Edwardian and Georgian Canadian Poets
22nd Jan 2014Posted in: Edwardian and Georgian Canadian Poets
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Poems that Appeal
[7 blank pages]
[illustration]
Very sincerely yours
Caroline E. Wilkinson
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POEMS
THAT
APPEAL
by
CAROLINE ELEANOR WILKINSON
NIAGARA FALLS, ONTARIO
F. H. LESLIE, LIMITED
PRINTERS
1928
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Dedicated
to
The Allied Soldier
Who Fought and Fell
in
The Great War
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[blank page]
BY COURTESY OF
THE GUARDIAN MAGAZINE
THE DOTTED LINE MAGAZINE
THE BUFFALO SUNDAY EXPRESS
THE GLOBE
THE MAIL & EMPIRE
THE LISBON ENTERPRISE
THE EVENING TELEGRAM
THE CANADIAN FARMER
THE NIAGARA FALLS REVIEW
THE PRESBYTERIAN PUBLICATIONS [unnumbered page] [blank page]
CONTENTS
DREAMS OF THE DAWN
I dream of a great and blessed dawn, When wars forever shall be o’er,— The precious blood of our brave youth, To flow in crimson stream no more. I dream of a clear and radiant dawn, When justice shall her mantle fling,— A banner white o’er all the earth, While freedom’s happy song we sing. I dream of a pure and holy dawn, When hearts of men shall ever cease, To think of deeds of cruelty, And walk in paths of perfect peace. I dream of Mercy’s coming dawn,— Good will shall reign o’er all the earth, As promised in the glory song Of peace, at Jesu’ mystic birth. [page 17]
MEN OF THE MAPLELAND
As boys they played beneath the shade Of large-leafed, sturdy maple tree, As sturdy there, when called to play Their part in the world’s great tragedy. Oh, loyal youth of Canada! They rallied from the countryside, From deepest dale, the mountain trail— In hordes they came from far and wide. The trades, professions, busy marts, It seemed to be the same to them, They left them all at their country’s call, Our fearless and our faithful men. O let us then through coming days, Give recompense and meed of praise. Far from their homes and peaceful joys, ‘Mid war’s alarms, our gallant boys Endured destructive shot and shell, And deadly fumes that breathed of hell. For years they fought, knew sorrow, toil (And some now rest ‘neath foreign soil), They struggled on and drank the cup Of sacrifice, a bitter sup, And, Spartan-like, made stubborn stand For honor, home and Mapleland. [page 18]
VOICE OF NIAGARA
Thou art the queen of all rivers, rejoicing in song, As you toss the white spray, driving mist to the shore; And your voice echoes jubilant, resonant, strong— O such music ne’er greeted a mortal before. And sublime your melodious, thundering boom,— A far reaching refrain, so triumphant and long, ‘Tis the meeting of waters that dash to their doom, And the sweet intermezzo that creeps in your song. But the centuries come and the centuries go, And the white man now treads where the Indian raced; Loud your waters still sing, and as restlessly flow, As when near the great cataracts, wigwams were placed. You are tragic in splendor, primordially grand, And your mystical waves glow with opaline sheen, With perpetual song, swelling out o’er the land, You enchant us forever, magnificent Queen. [page 19]
SYMPATHY
Give me a sympathetic heart, That I may feel a little part Of other people’s trials and woes; A heart that has a kindly glow, So love from it will gently flow, A friendly sympathy to show. A heart not selfish, hard or cruel, As might be found in life’s rough school, But kind—one that will understand, And give the out-stretched helping hand, Bring cheer to one whose need is great, And sympathy ere it’s too late. [page 20]
NIAGARA FALLS
Stupendous in their majesty, the maddened waters leap, Then raging like a demon who disdains the thought of sleep, In wild abandon o’er the brink they toss and foam and curl— In the great abyss they surge and sink, then down the river whirl. A silver cloud of spray, ethereal as bridal veil, Rolls gaily toward the shore, in misty, shimm’ring masses pale, When in the sun’s clear light, revealed, are bright prismatic rays, That scintillate in rainbow hues, enchanting all who gaze. But when the laggard sun, has not the surging waters kissed, Then moody old Niagara sulks, in pall of dull grey mist, While meeting waters dash and fight, then boiling pass along, With a deep toned voice resounding in an everlasting song. O the tumult and the grandeur of the water as it rolls— We marvel as we look, with exaltation in our souls; A seething, rushing torrent flows, whose troubled heaving breast, Through ages has not known repose, tranquility or rest. [page 21]
THE LAND THAT LOVES FAIR PLAY
O sing of the land that loves fair play, Strives to all nations to be true, All creeds and kinds may safely stay, Where waves the flag “red, white and blue.” All hail the land that loves fair play, Where golden rule is always taught, And justice, mercy, still hold sway; To free men they have ever fought. O praise the land that loves fair play, That sturdy little sea-girt isle, Where men and women come what may, Trust Providence with cheerful smile. Acclaim the land that loves fair play, Oppressed to her for safely flee— To cherish all is England’s way, For the mother of the world is she. [page 22]
DAWN, SWEET DAWN!
O the day seemeth sweet when the dawn first appears, In its opaline colors, so soft yet so bright, As its radiance conquers the forces of gloom, And quickly dispels the deep shadows of night. In the roseate light over mountain and vale, There’s a beauty that gives a sweet promise of peace, Of a day well begun, so at setting of sun, We may rest in a place where the tumult shall cease. And more sweet the bright dawn of the soul’s blessed morn; When the dark night is o’er, ‘twill be joyous and free, And the light over there, will be wondrously fair, In that dawn—the Eternal—for you and for me. [page 23]
THE UNFORGOTTEN
(Written for the unveiling of the Cenotaph in memory of our beloved dead, and read on that occasion.)
Unforgotten, unforgotten are the stalwart and the brave, Men who died for home and country, grand old Union Jack to save. Though the war-drum’s beat is over, and the turmoil seems a dream, Still the faces of our loved ones, ever in our mem’ry gleam. Trained not in their youth to warfare, yet they fought right valiantly, Staunch at Vimy and in Flanders, routed enemies would flee; Through the din of battles dauntless, for they knew their cause was right, Though barrage was shrieking round them, on they struggled day and night. ‘Midst the gas and big guns roaring, quaking earth and bursting shell, So heroic was their conduct, tongue can never fully tell; Ringing through the coming ages, both in history and song, Will be deeds of worth and valor in that fray so fierce and long. [page 24] In the air they were as fearless as the eagle in its flight, Scouting in the zone of danger, flying through the clouds of night, Proving to the Mother Country, Canada had offspring strong Who were ready for their duty “over there” to right the wrong. Now they rest in foreign regions, far away from native land, Still in spirit they are with us, a reverend and noble band; Unforgotten will their names be, treasured in our hearts they’ll dwell, Sacrificial price of vict’ry, as they in the combat fell. Greater than our expectations was the prowess of our men, Naught have we to give in tribute save a Cenotaph to them, So we place it on Niagara’s wonderful and far-famed shore, In the park where singing waters swell in deep, triumphant roar. There the flowers thrive and blossom, showered with the river’s spray, Near the falling-rushing torrent, swiftly flowing there always; Where the silver birch and maple in the Spring are to be seen, (Symbol of the resurrection) with new buds of living green. [page 25]
DESOLATION
Above a bench of sea-washed sands,
A cliff, where ruined mansion stands,
Inhabited by hooting owl,
And skulking beasts that nightly prowl,
A pallid moon, in mackerel sky,
Looks down with cold, accusing eye,
Where fields of crosses faintly glow
Like spectres in the vale below.
