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Songs from the Carolina Hills 
 
SONGS FROM 
 
 The Carolina Hills 
 
 BY 
 
 LUCILLE ARMFIELD 
 
 » , » i 
 
 DOXEY'S 
 
 Ai the Sign of the Lark 
 NEW YORK 
 
THF LIBRARY OF 
 CONGRESS, 
 
 Two COPIcS Recsiv€0 
 
 OCT. ?S too? 
 
 C»- ASS CU^-Xo. No. 
 
 A^ 3 / 1 3 
 cpyy 8. 
 
 
 Copyright, 
 
 PY 
 
 DOXEYS, 1901. 
 
CONTENTS. 
 
 PAGE 
 
 To H. S. J II 
 
 Carpe Diem 12 
 
 The Prodigal 14 
 
 Satyrs All 15 
 
 Middle Age 16 
 
 The Two Roses 17 
 
 Unsatisfied 18 
 
 The Making of a Poet 19 
 
 Freedom 20 
 
 To-morrow will be May 22 
 
 Noon and Night 23 
 
 The New Planet 24 
 
 s 
 
CONTENTS. 
 
 PAGB 
 
 The Same 25 
 
 Mine Own 26 
 
 The Miracles of May 28 
 
 The Heavy Change 29 
 
 On Beaufort Beach 30 
 
 "You Know and I Know/' 32 
 
 I Thank Thee, God 33 
 
 Hope (A translation) 35 
 
 The New and the Old 37 
 
 Two Lullabies 39 
 
 The Prayer of the Woman 40 
 
 The Crimson and the Gray 41 
 
 The Way of Love 43 
 
 The House on the Sand 45 
 
 In an Old Italian Garden 46 
 
 To a Friend 48 
 
 The Tree of Gold 49 
 
 6 
 
CONTENTS. 
 
 PACK 
 
 To DOMIDUCA 50 
 
 On the Unveiling of the Mecklenburg 
 
 Monument 51 
 
 The Maiden from the Far Country 
 
 (A translation) 54 
 
 Faustina 56 
 
 White Butterflies 59 
 
 From Lookout Hill 62 
 
 The Prince and the Fool 66 
 
Songs from the Carolina Hills 
 
TO H. S. J. 
 
 I spread to-day my humble wares in view 
 
 Of all who chance to journey past this way. 
 
 With anxious heart and trembling hand I lay 
 My handiwork before the false and true, 
 And o'er and o'er arrange it all anew: 
 
 For some will praise, now this, now that ; some 
 say 
 
 That this were better left undone, while they, 
 Who pass indifferently, will not be few. 
 
 But you will look with love on every line 
 And see the joy and agony in each; 
 
 My soul will lie a book within your hand. 
 And all the deeper feelings that are mine, — 
 The inner thoughts I could not frame in speech, — 
 
 Your heart alone will read and understand. 
 
 II 
 
CARPE DIEM. 
 
 Wake, wake, my heart, 
 
 How slow thou art. 
 Ten thousand living things awake; 
 
 Be glad and gay 
 
 An hour, a day, 
 If only for sweet April's sake ! 
 
 The ivy leaves 
 
 Beneath mine eaves 
 Like careless children clap their hands; 
 
 While in and out. 
 
 Around, about. 
 Birds sing wild songs of foreign lands. 
 
 Oh, do not miss 
 
 The lover's kiss 
 That lurks in spring's caressing breeze ; 
 
 The peach-tree's blush 
 
 Foretells the flush 
 Only the happy sweetheart sees. 
 
 12 
 
CARPE DIEM. 
 
 The whippoorwill 
 
 Sets heart athrill — 
 An old, old friend returned at last; 
 
 The dove's low coo 
 
 Proclaims anew 
 That Peace prevails when storms are past. 
 
 Hopes lost and dead, 
 
 White dreams long fled 
 Now bloom in lilies fair and sweet ; 
 
 Full well I see 
 
 Eternity 
 In living green beneath my feet. 
 
 Ah, snatch the joy 
 
 Without alloy 
 That everywhere the glad Spring throws; 
 
 No thorn e'er yet 
 
 Made one forget 
 The bloom and perfume of the rose. 
 
 Hearts young and old, 
 
 Come hoard your gold 
 'Gainst cheerless Winter's hopeless day; 
 
 Nor ice can chill, 
 
 Nor sorrow kill, 
 The heart that knew its month of May! 
 13 
 
THE PRODIGAL. 
 
 "My years of youth lie waste, alas !" wept I, 
 "And spent the riches of my love for naught 
 That satisfies the soul, and I have fought 
 
 With swine for husks. In low despair I lie, 
 
 Remembering still the maiden,, pure and high, 
 Who to my soul true love and faith once 
 
 taught. 
 Now I will rise, and with this one vain 
 thought, 
 
 Will fall repentant at her feet, and die." 
 
 And so, weighed down with mine unworthiness, 
 Yet pressing on for many a weary mile, — 
 
 Reproaches everywhere and naught to bless — 
 While yet a great way off I saw her smile. 
 
 Her hands were held to greet me ; all forgiven, 
 
 I gazed into her eyes, and found my Heaven. 
 
 14 
 
SATYRS ALL. 
 
 With breathless wonderment and deep delight 
 I muse on that grotesque, long-vanished band, 
 Silenus' flock; and dancing, hand in hand, 
 
 The merry, romping satyrs greet my sight. 
 
 Yet thoughtful demi-gods, their mirth despite, 
 Celestial forms on cloven hoofs they stand ; 
 On brows divine, goat-horns set deep their 
 brand. 
 
 Till fades the olden dream, half dark, half 
 bright. 
 
