what do you see in the room, little window, that makes you so bright? "I see that a child is asleep on her pillow, soft and white: With the rose of life on her lips, the pulse of life in her breast, And the arms of God around her, she quietly takes her rest."_

Neuilly, June, 1909.

CHRISTMAS TEARS

The day returns by which we date our years: Day of the joy of giving,--that means love; Day of the joy of living,--that means hope; Day of the Royal Child,--and day that brings To older hearts the gift of Christmas tears!

Look, how the candles twinkle through the tree, The children shout when baby claps his hands, The room is full of laughter and of song! Your lips are smiling, dearest,--tell me why Your eyes are brimming full of Christmas tears?

Was it a silent voice that joined the song? A vanished face that glimmered once again Among the happy circle round the tree? Was it an unseen hand that touched your cheek And brought the secret gift of Christmas tears?

Not dark and angry like the winter storm Of selfish grief,--but full of starry gleams, And soft and still that others may not weep,-- Dews of remembered happiness descend To bless us with the gift of Christmas tears.

Ah, lose them not, dear heart,--life has no pearls More pure than memories of joy love-shared. See, while we count them one by one with prayer, The Heavenly hope that lights the Christmas tree Has made a rainbow in our Christmas tears!

1912.

DOROTHEA

1888-1912

A deeper crimson in the rose, A deeper blue in sky and sea, And ever, as the summer goes, A deeper loss in losing thee!

A deeper music in the strain Of hermit-thrush from lonely tree; And deeper grows the sense of gain My life has found in having thee.

A deeper love, a deeper rest, A deeper joy in all I see; And ever deeper in my breast A silver song that comes from thee!

Seal Harbour, August 1, 1912.

EPIGRAMS, GREETINGS, AND INSCRIPTIONS

FOR KATRINA'S SUN-DIAL

IN HER GARDEN OF YADDO

Hours fly, Flowers die New days, New ways, Pass by. Love stays.

* * *

Time is Too Slow for those who Wait, Too Swift for those who Fear, Too Long for those who Grieve, Too Short for those who Rejoice; But for those who Love, Time is not.

FOR KATRINA'S WINDOW

IN HER TOWER OF YADDO

This is the window's message, In silence, to the Queen: "Thou hast a double kingdom And I am set between: Look out and see the glory, On hill and plain and sky: Look in and see the light of love That nevermore shall die!"

_L'ENVOI_

_Window in the Queen's high tower, This shall be thy magic power! Shut the darkness and the doubt, Shut the storm and conflict, out; Wind and hail and snow and rain Dash against thee all in vain. Let in nothing from the night,-- Let in every ray of light!_

FOR THE FRIENDS AT HURSTMONT

THE HOUSE

The cornerstone in Truth is laid, The guardian walls of Honour made, The roof of Faith is built above, The fire upon the hearth is Love: Though rains descend and loud winds call, This happy house shall never fall.

THE HEARTH

When the logs are burning free, Then the fire is full of glee: When each heart gives out its best, Then the talk is full of zest: Light your fire and never fear, Life was made for love and cheer.

THE DOOR

The lintel low enough to keep out pomp and pride: The threshold high enough to turn deceit aside: The fastening strong enough from robbers to defend: This door will open at a touch to welcome every friend.

THE DIAL

Time can never take What Time did not give; When my shadows have all passed, You shall live.

THE SUN-DIAL AT MORVEN

FOR BAYARD AND HELEN STOCKTON

Two hundred years of blessing I record For Morven's house, protected by the Lord: And still I stand among old-fashioned flowers To mark for Morven many sunlit hours.

THE SUN-DIAL AT WELLS COLLEGE

FOR THE CLASS OF 1904

The shadow by my finger cast Divides the future from the past: Before it, sleeps the unborn hour, In darkness, and beyond thy power: Behind its unreturning line, The vanished hour, no longer thine: One hour alone is in thy hands,-- The NOW on which the shadow stands.

March, 1904.