* * * * * *
Where war has reaped his harvest, there
Is desolation everywhere. [page 26]
SING ME A SONG
Sing me a song of gladness, let me feel Its harmony and sweetness through me steal, As vibrant as the sound of chiming bell, That rings out gaily with enchanting spell. Sing me a song of hope, that it may turn Discouragement to hopefulness. To learn To trust in God and ever watch and pray, By Him be guided through the night and day— Remembering ‘tis darkest ere the light Of dawn dispels the sombre clouds of night. Oh, sing to me a song of love supreme, For love makes life a long delightful dream Of beauty and of great soul-stirring bliss, And nought on earth can be compared to this, Without its solace this old world would be, As dreary as a windswept, sunless sea. Then sing to me a song of peace so clear, That it may cleanse my soul of haunting fear, Bring comfort and a sense of calm repose— A fountain of content that ever flows. [page 27]
THE GARDEN OF THE DEAD
Speak softly in the garden, quiet garden of the dead,
Where Autumn leaves are drifting, tinted bronze and ruby red;
So calm each one is sleeping, peace sweet peace pervades the air,
Yet near is life’s great turmoil, with its joy and constant care;
The red, red leaves are falling, it has come to be their time,
But here’s a Cenotaph to heroes, men who had not reached their prime.
They gave their life for us,—the greatest treasure they could give;
Afar on battlefield they died, that we in peace might live.
* * * * * * * * * * *
There stands an Angel white in marble, her great wings outspread,
A precious symbol in the garden, quiet garden of the dead.
Step softly in the garden, tranquil garden of the dead,
Where scarce a sound is heard save twittering birds o’erhead.
We almost feel their souls are near, they see us as we pass [page 28]
So slowly o’er their resting place, brown now with dying grass.
The rich man here is just the same, as any son of toil,
They rest together at the last, beneath the earth’s grey soil.
The old, the youth, the babe for whom so many tears were shed,
Sleep here within the garden, tranquil garden of the dead.
Pray softly in the garden, blessed garden of the dead,
Let mercy’s kindly beams of light, on hearts of ours be shed,
May kindness to the living flow, before they pass away,
For when they’re gone it is too late a gracious word to say,
And let us think of higher things, O may we meditate,
While walking in the garden, glimpse our fragile mortal state,
For here are ones whose lives are as a story that is told,
While we have still some pages fair, that we may yet unfold.
* * * * * * * * * * *
Where leaves are drifting, drifting, gay in colors gold and red,
O pray within the garden, blessed garden of the dead. [page 29]
BE A GYPSY FOR TODAY
Autumn’s banners now are floating, Brilliant, colorful and gay, And they seem to beckon, saying “Be a gypsy for today.” Hear the dying Summer sighing, Come, O come, while yet you may, Follow woodland path and streamlet, Be a gypsy for today. Gaze on a painted hill and valley, Ere grim Winter holds his sway, Autumn’s voice is calling, calling, “Be a gypsy for today.” Ruby-tinted sumac, maples, In their flaunting beauty say, “Come, where joy of life awaits you, Be a gypsy for today.” [page 30]
I’M A MERRY, MERRY TROUBADOUR
I’m a merry, merry troubadour, I love to stroll along; To the Baron’s hall or wood-man’s cot, bring joy with quip and song. With my lute to keep me company, I freely take my fling, On the mountain trail in sylvan vale, carefree I gaily sing. I’m a laughter loving wanderer, I rove from East to West; And my home is where I strum my lute, I sup and sing and jest. When I serenade the ladies fair, from ivied casements they Throw a silken kerchief or a kiss, a largess for a sweet love-lay. I’m a roaming, rhyming troubadour, I sing to man and maid, Of the armored knight who boldly fights in tourneys unafraid. I’m beloved by monks in the monast’ry they join in songs of cheer— Thrilling hearts with joyful melody is my vocation here. [page 31]
HOW LONG IS LIFE?
How long is life? I asked a youth Whose face was wreathed in smiles; He laughed and said: “Why, life to me Is an alluring, endless sea, That beckons and beguiles.” And then I asked a man of years,— “How long is life?” He answered me: “Why, life is but a tiny stream, That vanishes like fleeting dream, Into eternity.” [page 32]
THE STAR OF HOPE
Immortal hope, it lures us on, It is the soul’s bright evening star; Its lucid light, streams in the night, And beckons to us from afar. It gleams and bids us not to fear, And guides us o’er storm-beaten way, It’s power destroys all haunting care, Cheers sombre eve with silver ray. We falter,—many fears assail, But hope shines on with lustrous beam, In promise of some future joy, It glows in radiance supreme. It is the crown of life. It will Supply the soul with ardent zeal, And in its great, life giving rays, A thrill divine doth o’er us steal. [page 33]
PRAYER GIVES STRENGTH
O prayer gives strength unto the weak, A holy might to all who seek, Invigorates the weary breast, Rebukes our fears and gives us rest. It keeps the soul in tune with Heav’n— A fount of grace is freely giv’n; As show’rs refresh the thirsty rose, Our faith revives, divinely grows. And prayer relieves us of our ills, With sweet contentment ever fills, It lifts us far from earth’s domain, Until the heights of God we claim. [page 34]
OUR ARENA
Life is like a great Arena, We as gladiators fight; With the evil that’s within us, We must ever try our might. Quietly, unseen it cometh, Subtler than an outward foe, If we struggle not for freedom, It’s with us where ere we go. Life is like a great Arena, We as gladiator’s fight; Let us buckle on our armor, Battle then with all our might; If we check our evil passions, Masters then are we of soul, Other evils should not fright us, We have reached a shining goal. [page 35]
THE UNKNOWN LAND.
Youth
Flush of dawn in morning sky, Birds just fledged, about to fly, Flowers seeking for the light, Knowing naught of storm or blight, Trumpets sounding, O so sweet, Steady tramp of marching feet, Marching to an unknown land,— Vista which appears so grand!