 What multitudes of complex men abound — 
 Their brightest wit by saddest sin debased, 
 
 Divinest love with hellish hate oft found. 
 
 Their souls' best hope by earthly soil effaced. 
 
 Like chrysalis still clinging to the clod ; 
 
 The veriest satyrs all, part beast, part god ! 
 
 15 
 
MIDDLE AGE. 
 
 Gray, changeless skies oppress with leaden load 
 Dead, level plains with ne'er a hill upthrown; 
 Two radiant forms tread, wondering, the road. 
 Where bravest souls grow hopeless, if alone. 
 
 i6 
 
THE TWO ROSES. 
 
 She gave me a rose at the dawn of day, 
 
 At dawn when we had to part. 
 That its beauty might cheer the weary way, 
 
 And shut from my sight the skies of gray 
 Which threaten the bravest heart. 
 
 Tis evening now, and I hold the flower, 
 
 All faded and withered and torn ; 
 But its fragrance sweetens the twilight hour. 
 For it conquers my soul with a subtler power 
 
 Than that of the rose of morn. 
 
 She gave me her love in the days of youth, 
 
 O my heart, how fair was she ! 
 In her eyes' fond light I beheld the truth, 
 And ever it gladdened my heart, in sooth. 
 
 To know that they shone for me. 
 
 Now the love of my youth, and my faithful bride, 
 
 With her hand close-pressed in mine 
 Is doubly fair as she seeks my side — 
 For her soul's light waxed as her beauty died 
 Until she became divine. 
 
 17 
 
\j UNSATISFIED. 
 
 The world's sweet praises thrill my being 
 through, 
 
 For Fame, long-sought, has come to me at last. 
 
 Upon mine ears now fall the plaudits vast, 
 Unknown to all, save her immortal few. 
 Upon this glorious height I stand and view 
 
 The mountains and the valleys overpast; 
 
 Earth's dearest prizes at my feet are cast ; 
 The golden dreams of youth are all come true. 
 
 Yet it is all forgot whene'er I think 
 Of one who, unregretting, left my side. 
 
 In tearless grief low on the ground I sink — 
 A soul that made one prayer and was denied. 
 
 No cup of joy my thirsting heart can drink. 
 But aches and throbs and is not satisfied. 
 
 i8 
 
THE MAKING OF A POET. 
 
 For years he walked amid the human throng, 
 Unseeing and alone; for, fixed and far, 
 His gaze was set upon a wondrous star. 
 
 He yearned to catch some echoes of the song 
 
 The spheres sing in the heavens ; strove full long 
 To shape in flaming speech the thoughts that 
 
 are 
 So great and high that words their beauty mar ; 
 
 But ever failed, for he was weak and wrong. 
 
 At last among the toiling ones he wrought, 
 To earn life's simple bread with sweat and 
 tears, 
 And learned to feel their common woes and 
 
 mirth. 
 Then straight the words were wedded to the 
 thought, 
 The strains divine resounded in his ears, 
 And lo! the star had come to dwell on earth. 
 
 19 
 
FREEDOM. 
 
 Oh, I am free! 
 I need no longer trouble so 
 To think if he be pleased or no, 
 Nor joy to see his efforts crowned 
 Nor weep that fickle Fortune frowned, 
 I come and go without restraint. 
 Or word of praise or yet complaint, 
 
 For I am free! 
 
 Yes, I am free. 
 Free as the condor that can rise 
 As high as God has hung His skies; 
 That stoops not to the valleys green 
 Where smoke and mist and soil are seen; 
 But spurns, its heart with scorn aglow. 
 The joyous, grieving earth below. 
 
 Am I not free? 
 
 20 
 
FREEDOM. 
 
 Now free to roam, 
 Like to the wanderer o'er the earth 
 Who knows not homely cares or mirth. 
 With quiet heart, untouched to tears, 
 Of countries' weal or woe he hears 
 Strange tales, wherein he has no share. 
 Forever drifting here and there, 
 
 He finds no home. 
 
 Oh, I am free! 
 Free as the mother wild, dear God 1 
 Who leaves her first-born 'neath the sod. 
 Ah ! nevermore to feel close-prest 
 The dear warm burden at her breast. 
 No cry to hush, no weight to bear ; 
 No hope or fear, no joy or care; 
 
 So am I free! 
 
 21 
 
TO-MORROW WILL BE MAY. 
 
 I must not shed another tear, 
 
 To-morrow will be May. 
 No room is left for doubt or fear; 
 The gladdest time of all the year, 
 The dearest time is almost here, — 
 
 To-morrow will be May ! 
 
 I will no more be calm and cold, 
 
 There is no cold in May. 
 But let the warmth my heart enfold, 
 Like loving arms in days of old, 
 When lover spake the tale oft-told 
 
 That made the whole year May. 
 
 What happy greetings shall I bring 
 
 To welcome smiling May? 
 Oh! I shall laugh and dance and sing, 
 And flowers fair about me fling; 
 I shall not care for anything 
 
 For oh ! there's but one May ! 
 
 22 
 
NOON AND NIGHT. 
 
 At noontide's hour amidst the noise and glare, 
 The strife of worldly men and hot debate, 
 I sometimes think of her I loved, and straight 
 My heart grows hard and stern ; I cannot bear 
 To think she went away and did not care ; 
 And yet I know 'tis true. And so fierce hate 
 And pride do conquer love; I curse the fate, 
 The hour, that brought me one so false and fair. 
 
 But then comes night with peace and healing, 
 
 too, 
 And cools my burning brow with gentle breeze ; 
 The moonlight, soft and fair, around, above. 
 Brings back that glorious night when she was 
 
 true. 
 Then, sobbing low, I fall upon my knees. 
 And breathe my old-time prayer; — "God bless 
 my Love." 
 