TO MARK TWAIN

I

AT A BIRTHDAY FEAST

With memories old and wishes new We crown our cups again, And here's to you, and here's to you With love that ne'er shall wane! And may you keep, at sixty-seven, The joy of earth, the hope of heaven, And fame well-earned, and friendship true, And peace that comforts every pain, And faith that fights the battle through, And all your heart's unbounded wealth, And all your wit, and all your health,-- Yes, here's a hearty health to you, And here's to you, and here's to you, Long life to you, Mark Twain.

November 30, 1902.

II

AT THE MEMORIAL MEETING

We knew you well, dear Yorick of the West, The very soul of large and friendly jest! You loved and mocked the broad grotesque of things In this new world where all the folk are kings.

Your breezy humour cleared the air, with sport Of shams that haunt the democratic court; For even where the sovereign people rule, A human monarch needs a royal fool.

Your native drawl lent flavour to your wit; Your arrows lingered but they always hit; Homeric mirth around the circle ran, But left no wound upon the heart of man.

We knew you kind in trouble, brave in pain; We saw your honour kept without a stain; We read this lesson of our Yorick's years,-- True wisdom comes with laughter and with tears.

November 30, 1910.

STARS AND THE SOUL

(TO CHARLES A. YOUNG, ASTRONOMER)

"Two things," the wise man said, "fill me with awe: The starry heavens and the moral law." Nay, add another wonder to thy roll,-- The living marvel of the human soul!

Born in the dust and cradled in the dark, It feels the fire of an immortal spark, And learns to read, with patient, searching eyes, The splendid secret of the unconscious skies.

For God thought Light before He spoke the word; The darkness understood not, though it heard: But man looks up to where the planets swim, And thinks God's thoughts of glory after Him.

What knows the star that guides the sailor's way, Or lights the lover's bower with liquid ray, Of toil and passion, danger and distress, Brave hope, true love, and utter faithfulness?

But human hearts that suffer good and ill, And hold to virtue with a loyal will, Adorn the law that rules our mortal strife With star-surpassing victories of life.

So take our thanks, dear reader of the skies, Devout astronomer, most humbly wise, For lessons brighter than the stars can give, And inward light that helps us all to live.

TO JULIA MARLOWE

(READING KEATS' ODE ON A GRECIAN URN)

Long had I loved this "Attic shape," the brede Of marble maidens round this urn divine: But when your golden voice began to read, The empty urn was filled with Chian wine.

TO JOSEPH JEFFERSON

_May 4th_, 1898.--_To-day, fishing down the Swiftwater, I found Joseph Jefferson on a big rock in the middle of the brook, casting the fly for trout. He said he had fished this very stream three-and-forty years ago; and near by, in the Paradise Valley, he wrote his famous play._--Leaf from my Diary.

We met on Nature's stage, And May had set the scene, With bishop-caps standing in delicate ranks, And violets blossoming over the banks, While the brook ran full between.

The waters rang your call, With frolicsome waves a-twinkle,-- They knew you as boy, and they knew you as man, And every wave, as it merrily ran, Cried, "Enter Rip van Winkle!"

THE MOCKING-BIRD

In mirth he mocks the other birds at noon, Catching the lilt of every easy tune; But when the day departs he sings of love,-- His own wild song beneath the listening moon.

THE EMPTY QUATRAIN

A flawless cup: how delicate and fine The flowing curve of every jewelled line! Look, turn it up or down, 'tis perfect still,-- But holds no drop of life's heart-warming wine.

PAN LEARNS MUSIC

FOR A SCULPTURE BY SARA GREENE

Limber-limbed, lazy god, stretched on the rock, Where is sweet Echo, and where is your flock? What are you making here? "Listen," said Pan,-- "Out of a river-reed music for man!"

THE SHEPHERD OF NYMPHS

The nymphs a shepherd took To guard their snowy sheep; He led them down along the brook, And guided them with pipe and crook, Until he fell asleep.

But when the piping stayed, Across the flowery mead The milk-white nymphs ran out afraid: O Thyrsis, wake! Your flock has strayed,-- The nymphs a shepherd need.