Age
Sunset and the close of day, Autumn leaves in colors gay, Twilight sky with crimson bars, Even chimes and peeping stars, Memories that rush in streams, Tender little fireside dreams, Still an unknown land to view,— Home eternal of the true! [page 36]
ODE TO POETRY
A precious thought expressed in rhyme,
Where words like music sweetly chime.
You capture dream or fine ideal,
And make them tangible and real,
As bright and fair as moon’s soft light,
That gleams so heavenly at night,
Give courage on the darkest way,
Of sordid life in its dull day.
A touch of soul, a kindled fire,
That burns away the earth’s desire,
Creates a radiance sublime,
That on our path will ever shine,
A dream in which we always see,
A great deal of reality;
For vision is a wondrous thing,
To make the heart rejoice and sing.
* * * * * *
A garden where the spirit dwells,
And weaves in words its mystic spells,
On wings of Pegasus to fly,
And wrest the secrets from the sky. [page 37]
THE MORN WILL COME
The glowing sun sinks in the west, Its glory passing out of sight. We’re not dismayed for well we know, The morn will come again with light. When darkness comes into our lives, The sunlight of the soul seems gone, Do not despair ‘twill shine again, And brighter will appear the dawn. Trust in the same Almighty Hand That guides the sun upon its way. Then after sorrow’s darkest night Will come the brilliancy of day. [page 38]
EASTER LILY
If our wayward hearts could be Pure and spotless just like thee. Gone for ever would be strife, Heavenly would be this life, Vanished every thought of sin, Pure and cleansed our souls within. Lovely petals, white as snow, In your heart a golden glow, Chalice sweet, refreshing bright, As the dew-drops of the night; Pure as Christ’s most wondrous love, Guiding us to home above. Humbly bent, thy graceful head, Like our Saviour, who hath bled, On the cross in agony, Suffered shame for you and me. Riven side and pierced hand, How can we such love withstand? Easter lily, we would be Pure and spotless, just like thee. [page 39]
TEMPUS FUGIT
The moments and the years fly by, And life seems not so very long; Too soon we wake as from a dream, To find our precious youth has gone. Why should we call him Father Time? When he seems such a robber bold— He steals away our gracefulness, And leaves us weary, weak and old. When we would fain be always young And vibrant with the joys of May, He subtly comes—we hardly know, Just when he takes our youth away. But acts of grace that we may do, He cannot from us take away, For they will be a treasure trove, To last beyond the judgment day. [page 40]
ALWAYS YOUNG
The Autumn of my life has come, Still in my dreams I’m always young. Oft times I sit on Mother’s knee, While she sings lullabys to me, And bridal wreath and almond trees, Waft their sweet perfume to the breeze. Sweet dreams of youth and days of yore, Keep bright my heart for ever more, And dear old songs we used to sing, In memory like echoes ring. Old Father Time, where is thy sting? There’s sunshine in my heart, and Spring. The Autumn of my life has come, Still in my dreams I’m always young. Dreams of peace, with man and God, To follow in the path Christ trod; Eternal Spring,—thy font to find, Keep kindness in the heart and mind. [page 41]
AMBITION’S FIRES
It’s gold, more gold, more precious gold— The craving is for wealth untold; Ambition’s fires work in the brain, And gain, more gain is the refrain, Forgetting that we soon grow old, And when death comes we need not gold. Then at the altar fire of fame, Some sacrifice, nor think it vain, The constant struggle for a name, The world will greet with great acclaim, But fame is fickle, soon is lost, Though bought at a tremendous cost. A king with heart consumed by fire,— To conquer all was his desire, He made the earth so desolate, A place of bloodshed and of hate, And though the world was rest and torn, He now sits crownless and forlorn. Ambition’s fires will onward leap, With rushing devastating sweep,— A force that ever stronger grows, And merciless to all its foes. So virtue then a vice becomes, When out of reason’s bounds it runs. [page 42]
OLD AGE SHOULD SHINE IN BEAUTY
Old age should shine in beauty, like the sunset’s golden glow, For it has recompenses, joys, the youthful cannot know, The vanities of earth have passed in panoramic flight, The garish sun no more will blind the aged one’s with it’s light; They now sit calm, contented, far away from passion’s sway, For cool, sweet days of Autumn follow Summer’s scorching ray; And they have great resources, for experience makes wise, And beauty too if kindness, fair as starlight lights the eyes. No age is there to spirit or to intellect of man. Ever seeking for the truth is the truly godlike plan. With age the race for pleasure palls, no longer has its day, For duty gives us happiness when the hair has turned to grey. And age takes time to meditate, of hope and love to dream, A halo bright of glory theirs, if on the Lord they lean. [page 43]
THERE’S JOY IN WORDS
There’s joy in words like melic, dulcet, harmony, delight; They seem as full of music as the chime of bells at night; And mother, home and country, they are symbols of the best— A sense of peace and happiness, of quiet and of rest. Medieval, feudal, chatelaine—they speak a bygone day, When knights in glist’ning armor, rode to tourney and to gray; And cross and crown and conqueror, ecstatic are to me; They breathe of joys eternal, where the soul of man is free. [page 44]
BELLS OF ST. ALBANS
I was sitting near a window, brooding over sorrows deep, When sweet music came a-winging, gently hushed them all to sleep; ‘Twas the bells of old St. Albans, chiming out so clear and bright, Melody was wafted to me, on the breezes of the night.