 »3 
 
THE NEW PLANET. 
 
 For years a lost, wild star from Chaos' shore 
 Whirled on, no orbit fixed nor any aim, 
 Through blinding dark, keen cold, and fierce 
 white flame. 
 
 To all it passed it brought destruction sore ; 
 
 Till drawn by magic force, ne'er felt before, 
 At last to its one kindred star it came.^ — 
 One comet less, a planet calm and tame 
 
 Revolved around its sun forevermore ! 
 
 So I, while onward whirling, found my sun 
 The one great force my soul could not resist. 
 
 And now I rest from wandering mile" on mile, 
 Henceforth a narrow, changeless course I run. 
 Nor Freedom nor Infinity is missed. 
 
 The Universe all centered in her smile. 
 
 24 
 
THE SAME. 
 
 I cried: — "The soul desires the heights above, 
 And ever nobler things our hearts beguile. 
 To hear the nightingale for many a mile 
 
 He wanders who has only heard the dove; 
 
 So we shall change and know no cause thereof, 
 Now we must part; 'tis fate, a little while 
 Our sundered hearts will ache, then we shall 
 smile 
 
 To think again of our first foolish love." 
 
 Ah ! many a mile between us twain now lies. 
 And long, long years our lives have been es- 
 tranged ; 
 Our love is as a half-forgotten name. 
 But, yet, last night in dreams I saw his eyes 
 That sadly asked: "O Love, has thy heart 
 changed ?" 
 And mine replied, "It is the same, the same." 
 
 25 
 
MINE OWN. 
 
 For me no flower has blossomed in vain! 
 
 For me no songster has sung unheard! 
 I feel humanity's joy and pain, 
 
 And hear its every sigh and word ; 
 For a time I seem 
 
 To forget myself when my heart is stirred. 
 
 Yea, thousands of gorgeous blooms have I seen 
 Whose memory sweet will ever prevail ; 
 
 Beside their royal splendor and sheen 
 How would my plain little daisy pale! 
 
 Yet it is mine, 
 And its beauty fair will never fail. 
 
 Sweet-throated birds from strange, foreign 
 lands 
 With rapturous singing delight mine ear. 
 Their melody rich what heart withstands, 
 Their exquisite tones, so full, so clear? 
 
 Still the turtle dove 
 Sings the sweetest song my soul doth hear. 
 
 26 
 
MINE OWN. 
 
 A thousand places allure my feet 
 
 With glorious pile and stately dome, 
 
 Where beauty in Nature and Art is complete, 
 Where angels, even, might delight to roam ; 
 But there is one spot 
 
 That I love the best, for it is my home. 
 
 Though countless faces, radiant and fair. 
 
 My glad, wondering eyes have oft-times blest, 
 
 (For I have beheld the beauties rare 
 That bud and bloom in the east and the west) 
 
 Yet, I know not why. 
 One face still charms more than all the rest. 
 
 Ah! many a tale of love have I heard. 
 
 And women's glad eyes for me have shone ; 
 
 I love each lover's passionate word 
 And tremble with joy at his tender tone. 
 Yet I thank thee, God, 
 
 For the one love-tale that is all mine own. 
 
 27 
 
THE MIRACLES OF MAY. 
 
 Like magic spell 
 
 The clove-pink's spicy smell 
 
 Winds through the brain from cell to cell, 
 
 And into life doth every thought impel. 
 
 The soft air now, 
 
 Although I know not how. 
 
 Smooths all the wrinkles from my brow, 
 
 That Time and Grief have drawn with cruel plow. 
 
 And light and swift. 
 The gladsome wind doth lift 
 From off my soul its cares, that drift 
 Like clouds when sunbeams bright their curtains 
 rift. 
 
 Down in yon dell 
 
 Where joy must ever dwell. 
 
 The bell-bird rings the eternal knell 
 
 Of all the woes that e'er this heart befell ! 
 
 28 
 
THE HEAVY CHANGE. 
 
 Ah! in that far-off, happy long ago, 
 
 Whene'er a word of doubt our bliss would 
 
 blight, 
 Or look that showed distrust obscure the light 
 Within our eyes ; then ere a tear could flow, 
 A tender word or two, though whispered low. 
 Dispelled the gathering gloom, the fear-filled 
 
 night ; 
 And straightway passed each threatening 
 cloud from sight. 
 And Love suffused our skies with rosy glow. 
 
 But we have wandered into other lands. 
 And now we sit apart — hopes unfulfilled; 
 
 Shut off from smiles, beyond the touch of hands. 
 How hard on dead, cold words my faith to 
 build! 
 
 The mists of doubt toward the sun arise. 
 
 And showers of tears half blind my hopeless eyes. 
 
 29 
 
ON BEAUFORT BEACH, JUNE, 1898. 
 
 The cannon roar, the bugles blare, 
 Fierce shot and shell shriek everywhere, 
 Brave men are falling near and far, 
 
 And woman's heartache finds no ease; 
 Oh! God of Justice, Vengeance, War, 
 
 Where is the Prince of Peace? 
 
 Those starve who did not raise the strife! 
 These weep who lived a harmless life ! 
 O Gk)d, how men have yearned and toiled 
 
 To mount to heights of brother-love. 
 Yet now sink back, their efforts foiled, 
 
 Nor cast one glance above! 
 
 30 
 
ON BEAUFORT BEACH. 
 
 Upon this lone, unquiet shore 
 The great sea sings forevermore 
 Of other countries far from this. 
 
 Whose tranquil waters ne'er complain, 
 Where Peace our anguished brows shall kiss 
 
 And make us smile again. 
 