ECHOES FROM THE GREEK ANTHOLOGY

I

STARLIGHT

With two bright eyes, my star, my love, Thou lookest on the stars above: Ah, would that I the heaven might be With a million eyes to look on thee.

_Plato._

II

ROSELEAF

A little while the rose, And after that the thorn; An hour of dewy morn, And then the glamour goes. Ah, love in beauty born, A little while the rose!

_Unknown._

III

PHOSPHOR--HESPER

O morning star, farewell! My love I now must leave; The hours of day I slowly tell, And turn to her with the twilight bell,-- O welcome, star of eve!

_Meleager._

IV

SEASONS

Sweet in summer, cups of snow, Cooling thirsty lips aglow; Sweet to sailors winter-bound, Spring arrives with garlands crowned; Sweeter yet the hour that covers With one cloak a pair of lovers, Living lost in golden weather, While they talk of love together.

_Asclepiades._

V

THE VINE AND THE GOAT

Although you eat me to the root, I yet shall bear enough of fruit For wine to sprinkle your dim eyes, When you are made a sacrifice.

_Euenus._

VI

THE PROFESSOR

Seven pupils, in the class Of Professor Callias, Listen silent while he drawls,-- Three are benches, four are walls.

_Unknown._

ONE WORLD

_"The worlds in which we live are two: The world 'I am' and the world 'I do,'"_

The worlds in which we live at heart are one, The world "I am," the fruit of "I have done"; And underneath these worlds of flower and fruit, The world "I love,"--the only living root.

JOY AND DUTY

"Joy is a Duty,"--so with golden lore The Hebrew rabbis taught in days of yore, And happy human hearts heard in their speech Almost the highest wisdom man can reach.

But one bright peak still rises far above, And there the Master stands whose name is Love, Saying to those whom weary tasks employ: "Life is divine when Duty is a Joy."

THE PRISON AND THE ANGEL

Self is the only prison that can ever bind the soul; Love is the only angel who can bid the gates unroll; And when he comes to call thee, arise and follow fast; His way may lie through darkness, but it leads to light at last.

THE WAY

Who seeks for heaven alone to save his soul, May keep the path, but will not reach the goal; While he who walks in love may wander far, But God will bring him where the Blessed are.

LOVE AND LIGHT

There are many kinds of love, as many kinds of light, And every kind of love makes a glory in the night. There is love that stirs the heart, and love that gives it rest, But the love that leads life upward is the noblest and the best.

_FACTA NON VERBA_

_Deeds not Words_: I say so too! And yet I find it somehow true, A word may help a man in need, To nobler act and braver deed.

FOUR THINGS

Four things a man must learn to do If he would make his record true: To think without confusion clearly; To love his fellow-men sincerely; To act from honest motives purely; To trust in God and Heaven securely.

THE GREAT RIVER

_"In la sua volontade è nostra pace."_

O mighty river! strong, eternal Will, Wherein the streams of human good and ill Are onward swept, conflicting, to the sea! The world is safe because it floats in Thee.

INSCRIPTION FOR A TOMB IN ENGLAND

Read here, O friend unknown, Our grief, of her bereft; Yet think not tears alone Within our hearts are left. The gifts she came to give, Her heavenly love and cheer, Have made us glad to live And die without a fear.

1912.

THE TALISMAN

What is Fortune, what is Fame? Futile gold and phantom name,-- Riches buried in a cave, Glory written on a grave.

What is Friendship? Something deep That the heart can spend and keep: Wealth that greatens while we give, Praise that heartens us to live.

Come, my friend, and let us prove Life's true talisman is love! By this charm we shall elude Poverty and solitude.

January 21, 1914.

THORN AND ROSE

Far richer than a thornless rose Whose branch with beauty never glows, Is that which every June adorns With perfect bloom among its thorns.

Merely to live without a pain Is little gladness, little gain, Ah, welcome joy tho' mixt with grief,-- The thorn-set flower that crowns the leaf.

June 20, 1914.

"THE SIGNS"

_Dedicated to the Zodiac Club_