Chorus
Chiming bells of old St. Albans, breaking through the gloom of night, Streams of dulcet notes are floating, messengers of life and light. The even-song is gaily pealing, hear it echo down the street, O’er the river, on the highway, vibrant bells ring pure and sweet; Waves of music outward spreading, over all the worldly din, Seemed a Seraph’s song of glory, far above the City’s sin. [page 45]
O RESTLESS SEA
You’re a beautiful mystery, O restless sea And so ageless your lure, and so tuneful your glee, In a moment you change, you are no longer meek, And your voice is then heard, in demoniac shriek; Rushing waves now throw up a great foam-crested spray, And you murmur and rage, through the night and the day; But when sunlight appears, you then ripple along, And you smile and you sing a most wonderful song. Is this why you are murmuring, ceaseless untired, Like a dream-ridden mystical siren inspired? Do you whisper of secrets you know of so well, And are these the strange tales you are wishing to tell?: Of the blood-curdling sea-fights with pirates so bold, Who in some secret place may have hidden their gold; The adventurous ones going out to explore— You have borne them so quickly from shore unto shore, Though the waves mountains high would first pitch and then toss, And the shrill cry was heard of the great albatross; Of the tropical Isles whose white sands you oft lave, And the seamen who found in your depths a lone grave? [page 46] Of the mighty sea-fleets and the battles they fought, And the deep sunken treasure you count as of nought. Or of ships that have taken the golden ripe grain, To the ones who were starving, just over the main. Of your waters so calm under ambient sky, Where the dangerous, beautiful coral reefs lie. O you restless, alluring and mystical sea, Is this why you are whispering, crooning with glee? [page 47]
A FAIRY GIFT
If wondrous gift I could bestow, As Fairies did in days of old, It would not be a gem to glow, Or shining treasure made of gold. My gift would be to those most dear, A mystic harp whose melodies, Of hope would banish every fear, A solace sweet to give hearts-ease. A dulcet harp to sing and sing, Until it reached the inner shrine, And there to vibrate and to ring, In song of hope and joy divine. [page 48]
IN TUNE WITH NATURE
Give me a heart that with all Nature is in tune, That I may see the loveliness of flow’rs in bloom; Joy in the beauty shimmering in wood-land scene; Majestic river, flowing-rippling chant of stream; The song of birds in Spring, the droning of the bee, Let me perceive the splendor, ever near to me. And when I look upon the grandeur of the hills, (Where rushing to the vale are sparkling little rills); In velvet of the greensward, daisy dotted lea, With fair blue sky above, contented may I be; In great open spaces, let my heart rejoice, And learn of Mother Nature, listen for her voice. In rustic charm of shaded, quiet country lane, Or in stupendous height of mighty mountain chain, The winding path through forest, canopied with green, The golden bars of sunset-purple haze between; The sapphire sea that rolls and sings incessantly,— For me all Nature’s haunts resound with melody. [page 49]
MOONLIGHT AND ROSES
Moonlight haunted was the garden— Sweet with fragrance and with dew, Tender memories linger with me,— I dream of roses and of you. Bright the moon looked down upon you— Radiant in silver light— Rivalling the crimson flowers, Swaying near you on that night. When the fleecy clouds are playing Hide and seek with lady moon, Oh to meet you there again love, When red, red roses bloom in June. [page 50]
AGE ROMANTIC
Olden days we call romantic, Age when knighthood bloomed so fair, When the clash of tilt and tourney— Shouts of vict’ry rent the air; But it is a far-off crying, From the knight in gleaming mail, To intrepid bird-men flying, Through the mist and sleet of gale; Sea below and space above them, Asking nought but fighting chance; O I’m sure we must be living, Still in days of great romance, For our quests are far more venturous, Than the quests of days gone by,— Bird-men o’er the ocean flying, Frightful perils ever nigh. In the olden days they never, E’en in fancy’s wildest flight, Dreamed of men in tiny airplanes, Winging o’er the sea at night. [page 51]
THE CONFLICT
The Spirit
Not hampered by this sordid flesh of mine, Oh, I could soar to heights of thought sublime, And like a star that courses in the sky, (Not weighted down by flesh) I too could fly, Afar from earth to vision’s wondrous land, And Heaven’s glories be at my command.
The Flesh
O yes, I could enjoy the revelry, With comrades gay, if I were only free, But when the impulse urges from within, The spirit voice cries “Stop! It leads to sin” And if I fail to listen, sorrow’s mine, And shadows hide the vision so sublime. [page 52]
BEAUTIFUL BERKSHIRE HILLS
O Berkshire hills, now crowned with haze, In regal beauty all ablaze!— For through the mist a golden light, A stairway makes, from vale to height. The purple mist turns ruby red, In far-flung trail it gleams o’er head, It seems to lead unto the gate, Where mysteries eternal wait. The stately pines on mountain side, Are tall and graceful in their pride— A blended mass of living green— Lend verdant touch to rugged scene. Majestic-calm, the great hills stand, Placed there by Nature’s mystic hand, And far removed from valley stream, In rays of dying sun they gleam. Uplifting, is the grandeur there, A range of hills, a sky most fair, All scintillate in colors bright, Before the coming of the night. O, who could look without a thought, Of marvels that on earth are wrought? Be thankful for the power to see, That beauty lives in land and tree. [page 53]
LANES OF SURREY
Lanes of Surrey, lanes of Surrey, Most seductive your array, Hedges covered with blackberry, Wild rose with its blossoms gay; There the clover round and rosy, Lends its fragrance to the breeze, In the distance, cottage cosy, Nestles ‘neath the great oak trees. Lanes of beauty, lanes of beauty, Lanes the country, folk adore, Where the love of home and duty, Will abide for evermore, Joy of living, joy of living, Floats so subtly in the air, For the harvest fields are giving Color to a scene most fair. Lanes so blissful, lanes so blissful, Through them it is joy to rove, With your sweetheart shy and wistful, Buttercups your treasure-trove, And you listen in the gloaming, To the nightingale’s sweet lay, O ‘tis rapture to keep roaming, O’er this daisy-dotted way. [page 54]
FOUNTAINS OF JOY
O Scattered through this world so drear, Are sparkling fountains full of cheer. For hidden in sweet Flora’s dells, Are charms that weave their magic spells; Where love and laughter meet and play, Among the trees the live-long day. Joy, joy in Spring, and love her smile, Let blossoms fair our hearts beguile. The perfume wafted from a tree, Should keep us from despondency; Sweet fountains of new life are then, So brightly sparkling in the glen. Have faith in God, the things divine, A brighter sun for us will shine, And as we wander on our way, More glorious will be life’s day, Drink deep from fountains crystal clear, And faith will triumph over fear. [page 55]
EVENING BELLS
When the evening bells are pealing, Our sun is sinking in the west; When the lengthening shadows deepen, May we know we’ve done our best. When the bright day is behind us, In its memories may we find, We have struggled to be faithful, Just and helpful to mankind. When the soft and silvery twilight, Steals on us with movement fast, And the evening bells are calling, May we hear “Well done!” at last. [page 56]
ENCHANTING HARP
Enchanting dulcet harp, thy quiv’ring notes of joy so quickly flow, Then slower trill, in liquid cadence soft, as winds that whisper low. Thy melody divine fills hearts with bliss, and longing’s vague delight— We vision bowers where tinkling fountains play—a golden moon in flight. In Tara’s halls there sounded long ago the music sweet of lyres, Now in the harper’s chiming chords we hear the angel choirs. [page 57]
MESSAGE OF THE CHIMES
Softly through the air are stealing Sounds so dulcet, so appealing, In the turret gently swaying, Soft tongued bells of wisdom saying: “Listen to my message pealing Upward! outward! joy revealing.” Silver chimes they tell this story, God is love and life and glory. Out upon the night winds blowing— Feeling, stealing, gently flowing— Soft tongued bells of love are saying: “Come to me ye lost and straying.” Vibrant bells of metal ringing, Pealing, chiming, swinging, singing,— “To all men I tell this story: God is love, and life, and glory.” [page 58]
LOVE IS DIVINE
If ev’ry one would ask the Infinite above, That He bestow on them the precious gift of love; This world would blossom like a sweet and fragrant rose; Eternal rapture would in ev’ry heart repose. For love is mighty strength, a spiritual force, It brings to life perfection—knoweth no remorse. To love thy neighbor as thyself, O thine the gain, For he who loves his neighbor, liveth not in vain. Love is a golden harp with many vibrant strings, Its music fills the heart, until with joy it sings; A smile it brings to lip, a light within the eye, A peacefulness of soul, serene as cloudless sky. This earth would be a paradise if love divine, Would glorify each one with rays that brightly shine; For war would vanish quickly, dawn dispel the night, And ev’ry thought of evil, swiftly take its flight. [page 59]
MY MOTHER
I know some one with heart of gold,
Full of patience, love untold.