 Our feet those shores shall surely tread. 
 When these brief, troubled days are dead. 
 The blue heaven's calm steals over me 
 
 And all my passion sinks to rest; 
 War, war throughout the land and sea, 
 
 But peace within my breast. 
 
 3T 
 
"YOU KNOW AND I KNOW." 
 
 In flowery May mid daisies tall, 
 
 My love and I went straying, 
 The breezes mocked me merrily 
 
 With her brown tresses playing. 
 My boyish heart did leap with love; 
 
 I cried with cheeks aglow, 
 "Oh ! will you be my sweetheart, dear ;" 
 
 She smiled and answered low : 
 "You know and I know." 
 
 Again in dark December's day 
 
 We met with quiet greeting, 
 A little cloud obscured the sun. 
 
 My heart was calmly beating. 
 "Are you tired of me so soon?" 
 
 I asked in accents slow. 
 Behold the whole wide world was changed; 
 
 For oh! she whispered low: 
 
 "You know and I know." 
 
 32 
 
"YOU KNOW AND I KNOW.'* 
 
 Ah ! true, true heart, would God that I 
 
 Could e'er have kept her near me; 
 I had not killed her maiden love 
 
 Nor made her doubt and fear me. 
 O false, O foolish heart of mine, 
 
 How couldst thou treat her so? 
 O foolish heart, how couldst forget 
 
 Her words of long ago : 
 
 "You know and I know." 
 
 But empty words from shallow hearts, 
 
 And smiles that have no feeling 
 Have taught me how to prize the tones 
 
 Her deep, deep love revealing 
 For truer far than vows of love, 
 
 That others' lips bestow. 
 Her girlish voice rings through my soul 
 
 Across my sea of woe: 
 
 ''You know and I know." 
 
 33 
 
I THANK THEE, GOD. 
 
 For all the pain that I have ever known ; 
 
 For cold and dark ; for cruel childhood's hour, 
 
 Neglect and want; for curse and blow; for 
 
 power 
 
 To scorn them both ; for yearning heart and lone 
 
 That found few friends; for Misery's dying 
 
 moan, 
 
 Despair and Doubt that could not make me 
 
 cower, 
 I thank Thee, God ; since through these, like a 
 flower 
 The soul in grace and beauty oft hath grown. 
 
 Yet not for all. (Forgive ingratitude!) 
 Not for the false, weak one I loved in vain ; 
 
 Shame breaks my maiden heart, untamed and 
 rude. 
 And Reason cries against such useless pain. 
 
 I cannot see the good — not yet, not yet — 
 
 Nor kiss Thy hand. Oh, let me first forget ! 
 
 34 
 
HOPE. 
 
 (From the German of Emanuel Geihel.) 
 
 Though winter rave with threatening mien 
 
 And scatter ice and snow, 
 Yet gentle Spring comes back again 
 
 However the winds may blow. 
 
 Though heavy mists may press around 
 
 And hide the sun's dear light ; 
 We know that Spring awakens soon 
 
 The world to new delight. 
 
 Blow, raging storms, I fear you not, 
 
 Blow ye with all your might; 
 She comes, she comes, with velvet shod 
 
 And scatters all our night. 
 
 Then wakes the earth and dons her green — 
 
 She knows not how it is — 
 Up into Heaven she smiles as though 
 
 She fain would die for bliss. 
 
 35 
 
HOPE. 
 
 She twines her hair with garlands gay, 
 With wreathes of fruits and flowers; 
 
 The little fountain sparkles clear 
 As tears in joyful hours. 
 
 Be still, my heart, and rest content. 
 Though coldness make thee bleed; 
 
 For sure there is a day of rest 
 For all the earth decreed. 
 
 When thou art filled with fear and dread. 
 
 Trust God, forget thy pain. 
 For though 'tis drear as hell on earth, 
 
 Yet Spring will come again. 
 
 36 
 
THE NEW AND THE OLD. 
 
 (Two Sonnets.) 
 
 I. 
 
 To-night with honeyed words and studied art, 
 With stories old of love forever new. 
 My latest lover comes from far to woo, 
 
 And, laying siege to my proud woman's heart. 
 
 Pierces its armor strong with many a dart, — 
 Can all the wondrous tale he tells be true? 
 His earnest accents all my doubts subdue. 
 
 His boldness bids each maiden fear depart. 
 
 As royal prince he takes by right divine 
 What other men have sought with prayers and 
 tears, 
 
 While one heart, hopeless, did not dare aspire ; 
 Or as explorer bold with sure design. 
 He heeds not frowning rocks nor freezing fears. 
 
 Until he gains the land of his desire. 
 
 37 
 
THE NEW AND THE OLD, 
 11. 
 
 But visions sweet of olden days arise ; 
 
 Once more I see, by time made doubly dear, 
 A strong, fair youth. True love's expression 
 clear, 
 
 That knows no counterfeit, is in his eyes 
 
 Whose look is a caress. Him, boyish-wise, 
 I see confused to mark me coming near. 
 But timid take my hand with words sincere, 
 
 Untaught to woo, yet innocent of lies. 
 
 His passion strong he has not learned to hide, 
 But ever speaks my name with trembling voice — 
 
 His lips fast quivering with the love untold. 
 Remembering thus, how, then, can I decide ? 
 Ah! happy heart, that needs not make a choice, 
 
 Since they are one, the new love and the old. 
 
 38 
 
TWO LULLABIES. 
 
 The mother holds the child on her knees, 
 
 While the dreamy twilight draweth nigh; 
 Her song is borne on the evening breeze, 
 While she coos this lullaby : 
 "Safe, safe and warm, 
 Safe from all harm. 
 Close, closer pressed 
 On mother's breast, — 
 Mother will watch over her wee birdie's nest." 
 
