A FRAGMENT
Chance made me look at you,
Chance was no friend!
Sight made me worship you,
Time without end.
Had I been only blind
What had I cared,
And thus, afflicted sore
How much been spared!
AN EVEN PSALM
With silent feet all wet with dew,
Comes evening full of soft repose,
To kiss the valley deep and blue,
With wistful lips, and eyes that close.
Her breath is soft, and full of peace,
Her arms outstretchéd to caress
Fling benedictions without cease,
She seems a spirit borne to bless.
And as the evening to the earth,
Came love to me, a boon most rare;
Hushed every sorrow at its birth,
And turned complaining into prayer.
A BUTTERFLY
A butterfly hovered over a flower,
In a bower,
With the joy of life at his lips for an hour.
With the rose's petals against his wings,
And the rose's perfume that steals and clings
Touching every breath with a wondrous power.
Then the Night came on, and the wind blew cold
O'er the wold.
The butterfly shivered, grown tired and old;
The rose closed her passionate eyes and slept,
While death to her lover in silence crept;
He died of a joy untold.
DISAPPOINTMENT
How little there is that e'er goes right
In this old world of ours.
Anticipation? a vague delight;
Reality? well, the rose with a blight,
The thorn that comes with the flowers.
TO THE SEA
What can I sing to thee
Oh! thrice-beloved sea?
What words can paint thy grace,
The beauty of thy face,
Enrapt with ecstasy?
Fling up thy foamy arms,
Laden with cooling balms,
And touch me where I stand
Here on the yearning land,
With soft embrace that calms.
I gaze into thine eyes,
Where mystic shadow lies,
And lovelights glow and gleam
Within their emerald beam,
And passion lives and dies—
Until my heart grows still
Beneath thy magic will,
And I can hear and see
Naught but thy song and thee,
That seems the world to fill.
Upon thy swelling breast
Restless and yet at rest,
My spirit floats and sings,
While Summer laughs and springs
From off thy snow-white crest.
Behold my hot desire
For thee to quench the fire,
With dewy kiss that slips
From thy divine, wet lips,
Making my joy entire.
Lift up thine endless song,
And echo it along
Until all space rejoice,
In thine enchanted voice,
That sounds so sweet and strong.
Until the rocks and beach
Break forth in answering speech,
And every listening shell
Some praise of thee can tell;
Some joy of thee can teach.
Oh, sea that knows no death!
Oh, life-inspiring breath!
The heart of me would praise
The glory of thy days,
Thine evenings, fathomless.
The soul in me would sing
To that eternal Spring
Beneath thy heaving breast,
Where lurk the depths of rest,
The end of everything.
AFTER ALL?
The gladness and the pain,
The sunshine and the rain,
The laughter and the sigh,
They all must pass and die;
And in the by-and-by,
Who'll care to question why?
YOU
You have my thoughts and know it not.
The livelong day I think of you,
The still, dark night I dream of you,
Each moment's life I live to you,
And yet you know it not.
You have my heart and know it not,
Its every beat is love for you,
Each sigh a drop of blood for you,
Its ceaseless ache regret for you,
And yet you know it not.
You have my soul and know it not,
It makes you God and worships you,
Forgets its claim on Heaven for you,
Forsakes its hope of life for you,
And yet—you know it not.
REMEMBER
Remember, sweet! some evening when you sit
With idle hands, and book but half read through;
When those dear eyes of yours find incomplete
The landscape deep in shade and wet with dew;
When that clear mind of yours goes wandering out
To seek contentment, ay, and finds no rest;
When those grave thoughts of yours are filled with doubt,
And vague mistrust of all the world deems best;
Remember!—for one hour we conquered fate;
Filled in the blanks and set the puzzle right;
We were complete, a glorious, living whole,
A perfect cadence of supreme delight—
I think eternity was ours that night.
AN ECHO
In passion's hour I met you,
And now that from my soul I'm old,
Whene'er I watch the pale young moon,
Or misty glow of sunset gold,
Some echo of the past comes back,
Like wild, sweet song o'er lonely track
Lest I should e'er forget you.
FLOWER LOVE
"Where is she?" sighed the rose-trees,
The honeysuckle creepers,
The pansies, and the lilies,
And the little hidden flowers.
"We are lonely here without her,
In the sunlight, in the twilight,
In the daytime, in the night-time,
Through the solitary hours."
"I know not," said the young wind,
"Yet will I surely seek her,
And whisper low your message
Oh faithful-hearted few.
For men may kiss in passing,
And the world forget its passion,
But the soil, remembers ever,
And the love of flowers is true."
THE FOND LOVER
I am but little in your sight,
A passing thought, a fleeting light
That gone, forgotten lies.
The humble pastime, that you chose
To honour, as you might a rose,
O'er which you cast your eyes.