She taught me how to walk, to pray,
And cared for me the live-long day—
My Mother.
And when my heart was full of grief,
She gave me comfort and relief,
When oftimes ill and racked with pain,
She nursed me until strength I’d gain—
My Mother.
And even though I knew defeat,
Her love for me was still complete,
In loss or sorrow, gain or fame,
Her love for me was just the same—
My Mother.
Oh, tender one with heart of gold,
May I repay when you grow old—
My Mother? [page 60]
OUR BABY DEAR
From the land of hope, wee baby dear, You came a tender blossom here— A rosebud seeking for the light. We greeted you with fond delight; Your tiny, helpless, clinging hands, Twined round our hearts like silken bands. Sweet baby dear, we pray that you, May have bright years with sorrows few, May wisdom all through life’s pathway, Uphold and guide you day by day; In God’s great garden may you shine, And radiate His love divine. [page 61]
A WISH
Sweet baby o’ mine, my blue-eyed boy, Already thou art a measureless joy, And this is my dearest wish for thee— Thy manhood be brave, rejoicing, free, And this old world a better place, Because of thy service, truth and grace. [page 62]
ELUSIVE SPRING
Fair Spring—she whispers in the wood-land, murmurs in the glen, But she is so elusive, far away she flies again; Before she goes she touches each expectant little flow’r, And tells them she will come again with sunshine and with show’r; “I’ll come as Queen in bright array, I will not tarry long, Quite soon, dear subjects, I’ll return to cheer you with my song.” The tender buds lift up their heads and patiently they wait, And long for their dear Queen’s return in majesty and state; At last they see her coming swiftly over hill and dale, With zephyr breeze a-blowing through her streaming azure veil; In attendance are the birds and bees, the butterflies so gay; She whispers to the waiting flow’rs—“This this I’ve come to stay.” [page 63]
THE SILVER BIRCH
O silver birch, O graceful tree,— Dame Nature when she fashioned thee, She made a tree of witch’ry fair, So wraith-like, luminous and rare, Like Norseman stately, white and strong, That mingles with a dark-skinned throng, With silv’ry leaves and snowy bark, Against your neighbors brown and dark. There in the wood-land dense you gleam, As moonlight shimmers on a stream. O silver birch, O graceful tree,— Dame Nature when she fashioned thee, Made thee with hanging pennants gay, To wave and float the live-long day, And when the even comes at last, New beauty o’er thee seems to cast, And in the twilight we can see, Your branches dance elusively, So white and beautiful you stand, Upon our own dear native land. [page 64]
BEAUTY EVERYWHERE
O there is beauty everywhere; But we must have the eyes to see, In mossy dell, on mountain top, There’s beauty sweet in flow’r and tree. In sunsets fair and glorious glow; The emer’ld green of surging sea, There’s beauty in the palm and pine, The sheep that browse upon the lea. There’s beauty in the drifting clouds, When veiling Luna’s lucent light, In tiny twinkling stars above, A fleeting beauty of the night. Soft beauty in the swirling snow; It whirls and wheels, and then falls down, To cover all the country-side, With fairy-like and spotless gown. There’s beauty in the home fire bright; When we at even from toil are free, There’s beauty, beauty everywhere, But we must have the eyes to see. [page 65]
THE ORCHARDS OF ONTARIO
When Spring puts on her pageantry, resplendent gleams the earth and sky, Upon the banks of lakes and streams her jade-green banners boldly fly. She fondly favors orchard trees—gives them a tender, warm caress, And lo, they burst out glorious, adorned like brides in filmy dress. Rose-tinted pearls are not more fair than lovely blooms upon the trees; The cherry blossoms of Japan blend not sweeter scent with breeze. The beautiful outspreading trees are floral visions of delight, The sky an azure dome and flecked with floating clouds of fleecy white. The feathered songsters now return from tranquil Southern holiday, To join in merry madrigals throughout the gladsome month of May. Oh, there’s enchantment wafted on the balmy, whisp’ring winds of Spring— For when the earth rejuvenates the pipes of Pan insistent ring— [page 66] The inmost heart’s recess is filled with Spring’s elusive melody, As singing birds go on the wing, from fragrant pear to apple tree. And near the orchards, children play around the open farmhouse door, With beauty their inheritance, oh tell me who shall count them poor? For beauty fosters cheerfulness, it satisfies the soul’s desires; Where sordid things grow wearisome, the truly beautiful inspires. Ontario’s a fruitful land, for many miles her orchards reach, As time goes by the trees are gay with luscious apple, pear and peach, And when the Summer days have fled, then Autumn comes with gracious mien. In witching, colorful array magnificent as Sheba’s queen. Her robes are purple, red and gold, with wreaths of grapes twined in her hair, A cornucopia’s in her hand, ‘tis brimming o’er with fruitage fair. [page 67]
WHERE THE FRUIT TREES BUD AND BLOW
Fragrance sweeter far than incense, Greets us from the blooming trees; Fit for gods the scent elusive, Wafted on the wings of breeze. Kissed by Sol’s bright rays, the blossoms Gleam like roseate tinted snow, ‘Tis a paradise of beauty, Where the fruit trees bud and blow. [page 68]
THE PALMS AND THE WHISPERING WINDS
O stately palms of Southern lands, How tall you grow in the sun-kissed air, With feath’ry fronds so beautiful, Outspreading, fountain-like and fair! No frost to kill your lovliness, Or make you withered brown and sear; To wistful music of whisperings winds, You gaily dance throughout the year. The balmy trade-winds murmured low, “I’ve come from far across the sea; The spray, I dashed on coral reefs, Then on I went in spritely glee; I made the palm trees sway so fast, (Green fans a-gleam on graceful stalk) That you could hear them swish and sway, If near to them you chanced to walk. I passed along the Isle of Pines, I shook the palm trees strong and green; Then feathers roughed of great sea-birds, Until they’d dive—then proudly preen. I’ve swelled the sails of little yachts, That floated on the sapphire bay; But I love best to stop and rest, And with the lofty palm trees play.” [page 69]