 The old man leans on his mother's breast — 
 Dear Mother Earth's, where all must lie ; 
 Her singing soothes his soul to rest, 
 As she croons this lullaby: 
 "Now safe at last 
 The danger all past, 
 Your fears have fled, 
 Your tears are all shed, — 
 Mother will shield her weary child's bed.'* 
 
 39 
 
THE PRAYER OF THE WOMAN. 
 
 O P'since of all the maiden dreams 
 That gild my path with sunny gleams. 
 
 Wherever you may be, 
 (Perchance I have not seen your face 
 Nor shall behold your youthful grace.) 
 
 I pray you earnestly: 
 
 Be good, my Prince, e'en though 
 
 You be not good to me. 
 
 O Lord of my great woman's soul. 
 Whose wishes all my life control, 
 
 Though you I do not see, 
 (Among so many that deceive 
 Yet in one heart I must believe.) 
 
 I pray you fervently: 
 
 Be true, my Lord, although 
 
 You be not true to me. 
 
 O Knight of this proud Lady's heart 
 That yields but once to Cupid's dart. 
 
 Let no temptation lure; 
 Tis not enough to right the wrong 
 And do great deeds that live in song; 
 
 Still make this purpose sure: 
 
 Be pure, be pure, be pure — 
 
 O everywhere be purei 
 
 40 
 
THE CRIMSON AND THE GRAY. 
 
 Youth proffered both. I joyous cried: 
 
 "O Crimson bright, forever may 
 Thy beauty cheer me far and wide !" 
 The gloomy hue I threw aside. 
 What cared I then for gray? 
 
 Ah ! long, long years have flown away. 
 
 The shadows to the east are turned ; 
 But toiling up grief's rugged way 
 Or basking in joy's warmest ray 
 One lesson I have learned: 
 
 That all we know and all that is 
 
 Our lot upon life's chequered way, — 
 Our hope, our fear, our pain, our bliss- 
 That life itself consists of this, 
 The crimson and the gray. 
 
 41 
 
THE CRIMSON AND THE GRAY. 
 
 The red, red rose, abloom on earth, 
 
 With gloomy, lowering sky overhead; 
 The rosy night of wine and mirth 
 To vain regret's gray dawn gives birth. 
 When warmth and cheer have fled. 
 
 Warm, glowing love, more prized than gold. 
 Burns bright, burns red, despairs and dies. 
 The old pathetic tale is told — 
 The ashes gray of love grown cold 
 Show where the dead heart lies. 
 
 The long, dull day of toil is blest 
 
 With peace and beauty at the last; 
 For sunset's glow will bring sweet rest 
 And drive us to our dear warm nest, 
 When day and toil are past. 
 
 42 
 
THE WAY OF LOVE. 
 
 {Two Sonnets.) 
 I. 
 
 They wandered by the river's constant flow; 
 The patient meadows hosts of daisies bore, 
 The wide skies smiled on Space's star-strewn 
 floor 
 
 The while he told his love with ardent glow. 
 
 And with a ring he pledged, for weal or woe. 
 His life, his all. And many vows they swore 
 To love and trust till streams should run no 
 more. 
 
 Till skies should fade and winds no longer blow. 
 
 To-day one stands upon the self-same spot, 
 The steady stream flows seaward as of old. 
 
 And daisies still gaze upward to the skies; 
 The old glad days are dead and long forgot. 
 And naught remains beside the ring of gold 
 
 To tell the tale of love that blooms and dies. 
 
 43 
 
[THE WAY OF LOVE. 
 11. 
 
 Another olden scene now fills my sight ; 
 
 Low trees and clinging vines caress the eaves, 
 While moonlight falls upon magnolia leaves 
 
 That gleam like silvery waves, and queenly Night 
 
 Wears on her breast Orion's jewels bright, 
 Two lovers sit in silence sweet; he weaves 
 No tale of passion wild, for deep love heaves 
 
 Their happy breasts and fills their eyes with light. 
 
 And now this twain abide on distant shore, J 
 And many moons and stars have risen and set. 
 
 While Fate has marked their hearts with many 
 scars ; 
 And yet I know, full well, that nevermore 
 Will either heart cease grieving, or forget 
 
 That moonlight night, the silence and the stars. 
 
 44 
 
THE HOUSE ON THE SAND. 
 
 A woman loved with love that ne'er could cease, 
 
 But soon her vain, unhappy love bewailed ; 
 
 For he was false. — Ah ! what hath yet availed 
 To keep the heart that changes oft with ease? 
 Then on her mother's breast she sought release 
 
 From that great grief which o'er her heart pre- 
 vailed, 
 
 And in that love — one love that never failed — 
 She found sweet strength and everlasting peace. 
 
 Poor heart ! that built her palace on the sand, 
 That had no other place whereon to rear 
 
 Her wondrous house of love and hope and 
 mirth ; 
 Then seeing no fixed thing in all the land 
 And naught but desolation far and near. 
 
 Did weep with joy to feel the solid earth ! 
 
 45 
 
IN AN OLD ITALIAN GARDEN. 
 
 In an old Italian garden fair we were sitting, 
 The stately palm trees trembled and whispered 
 o'erhead, 
 And ours were the moments of bliss so sweet and 
 so flitting; 
 The future unknown, the past forgot and 
 dead. 
 
 From dark, azure skies the summer moon was 
 gleaming. 
 The singing fountain on high bright jewels 
 flung, 
 Yet darker, yea brighter, too, were his black eyes 
 beaming, 
 As he spake of love in the golden Italian 
 tongue. 
 