Were I some simple, lifeless thing,
A book you read, an oft-worn ring,
A favourite flower you wear,
I might be close to you and know
The rapture and the living glow
Of lips, and breast, and hair.
But as it is, the earth you press,
The clinging texture of your dress,
The jewel on your hand
Know more of Heaven and joys therein
Than I, whose soul has never been
Where it could understand.
ROSES FALL
One by one the roses' petals fall to earth;
Though God's sun is still above them,
And the ardent breezes love them
They must die.
Ere their greatest joy is born,
Lo! they wither and are gone;
Like a rose my hope must perish
In a sigh.
A FRAGMENT
If you were just one street away,
One only!
I know that in my heart I'd say
I'm lonely.
But with the world between us two
A-lying,
I hear my soul cry out, "For you
I'm dying!"
DISSATISFACTION
Our love is near akin unto regret;
We love, and are beloved again, and yet
There oft is something that we lack.
So Life is very near akin to Death,
We live and laugh awhile, yet with each breath
Something is passing, that will ne'er come back.
ONE EVENING
The damp, sweet smell of the earth after rain,
A golden rift in the sky,
The deepening twilight, the purple plain,
And you and I.
The strange, still hush of the slumbering world,
The mist in the wood close by,
A deer that nibbles a leaf dew-pearled,
And you and I.
The falling rain has left tremulous lakes
Where the shattered branches lie;
The storm has bowed the tree till it breaks,
And you and I!
Yet the green earth smiles through the tears she wept;
With one long, rapturous sigh
The Noon in the arms of Night has crept,
And you and I?
TO ——
I thought that I might see you, sweet,
That after all this weary year
By some good fortune we might meet,
And kiss each other here.
I told my heart to bide awhile,
And not to faint with vain regret;
I even forced my lips to smile,
My conscience to forget.
I killed depression as it rose,
And built new castles on the sand;
This was the place my fancy chose
That I should hold your hand.
And I have held your hand, my dear,
A second, daring not to press
Your finger-tips, in mortal fear
To meet your eyes; and yet I bless
That little moment none the less.
MY SOUL, THE DEATHLESS
Hush! my soul is singing;
Through the still night ringing
Sounds its voice.
Till the dark in wonder
Seemeth cleft asunder,
And the stars rejoice.
E'en the air is breathless,
For my soul, the deathless,
Sings of thee.
Beats its wings of fire,
In the vast desire
For eternity.
Lifts its eyes of splendour
Full of deep surrender
For thy sake.
Bids me let it press thee
In its arms, and bless thee
Till thy love awake.
WHAT AM I?
What am I to presume to say
Were you good or bad,
Was I wrong or right?
After all life's only a day
And perhaps—a night.
What am I to set up for Judge?
Shall I wound myself
With a vain regret?
Our fleeting pleasure if Time begrudge
Can he not forget?
The thrill of it all is past we know,
Say we both were right,
And we both were wrong,
There's little enough joy here below,
And love's none too long.
WHAT A PITY!
What a pity that all our wishes,
And most of our prayers are vain;
When we strive to recall a pleasure,
Or crave to forget a pain.
When the motives we deemed sufficient,
Seem paltry, and mean, and weak;
And the goal we'd have lost our soul for,
Is that which we least would seek.
And the pride of those vast ambitions,
That rendered our hopes so great
Has become but the coal-black cinders,
Consumed in the fire of fate.
What a pity! that blind with folly,
We fancied all incomplete
Every flower of the true contentment,
That grew by our careless feet;
Nor did pause in our path, to gather
The fruits of a gracious Spring;
Or to seek in our hearts the anthem
We called on the world to sing.
Ah, well! maybe God will remember,
As payment of many debts,
The penance of sad non-attainments,
The sackcloth of vain regrets.
And perhaps the Recording Angel
May wipe out the faults of years
With the hem of His shining garment,
Grown damp with a sinner's tears.
SONG
Good-morning, sweet! a thousand little birds
Their requiem to you sing;
And tender flowers, with soft, perfuming words
Their greetings bring.
Good-morning, sweet! this faithful heart of mine
Offers devotion vast as Heaven above,
Beneath thy window, worships at thy shrine;
Good-morning, love.
Good-morning, sweet! the glory of the day
Is naught compared to thee;
Come forth and smile, with rapture bright and gay,
That I may see.
Good-morning, sweet! look up that I may live,
Kiss me that I may taste of Heaven here,
The joys of Paradise are thine to give,
Good-morning, dear!
TIREDNESS
It is weary, weary this waiting,
For that which can never be.
It is dreary, dreary this mating,
With tears and despondency.
And methinks if beneath the grasses,
There was somewhere, both still and deep,
I would close my eyes to the morning,
And thankfully fall asleep.
ON THE LAGOON
A gondola, the still lagoon;
A Summer's night, an August moon;
The splash of oars, a distant song,
A little sigh, and—was it wrong?
A kiss, both passionate and long.