LIFE IS A SONG
Sing in notes vibrating, strong, Making life a hopeful song, Full of melody and cheer, Glad’ning all the souls who hear; Let not discord—false notes ring, In the song of life we sing. Let it swell triumphant, long, In a brave and happy song, Wafting music far and near,— Grand Te Deums, chanting clear, Cadence sweet to it belong, Making life a tuneful song. Hymn, not dirge as we toil on, Let it be a soulful song; May it echo from the hill, Ringing, singing there until Spirit strong and bravely sweet, Angel’s songs our own will greet. [page 70]
WHERE MARY AND THE CHRIST-CHILD LAY
A silver star in glorious flight, Adorned the sky with streams of light, And Bethlehem shone bright as day, Where Mary and the Christ-Child lay. The shepherds tending flocks by night, Were awed by star so strangely bright,— Knew not it shed its splendent ray, Where Mary and the Christ-Child lay. When lo, an angel’s vibrant voice Said unto them, “Rejoice, rejoice, Go follow star to manger grey, Where Mary and the Christ-Child lay.” Entrancing music sounding near, Forgotten now their awe and fear, With hearts exulting seek the way, Where Mary and the Christ-Child lay. The Magi from the far-off East, Came not on camels to a feast, But with their gifts, to praise and pray, Where Mary and the Christ-child lay. [page 71]
CHRISTMAS LONG AGO
Enchanted was the old stone hearth, With flick’ring Yule log’s ruddy glow, Where lovely ladies, stately knights Made merry long, long years ago. In archway of the manor hall, The magic mistletoe was there, And ‘neath it often was enticed A blushing maid or matron fair. A joyous eve for one and all, Dear friends and happy lovers greet, While harp and viol everywhere Beat time for lively, tripping feet. The holly red and evergreen, Were hanging festooned on the wall, And good old fashioned Christmas cheer, Was served in spacious banquet hall. And happy hearty carols made The great old oaken rafters ring, They sang of Christ of Bethlehem, And proudly hailed Him as their King. And quickly sped the golden hours In gay, romantic days of old, When Christmas was a festival, And hearts beat faithfully and bold. [page 72]
MY ONLY HOPE
O blessed Jesus, comfort bring Unto my lonely, waiting soul, Be near me when I hear the tide, Of death’s dark waters o’er me roll. And when my spirit takes it flight And hovers fearful on the brink, Of deep and unknown mystery, Let not my faith or courage sink. My only hope, to Thee I cling, O bear me on the surging tide, Dear Jesu take all fear away, And guide me to the other side. [page 73]
SPIRIT OF RIGHTEOUSNESS
Spirit of righteousness, O leave me not, Whether I live in mansion or cot; Envy and hatred will tremble and flee, Great and just spirit, if thou bide with me. Stay thou forever, great spirit of light, Throw on my pathway a radiance bright; Heavenly graces will ever be mine, If thou be with me, sweet spirit divine. Hold thou my hand, be a guide unto me, O’er the rough land, amid tumults at sea; Sun through the clouds in its glory will shine, If, O blest spirit, thou art fully mine. Spirit of righteousness, dwell thou with me, Strengthen my soul, make it hopeful and free; Sin with its sorrow will fly far away, Spirit so holy, if thou with me stay. [page 74]
NATURE’S FAMOUS HOSTELRY
Dame Nature keeps a famous hostelry, And all her guests she treats right royally; In one vast living room they gather where, Her beauties and her granduer all may share; The walls are decked with gleaming pictured scene, Where rainbow colors blend with living green. Wind swept, and garnished with the palm and pine, The crystal fountains murmur songs divine, Where air exilerates as nectar strong, And strengthens sinews, youth and life prolong, And here Adventure dwelleth, fair to see, And beckons saying, “Come, O come, with me.” [page 75]
THE ENCHANTED GARDEN
I rambled in a garden fair, Enchanted it appeared to be, The gentle winds were whispering— The flowers seemed to speak to me. “I’m love,” declared a sun-kissed rose, “And for all lovers blithe and gay, Deep from my blushing, crimson heart, A message sweet, to them convey.” A scarlet hued geranium then, Upheld her flaming, bonny head, “Oh, Consolation is my name— A cheerful glow around I shed.” “I’m Thought,” exclaimed a pansy bloom, “And meditation’s my desire, I list to wistful, murm’ring winds, And great the wisdom I acquire.” “I’m the Emblem of Friendship true,” Now piped the ivy from the wall, “And that is why I cling so tight, And never, never have a fall.” “I’m Innocence,” the daisy said, “Near mother earth I always stay, For nothing there can injure me— I bloom in modesty each day.” [page 76] The lily spoke in accents low, And slowly raised her graceful head; “O sweetness, I am always called, And fragrance sweet around I shed. I left the enchanted garden then, And pondered deeply as I went— The sighing summer breezes flung, O’er me the flow’rs delightful scent. The flowers give glad messages; They clothe in beauty all the earth; I think the angels breathed on them, And glorified them at their birth. [page 77]
EVERY GARDEN IS AN EDEN
Every garden is an Eden, where our God in glory walks, Through the satin-petalled flowers, He to us in beauty talks; Gazing at the fragile blooms, in each expanding bud we trace The Hand that swings the universe and keeps the smallest stars in place. Dew like trembling tear-drops, glistens on the hearts of roses red; Pansies lift their tiny faces, peep at lilies overhead; Columbine is gently swaying near the blue forget-me-nots, And the song-birds voice their pleasure in this fair and hallowed spot. One who loves to tend a garden where the perfumed flowers blow, Feels a fleeting breath from Heaven, bringing to the soul a glow. [page 78]
“BEAUTY”
Some see great beauty in a rose, In a marble statue in calm repose, Or in the starry heavens at night That fill the soul with radiant light. Some in forests deep and dense, See beauty that enthralls the sense. An artist sees in his landscape fine A marvelous beauty most divine. To the musician, chants and chords An exquisite delight affords. But I see beauty in your face; Your form to me is full of grace. [page 79]
SUNSET ON BISCAYNE BAY, FLA.