 "Mia carissima," came the words full of sighing, 
 And trembling fast he whispered: "I love 
 thee alone; 
 Wilt thou be mine ?" And my hands in his were 
 lying, 
 "Mia carissima, mine own, mine own." 
 
 46 
 
IN AN OLD ITALIAN GARDEN. 
 
 Now days full of toil, and nights devoid of sweet 
 sleeping, 
 And common cares make up my commonplace 
 life; 
 With small time for joy and less for quiet weep- 
 ing, 
 I fill my little place in the great world's strife. 
 
 But to-night the moon shines fair and white 
 through the gloaming, 
 
 Alone am I on a far-away western shore ; 
 Like an old dream are many days of my roaming, 
 
 But that night of love is mine forevermore. 
 
 "Mia carissima," the words are still ringing, 
 The palm trees tremble again at the olden tone ; 
 
 "Mia carissima," the fountain is still singing, 
 "Mia carissima, I love thee alone." 
 
 47 
 
TO A FRIEND. 
 
 I cried when parting some ten years ago: 
 
 "The red, red rose succeeds the dais^ pale ; 
 
 And e'en the morning star must fade and fail 
 Before the day-king's coming, sure though slow ; 
 
 So shall a greater love be ours, and lo, 
 Regret and tears shall be of ho avail; 
 For like the mem'ry of a fairy tale. 
 
 Shall be the friendship sweet we treasured so/' 
 
 But yesterday I walked the well-known ways. 
 Where every tree and vine and grass-blade 
 
 green 
 Was eloquent of pleasures that had been. 
 I heard a precious voice of other days 
 That asked: "Hath greater love made thee 
 
 forget?" 
 And all my soul replied: "Not yet, not yet." 
 
 48 
 
THE TREE OF GOLD. 
 
 Oh! a tree of gold by my threshold stands 
 With a thousand thousand leaves so fair; 
 
 They tremble and quiver and wave their hands 
 At the lightest touch of the gentle air. 
 
 All day they v^hisper of love, perchance, 
 As the winds their airy forms embrace; 
 
 While the sunshine kisses them as they dance 
 And the glory lights my face. 
 
 And a slender tower of ivy green 
 
 Stands tall and dark against the gold; 
 
 While the blue, blue sky o'erhead is seen, 
 Though ever changing, the same as of old. 
 
 O ivy, green till thy heart is dead ! 
 O heart of mine, that can never die! 
 
 What shall we do when the gold has fled. 
 And the blue has left the sky? 
 
 Yet one more day and the leaves are gone, 
 And the limbs will stand all bare and brown; 
 
 Yet one more day and summer has flown 
 And the queen will lose her golden crown. 
 
 Since the life of love is but a day, 
 And love from life must one day part; 
 
 For the leaves and for my love I pray 
 Yet one day more, my heart ! 
 
 49 
 
TO DOMIDUCA. 
 
 O goddess fair! who guides o'er hill and lea 
 The wanderer's footsteps home; dear mother 
 
 mild, — 
 Who led me home each night, a little child, 
 
 Though far and oft I strayed in childish glee — 
 
 Lo! I have journeyed far on land and sea 
 Through dangers manifold and waters wild, 
 Yet on my safe home-coming thou hast smiled ; 
 
 Thy grateful child here renders praise to thee. 
 
 Behold me on life's longer journey now. 
 Where I must go alone and find my way 
 
 Along the road no foot of man has passed. 
 Bend, bend in love, and touch my anxious brow ; 
 For I would fain not walk in doubt astray, 
 
 O Domiduca, lead me home at last! 
 
 50 
 
ON THE UNVEILING OF THE MECK- 
 LENBURG MONUMENT. 
 
 May 20th, i8p8. 
 
 The century ends, the curtain falls, 
 While plaudits shake surrounding walls; 
 
 A heavenward-rising shaft appears, 
 With hosts of joyful pilgrims round 
 
 The fairest scene of all the years 
 With fairest deed is crowned. 
 
 Sweet self-approval's silent voice 
 
 And strangers' praise our souls rejoice; 
 
 The Veil, that hides the Unseen, parts, 
 Our fathers' forms rise one by one; 
 
 While louder, deeper to our hearts 
 Resounds their glad "well done!" 
 
 Oh, we have yearned and planned and wrought 
 To make our deeds fulfill our thought. 
 
 Now Freedom, Justice, Peace, Content, 
 And Plenty reign from hill to coast; 
 
 Here Art, here Science spreads her tent, — 
 And yet we may not boast. 
 
 51 
 
ON THE UNVEILING OF A MONUMENT. 
 
 One hundred years and more agone, 
 A grander picture here was shown ; 
 
 A little band of patriots true 
 Oppressed by giant foreign power, 
 
 Declared their Freedom, — daring few! — 
 And pledged their lives that hour. 
 
 With greatest men they rank as peers. 
 In Freedom's march were pioneers; 
 
 No braver knights deserve men's praise, 
 No martyr's requiem rings more clear; 
 
 Like heroes bold in fabled days, 
 They scorned the dragon Fear. 
 
 For others' good they nobly wrought. 
 For unborn children's peace they fought. 
 
 They are not dead, they live and move 
 And in our complex lives hold sway; 
 
 Their spirit free, their faith and love 
 We celebrate to-day. 
 
 The spirit true of Freedom fair 
 
 Fills every swelling heart with prayer. 
 
 O God of Freedom, keep us now. 
 Who yield our wills to thee alone. 
 
 In silence eloquent we bow 
 Before thine awful throne. 
 
 §2 
 
ON THE UNVEILING OF A MONUMENT. 
 
 A thousand creeds, a thousand ways, 
 Fill up our brief, distracted days. 
 