The bright rays of the sun were as fire flaming free, Where small pixies were dancing and prancing with glee; In a moment great clouds of a violet hue, Swept along and they hid the quaint creatures from view; Then a forest in flames near a mountain of snow, Illumined a stream of clear azure below. These strange things were seen in a sweet ambient sky, As the twilight was nearing, the day soon to die, And the Bay’s moving waters reflected the scene Till a glory not earthly around seemed to gleam, And the boats fair were sailing on roseate sea, While faint echo of song could be heard from the lea; And the sea-birds were circling so high over head, Where the dawn in its glory was never more bright Than this beautiful sky before shadows of night. [page 80]
LUCK
“Some seem to have all the luck, you know,— I remember that man, when poor as a crow; ‘Tis strange how some manage to get along, Nothing with them ever seems to go wrong; Everything he touches, just turns to gold, Like old King Midas, in days of old.” O yes, that man has the greatest of luck, The luck to be patient, steadfast at his work, While others are playing, or trying to shirk. The luck to keep plodding, and using his brain, Doing good work, rather than thinking of gain; The luck to put up with the daily grind, Racking his brain, new ideas to find. The average person may call it luck But I call it work, and brains and pluck. [page 81]
YOUR BEST
Give me your best, this old world cries, My best is to one who bravely tries; O give me best of brawn and brain, Success will follow in its train; Think what goes in, not what comes out, The harvest will come without a doubt. Give me your best, this old world cries, Your best before the swift time flies; The laggard would grasp before he’s paid, It slips through his fingers and he’s dismayed; With leisure to sing, to dance, to laugh, He reaps a great harvest, but it’s of chaff. Give me your best, this old world cries, My best is to one who bravely tries; Just let your talents brightly shine, Success and fame are gifts of mine; Like bread upon the waters cast, Return to you tenfold at last. [page 82]
MELTUM IN PARVO
Constructive man can build a town,
Adorned with mansions fair to see;
But it’s beyond the skill of man,
To make a shady, shelt’ring tree.
Man can fashion ships of steel,
To brave the waves of seven seas;
He cannot form the heathered hills,
Or brown-eyed daisies of the leas.
Inventive man has brought us song,
In phonograph, by radio;
He cannot make a singing bird
That flies so gaily to and fro.
Though gallant man the sky has dared,
In planes he wings o’er ocean wide—
Why should his spirit be obsessed
With vanity and undue pride?
At best we’re sons of fragile flesh,
Imprisoned here on this green sod;
The wisdom of the wisest man
Is counted foolishness with God.
* * * * * * *
If man’s morality kept pace
With His great scientific plan,
Oh, then we’d have a super race,
A god-like creature would be man. [page 83]
THE WINTER KING AT NIAGARA FALLS
The Winter king makes splendent gems, to deck Niagara’s rugged shore. At night he deftly strings them there, then adds in daylight to his store; He captures snow, the pearly spray, and weaves them into patterns rare; The water’s edge, the banks so steep he wraps in frosted garments fair. With filmy lace in clinging grace, the little shrubs are sweetly gowned. All crusted o’er with diamonds bright, they trail on snowy coated ground. The trees of pine in glory shine, their branches bending very low, Laden down and drooping ‘neath the crystallized and gleaming snow. Below the Falls an ice mound glints—by old King Winter’s breath ‘twas formed; The amethystine water’s edge with great ice hummocks is adorned, From shore to shore’s a bridge of ice, as marvellous as artist’s dream. While underneath imprisoned is the sobbing, surging stream. O fairyland of ice and snow, mysterious is your allure!— A picture chaste and beautiful and symbolizing all things pure. [page 84]
MARTYRED ARMENIA
Armenia, a martyr thou— For centuries by Turk oppressed; With crown of thorns upon thy brow, A broken heart within thy breast! O’ercome by Turks, who crushed the weak, And counted them their lawful prey, The dark-eyed youths and maidens meek, They sold in slavery each day— The Turk, thine ancient enemy, Who loves to torture and to kill, (Thy people had no place to flee) They wreaked their lustful, cruel will— The old were driven out to die, In agony on desert waste, Beneath the scorching sun to lie, And there the cup of death to taste. O robed in anguish, girt with grief, Almost exterminated now; Hast cried for help—with scant relief— A martyred Christian nation thou. [page 85]
I ENVY NONE
I envy not a King on earth, Or Prince that is of royal birth; For we’re all made of common clay, The high, the mighty, proud and gay; They pay some way in stress and strife, The cares of state or social life. The world is full of vanity— My farmer’s life is useful, free; I help produce the world’s supply, Of corn and wheat, of barley, rye; And Nature’s my university. In open air she teaches me— The small red squirrel through the day, Will gather nuts to store away, When winter comes and cold wind blows, Why then to treasured store he goes; A lesson of thrift I’m taught, you see, While working, whistling happily, I envy none, ah no, not I, I work in peace ‘neath azure sky. At fairest scenes all day I gaze, From mist of dawn to twilight haze; The beauty of the shelt’ring trees, The peaceful cattle on the leas; The flashing sunset’s ruby glow, No one but God could paint I know; [page 86] The brilliant oriole on the wing, The little larks that sweetly sing, I envy none on earth or sea, A farmer’s life, it justs suits me. I own the fields, the barn, the plows, The sheep on hillside, herd of cows; No one so proud of his domain, Than I when cutting golden grain. (The farmer works in summertime, When sky is blue and weather fine, In winter’s cold he takes a rest— A farmer’s life is surely blest.) I envy not a King on throne, For my small kingdom’s all my own. [page 87]
A WITCH OF SALEM
(In 1692 nineteen persons were hanged in Salem for witchcraft)
I’m here! I’m here! to meet my fate, With head upheld and tearless eye, Though all shall say I am a witch, I scorn such men—and I defy. The earth has suffered long with drought, The grass is brown for want of rain, The cows, all droop and slowly die, My evil eye’s the cause, you claim. My joy to tame the forest birds, And rondelays for me they’d sing, “Black art! black art,” the neighbors said, And stones at me they’d oft times fling. No one will watch around my bier, Or tears of grief for me be shed, In life and death, alone, despised, For mercy from these men hath fled. With broken heart, my mother lies, So helpless through the day and night, When I am hanged upon the hill, Her spirit too may take its flight. [page 88] She oft called me her angel child, Dreamt not for me a fate so ill, Her daughter hanged on gallows tree, Behind the ivy-covered mill. The ivy-covered mill, O God! It was my trysting place with Jim, Now he is pitiless to me— Said I had cast a spell o’er him. In dreams, an Angel came to me And unto me he gently said: “Be brave! thy trials will soon be o’er— A crown is waiting for thy head.” I know that he was sent by God, Since then I have been comforted— O, hearts of stone, jeer not at me; Thou art by devils being led. You came here from old England’s shore,— It was for freedom, did you say? What freedom do you give to me? So helpless in your hands today. O, woe to Salem! woe to all Who have partaken of this deed, For Christ again you’ve crucified; Have put to scorn his loving creed. [page 89]