 Give us to know our fathers' God, 
 Who holds the future as the past. 
 
 To walk the simple path they trod 
 And sleep with them at last. 
 
 53 
 
THE MAIDEN FROM THE FAR COUN- 
 TRY. 
 
 (From the German of Schiller.) 
 
 Every spring-time in a valley, 
 Came to shepherds dwelling there. 
 
 When the larks bid songbirds rally 
 A maiden wonderful and fair. 
 
 Not in that vale was she begotten 
 And whence she came no man could say ; 
 
 Yet straight all vestige was forgotten 
 Soon as the fair one went away. 
 
 Blest were they who lingered near her 
 And every heart upbounded, great ; 
 
 Yet young and old could still but fear her, 
 So dignified and so sedate. 
 
 Brought she fruits and fairest flowers, 
 Which far in other fields did grow, 
 
 Bedewed with softer, kindlier showers 
 And kissed by warmer sunlight's glow. 
 
 54 
 
THE MAIDEN FROM THE FAR COUNTRY. 
 
 On each the maid bestowed a present ; 
 
 On some fresh fruits, on others flowers, 
 Till each youth, each tottering peasant. 
 
 Went home to spend delightful hours. 
 
 Thrice welcome there was every comer. 
 Yet to one pair within her call 
 
 She kindly gave e'er came the summer, 
 The sweetest, fairest flower of all. 
 
 55 
 
FAUSTINA. 
 
 I gaze adown the stately corridor 
 
 Where stands a line of earth's most honored 
 
 dead, 
 Marbled — assured of immortality. 
 Here is the orator, with golden tongue 
 And heart of gold, who moved great multitudes, 
 As summer's wind moves waving fields of grain ; 
 And there, the poet crowned with laurel wreath. 
 And sceptred with the love of many men. 
 Whose hearts his songs have touched to music's 
 
 beat. 
 The calm, broad brow of the philosopher; 
 The high and mighty gaze and haughty head 
 Of emperors divine of all the world ; 
 And one with slanting brow and sensual lips 
 Whose name is a reproach in every tongue. 
 I see the placid features and the look 
 Of calm content of one who held the world 
 But as a play wherein he had no part. 
 For he was far above the fleeting show. 
 
 56 
 
FAUSTINA. 
 
 Among these images one face looks out, 
 
 An eager, upturned face that seems inclined 
 
 To speak and smile to every passer-by. 
 
 With dazzled eyes, a smile upon my lips 
 
 I stand, transformed to marble, worshipping ; 
 
 For oh ! it is Faustina the Divine, 
 
 The wonder of the world, supremely fair ! 
 
 What other woman ever had so fine. 
 
 So delicate a profile, or so sweet? 
 
 Her waving hair flows backward from a brow 
 
 That never could have frowned or been less glad. 
 
 From shapely neck uprears a dainty head — 
 
 A capital upon its Grecian column. 
 
 How softly melts the cheek into the throat! 
 
 How oft the sculptor must have kissed that 
 
 curve ! 
 Though all so cold, I could caress it now. 
 
 I gaze adown the corridor of time. 
 And all these marble beings live and breathe. 
 They are not dead, the centuries are dead, 
 That have divided this from olden times. 
 The ages are forgot, the years swept back 
 Like flimsy scenery from the stage of life. 
 And I can see these great ones at their tasks, 
 And at their play, each in his separate turn 
 
 57 
 
FAUSTINA, 
 
 Sustaining his own part with faithfulness. 
 But she was only fair, 'tis all we know; 
 I do not care to hear that she was good ; 
 It is enough to see that she was fair. 
 The best, the greatest, wisest of mankind, 
 Although all Rome did doubt, the world deride, 
 He yet believed her gold; he knew her best. 
 And so her fadeless beauty conquers all ; 
 The wit, the wisdom and the power of kings 
 Are all as naught unto my captured eye. 
 They fade, they melt away ; there still remains 
 That wonder-woman with the angel-face! 
 
 58 
 
WHITE BUTTERFLIES. 
 
 This morn I see where sunlight lies, 
 Among my morning-glories, 
 
 A host of snow-white butterflies, 
 Like fays in fairy stories. 
 
 White butterflies, white butterflies, 
 How careless is their motion ! 
 
 Now dancing free, they fall and rise 
 Like white-caps on the ocean. 
 
 A shower of apple-blossoms sweet. 
 
 In fickle April weather, 
 Ne'er seemed to speak of joy complete 
 
 As these white wings together. 
 
 Are they the souls of my dead flowers 
 That bloomed within this garden? 
 
 Of blossoms rare from foreign bowers 
 That knew me not as warden? 
 
 59 
 
WHITE BUTTERFLIES. 
 
 Are these the ghosts of daisies bright, 
 
 I gathered with my lover? 
 That early love, all pure and white. 
 
 May angels 'round him hover! 
 
 Ah! there's the pink that came to life 
 
 Within the garden olden, 
 Of Shakespeare's gentle sweetheart-wife. 
 
 So rich with memories golden ! 
 
 And now the violet comes to mind 
 
 I plucked with tender feeling, 
 From Shelley's grave, where grief doth find, 
 
 In that sweet spot, sweet healing. 
 
 Is this the rose that lay one night 
 
 Upon the death-cold maiden? 
 Did that adorn the bride in white 
 
 With love and flowers laden? 
 
 White butterflies, white butterflies. 
 
 How careless is their motion! 
 Still dancing free they fall and rise 
 
 Like white-caps on the ocean; 
 
 60 
 
WHITE BUTTERFLIES. 
 
 Till my dead joys on wings arise. 
 And shame all fairy-stories, 
 
 And live and bloom in butterflies 
 Among my morning-glories. 
 