FIRE-WEED
On graves of far-off France, the sanguine poppy flames; Its crimson petals wave, where battles once were fought— The fire-weed grows and gleams, where raging, ruthless fire, Has over forest swept, and devastation wrought. O’er blackened stumps there blooms a flow’r of roseate hue, It wanders all about and glorifies the place, Where wood-land giants stood with proud uplifted arms, In native dignity, in loftiness and grace. Old Mother Nature has a sympathetic way, O’er ruins of a forest, on the blood-stained lea; To mark with glowing beauty, the place of sacrifice, Of loyal, fearless man, of stately forest tree. [page 90]
TIRED OF WAR
Tired of war, so tired and weary, breaking hearts cry out for peace, May all men take up the story, pray and work that war shall cease. All the tears of wives and mothers, of the hearts that nearly break, With the sorrow war has caused them, would a briny river make. Say it not that god intended, man to slay his fellow man, His the message, love thy neighbor, His the gentle loving plan. May the Nations see what madness—there’s no glory in vain war, Let the world cry out in gladness, peace, sweet peace forever more. And we pray that mighty statesmen, may in future some way find, That from warfare they may rescue, tortured, grieved and frail mankind. May the star of hope keep shining for a great and world wide peace, From now on and through the ages, bloodshed will forever cease. [page 91]
FORGET ME NOT
Forget me not, when I am gone; Think of the spirit that has fled; Do some kind act just for my sake, But let few tears for me be shed. Forget me not, though years fly by, Let faults be buried in the grave; The kindly act, the deed of grace, Will you in recollection save. Forget me not, when flow’rs bloom; The material body’s like the rose, Whose perfume is akin to soul, We know not whence it comes or goes. Forget me not, but live in faith, That some day we will meet again, In that dear land where love divine And everlasting peace shall reign. [page 92]
GOLDEN DREAMS OF YOUTH
O sweet are golden dreams of youth, So beautiful and wondrous fair, They seem upon the portals of Our lives as we are standing there; Great dreams of joy and happiness, Like butterflies, flit round and round; We live in hopes of future bliss, Enchantment there is ever found. On, on we go in our sweet dreams, We build our castles grand in Spain, A buoyant gladness in our hearts, That only youthful hearts may claim. So ardent are the dreams of youth, When fervid fancies are so gay, Adventures great, romance and love— We are so sure we’ll meet some day. [page 93]
SAN FRANCISCO
San Francisco dazzling vision, veiled in mist of silver-grey, As we sail through Golden Gate, then float toward you on the Bay. White-winged sea-gulls all around us, seem a band of heralds bright, Playing, calling, dipping, preening, whirling o’er us in delight. On we guide o’er sparkling waters, passing light-house quaint and high; Rugged rocks show in the distance, ‘gainst the opal-tinted sky. Passing scenes we glance at quickly, for our eyes keep turning to San Francisco now much nearer, towers and temples well in view. Burnished by the glowing sunlight, from the quay to hills you stand, City radiant in beauty, by the ocean breezes fanned. And our thoughts are flying backward to a grim and early day, When the travellers of the gold rush, hopefully came this same way. [page 94] Much we owe to those who venture first upon unbroken soil, For we reap reward of struggle, of their hardships and their toil. O we wonder if the sea-gulls flew around them joyfully, Premonition of good fortune, as they swept in from the sea. [page 95]
WITHIN OLD GARDEN WALLS
(A romance of days of old)
I dozed within the garden walls, Of villa picturesque and grey; They breathed of centuries gone by, When pomp and pleasure held their sway. The gnarled old ivy stout and strong, Seemed holding every stone in place; It gleamed upon the garden wall, In climbing, trailing, pliant grace. A broken fountain spoke of days Of pride and grandeur—now long past, For time doth speak in ev’ry thing,— Tells us that nothing here can last. Uncared for was the garden plot, The iris and the weed entwined; Grass peeped through slabs that made the walk, Time worn the seat where I reclined. Then in a moment all was changed, The fountain threw up silver spray, And doves were circling round and round, Their white wings whirring as in play. [page 96] And statues gleamed in beauty there; Red roses climbed on arbors high; The lilies with their perfumed bells, Rejoiced beneath a sapphire sky. Then down the marble terrace came A lady who was wondrous fair, Her gown was made of blue brocade; O’er shoulders flowed her golden hair. She held within her hand a rose, A tea-rose, fragile, pearly sweet; Then walking o’er the soft green sod, She came quite near to my retreat. ‘Twas then I saw her dark blue eyes, Were strangely bright with unshed tears, And by her manner I could see Her heart was filled with countless fears. Then from a little postern gate, A Courtier came with graceful mien, In costume of the time when France Was ruled by shallow King and Queen. “O heart of mine! I’m late,” said he— There was a Court fete on today, And nothing but the Queen’s commands, Could make me, sweetheart, stay away.” “My dear, I’ve waited here so long; And I have fateful news for you— My father claims a Courtier gay, As husband, never could be true.” [page 97] That I must say adieu to you, And not gaze on your face again—” ‘Tis hard to tell you dearest one— My heart is sore with grief and pain.” “O ask me not to say adieu— Though I respect thy sire’s commands, If thy dear hand I cannot claim, I’ll fight for France in foreign lands. Thy father is a Huguenot; He thinks because I serve my King, That I am like the heartless dolts, Who care nought but to have their fling. I see fair ladies ev’ry day, Thou art the sweetest of them all, My love for thee will never die; It’s thine, dear-heart beyond recall.” “And mine for thee,” the lady said, “Will shine forever bright and true; No barrier shall come between— To change my loyal love for you.” Then from behind a linden tree, There stepped a man with smiling face— “O children dear,” said he, “forgive, And clasp me in a fond embrace. For I have heard what you have said, And realize my sad mistake; Your lover true I have misjudged— A blessing now my children take.” [page 98] The lady’s eyes lit up with joy— The Courtier clasped the father’s hand; As if the great magician Love, Had waved o’er them his magic wand. With happiness upon each face, They seemed to melt away from sight— And I woke to find the moon, Was beaming with a lucent light. And there the broken fountain stood, Still beautiful—though in decay, But doves no longer circled it, Nor from it danced the silver spray. The arbor where the roses trailed Was gone—the grass was growing there, And where the lilies bloomed so sweet, An aspen trembled in the air. Was it a dream? It seemed to me, A vision I shall oft recall, To show romance will ever last, That love so true will conquer all. [page 99]
ARISE, O STAR, AND SHINE
Arise, O Star of Hope, and shine Again within this heart of mine, Endue me with thy spirit bright, O mystic messenger of light. The creeping clouds of doubt draw nigh— Flame, thou refulgent star, on high. Arise, and thrill me as of yore, Thy inspiration on me pour. The sombre shades, the deepening mist, Will change to gold when be thee kissed; O Star of Hope, with flashing ray, Make thou my night as fair as day. [page 100]
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