 ^ 
 
FROM LOOKOUT HILL. 
 
 Serene and fair and sweet the valley lies 
 Outspread in peace beneath our loving gaze. 
 There runs the changeless river as of old 
 With many a curve of beauty in its course, 
 As if an artist's master-hand had drawn 
 A line of silver on a green background. 
 Upon the meadow's breast the Indian pink 
 Burns bright and red and shames the Autumn 
 
 sun. 
 From valleys low to woodland heights afar 
 There stretches out a field of red-brown earth, 
 The while the tender sky bends down in love. 
 And over all a fine pale mist is drawn, 
 That, like a painter's brush, now blends these 
 
 hues, 
 Till all the sharp contrasts are softened down. 
 The evening breeze steals up to kiss my face 
 And murmurs of the night which follows all. 
 
 Here let us rest, O thou, my best beloved. 
 Take thou my hand and let it lie in thine. 
 
 62 
 
FROM LOOKOUT HILL. 
 
 See how the smoke curls upward from yon cot 
 Where Love is king and Peace his gentle queen ; 
 Where only shouts of happy little ones 
 Disturb the tranquil evening atmosphere, 
 While distant cow-bells' silvery tinkling faint 
 Suggests the mad brook's happy tremolo. 
 How changed the scene some forty years ago! 
 A band of wild-eyed, haunted men stood here 
 And watched the dwindling road for many a 
 
 mile, 
 As though expectant, both by night and day. 
 And when they saw the conscript officers, 
 And heard the dreaded hoof-beats on the road. 
 Towards their lair they fled like frightened 
 
 beasts. 
 And scrambling headlong down the rocky bluff, 
 They braved the stream and straightway swam 
 
 across 
 To gain the thickets on the other shore. 
 At times a rifle-shot rang out ; and then 
 One hunted man, perchance, no longer feared. 
 
 Here Indians lived a fierce and cruel life 
 And waged eternal war on other tribes; 
 Or slaughtered men as beasts, and beasts as men. 
 The white man came. Then dying women's 
 screams 
 
 63 
 
FROM LOOKOUT HILL, 
 
 And little children's cries were melody 
 To them and theirs, and blazing homes 
 Made incense sweet unto their God of Hate. 
 A hostile army came from foreign shores 
 And once swept through this valley like a 
 
 scourge, 
 With Death and Terror stalking in their train. 
 Then came the remnant of a shattered band, 
 Worn out and crushed and bleeding, as they 
 
 dragged 
 Their heavy feet unto their ruined homes. 
 
 But wherefore now have these things been, dear 
 
 heart ? 
 That you and I might sit at eve in peace, 
 (Here where our fathers lived and toiled and 
 
 died) 
 And look with love upon this tender spot 
 Whose breast has raised our sainted ancestors 
 From olden times until this happy day? 
 Nay, not for this alone ! For I can see 
 Glad men and women in the years to come, 
 With little children running on before. 
 Approach this lovely Hill at eventide, 
 And gaze upon the same enchanting scene. 
 
 64 
 
FROM LOOKOUT HILL. 
 
 So when the darkness deepens and we go 
 Upward and onward, to the starht place, 
 It will be sweet to think that other hearts 
 Will still be glad in this dear home of ours. 
 And let us trust that none will ever be 
 Less happy here than we this golden eve. 
 But, hark ! the bells are silent ; and the night, 
 The bride of Death, is coming; let us go. 
 
 6s 
 
THE PRINCE AND THE FOOL. 
 
 A fool there was in the olden time. 
 
 In the castle of a king, 
 On a rocky steep in a far-off clime 
 
 Where it was always Spring. 
 
 There knights were always brave and strong, 
 
 And all their ladies fair; 
 And men would die for a kiss, or a song, 
 
 Or a lock of silken hair. 
 
 The fool was taking a stroll one day. 
 
 In the garden of the king, 
 When he found by chance beside his way 
 
 A wonderful pearl in a ring. 
 
 "So!" said the fool: "Here's a trinket bright!" 
 
 And he gave the ring a twirl ; 
 "I will wear this shining thing to-night, 
 
 And make them think it a pearl." 
 
 L.ofC. 66 
 
THE PRINCE AND THE FOOL. 
 
 The fool that night was witty and gay, 
 
 His bells and his head awhirl, 
 And all men laughed at the things he did say, 
 
 But no one noticed the pearl. 
 
 So he cast it off and it lay unseen. 
 
 The fool 1 he did not know. 
 And it lay for years where it once had been. 
 
 While the crowds passed to and fro. 
 
 A prince there was in that golden time, 
 
 And he found the pearl at last! 
 Then his face grew glad with a joy sublime. 
 
 And all his sadness passed. 
 
 He knew and prized its wonderful worth, — 
 A prince, ah ! none can deceive — 
 
 And never more on the great round earth 
 Would he that jewel leave. 
 
 So he wore it above his royal Heart, 
 In the presence of lord and earl; 
 
 And the people said as they fell apart: 
 " Tis truly a princely pearl." 
 
 67 
 
THE PRINCE AND THE FOOL. 
 
 Ah! the knights are dead and their ladies true. 
 And their swords are eaten with rust; 
 
 And the castle and king and courtiers, too. 
 Are crumbled and less than dust. 
 
 But the prince and the pearl lie side by side 
 
 Within a minster old, 
 And all that's left of their beauty and pride, 
 
 Is the simple tale here told. 
 
 The end of the fool? Ah, who shall say? 
 
 In sooth, how could we know? 
 For oh ! it happened so far away, 
 
 And it happened so long ago. 
 
 6S 
 
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