y Class Book. ) ^^J Copyright }1^ COPYRIGHT DEPOSIT. ONE WISH ONE WISH AND OTHER POEMS OF LOVE AND LIFE By SARA BEAUMONT KENNEDY £H/ INDIANAPOLIS THE BOBBS-MERRILL COMPANY PUBLISHERS Copyright 1915 The Bobbs-Merrill Company ^6^;^6^ PRES8 OF BRAUNWORTH & CO. BOOKBINDERS AND PRINTERS BROOKLYN, N. Y. AUG -9 1915 ©Ci,A411006 ) TO THE MEMORY OF Walker Kennedy and Katherine Hobson, my husband and niece, whose fineness of perception and purity of vision never failed to inspire me, this book is dedicated. S. B. K. CONTENTS PAGE All Souls 84 Anniversaries 88 Bon Voyage 74 Comrades Three 64 Content 90 Day After Day 68 Day's End 1^ Failure 31 Fate's Trinity 79 Going Home . 16 Hills of God, The 78 Hundred Years, A . . . • • • .26 Influence Is Responsibility 23 Let Your Women Keep Silence . . . .32 Little Things, The 57 Lovers' Lane ........ 72 Master's Toll, The 82 My Prayer .36 My Song 54 Ninth Hour, The 62 Old Songs 18 O Little Feet 38 One Day 48 CONTENTS— Continuecf PAGE One Wish 15 On the Trail 43 Rainbow's End 70 Red Roses . . .52 Ship o' Dreams . . 50 Solstices, The 47 Somewhere, Some Day 34 Song 75 Stranded 28 Sweetest Eyes 86 Three Singers .40 Tired 60 Unanswered . 85 Waiting 20 Wander- Way, The 80 What Then ? 67 Writing in the Sand, The 44 Yesterday . . .58 Your Hands 24 ONE WISH ONE WISH If I might have in all the scope of life One wish-come-true, Just one, and nothing more through all the years That Sorrow shrives and Hope endears, 'Twould be for you. If I might have just one short prayer that found Its way to grace And won an answer from fate's high decree. That prayer, O best beloved one, would be To see your face. That wish-come-true and that one answered prayer. Whatever betide, Would be the hostage of my faith in God, And though the hot plow-shares of life I trod I would be satisfied. IS GOING HOME When I went home to you, though rough and steep The way, I never stopped to care; The end was rose-hued with the light of love, Knowing you waited there. I could not run too fast, O heart of mine, When I went home to you. When I went home to you, no matter what The hours had held of toil or grief or fret Was left outside the opened door — The pure, sweet smile of you made me forget Life's burden and its bitter weariness, When I went home to you. 16 GOING HOME 17 For in your calm and brave serenity There was no room for faith's unrest ; You reached a hand of hope and helpfulness Into the darkest shadows that oppressed. I seemed to walk straight into God's white light When I went home to you. But, ah ! when I go home and find you not I can not leave behind the old despair; It dogs my steps up to the close-shut door, Inside of which there waits your empty chair, And all of life's deep bitterness comes back When I go home and find you not. When I go home and know you are not there The smoothest path is rough and hard ; I hate the window where your light once burned. ( I wish to God it were forever barred ! ) The whole house seems a charnel place of joy When I go home and know you are not there. OLD SONGS A-down the years they come to me From out the crypts of time, With half-forgotten melody And faintly failing rhyme; With here and there a broken chord, A missing word or phrase. But sweet as angel whispers are — The songs of by-gone days. A snatch of college drinking song, A verse of cradle hymn, A bar of tender serenade. Sung when the stars were dim- — 18 OLD SONGS 19 The truant strains they come and go Like sparks in smoky haze, A tangle of sweet memories — The songs of by-gone days. And as the measures float along, Like shadows o'er the sea, Across the bloom and drift of years Lost faces smile on me ; Eyes dimmed in death's eternal night Meet mine in love's long gaze, I kiss the marble lips that sang Those songs of by-gone days. Old tunes touch hidden chords in hearts Long mute with age or pain. And give us for a fleeting space Lost faith and hope again. Within yon Cloudland's Far- Away Where swell the hymns of praise God grant the angels sometimes sing The songs of by-gone days. WAITING And so we have come back again Through wreckage of dark nights and days, Back to the parting of the ways, Back to the milestone of lost dreams. And in our emptied hearts we bring No sun-lit joy for hopes achieved, No gratitude for grief reprieved, No suaging sense of faith fulfilled. Instead, turn wheresoe'er we may, There haunts us like a lost despair The ghost of an unanswered prayer — The one dear thing we asked of God. 20 WAITING 21 They who expound the Gospel say : "Ye have not asked the thing ye should." How can we choose? How know the good Is not the thing we want the most ? Christ made no bargain save for faith — "Believe, and ask but in my name." When we do this where lies the blame That we come empty-hearted to the end? We can not understand. We trust That somewhere God's high purpose waits To solve the problem of life's hates And loves and free-born destinies — We only know that since our prayers Come back unanswered of His grace We must, of our own courage, face The whips of fate, nor whine nor yield. 22 WAITING For this is self-respect. And while We hold to this we can not lose Our better nature, though God should refuse To keep His promise of an answered prayer. And so, with steadfast faith, but in ourselves. We have come back through darkened days, Back to the parting of the ways To wait beside the milestone of lost dreams. INFLUENCE IS RESPONSIBILITY Thou canst not stand aloof and wait For peaceful aftermath Lest thy indifference prove a snare In some poor toiler's path. If so thy feet have reached the heights Built upward toward the day, The torch within thy lifted hand Lights all the downward way. And if its guiding spark be quenched In tears of selfish dole, One day thy God may ask of thee Thy weaker sister's soul. 23 YOUR HANDS So weak and impotent they seem, Your two small, tired hands; So little might they grasp, and yet So many tasks for them were set, So many tangled strands. So idle once and prone to ease, So cared for and so white. Now, scarred with burdens duty spread And with the battle waged for bread. They wait the coming night. 24 YOUR HANDS 25 When at the last the Master's voice Speaks its Divine commands And asks the record of your work — Or did you strive or did you shirk — Just show Him your two hands. And He your service or your sloth Will read in scar and line; He'll know whence all the roughness came — Witness of help or stamp of shame, Or love's clear counter-sign. Invisible to human eyes May be the secret scroll, But naught the Master's will withstands, And by the witness of your hands He'll one day judge your soul. A HUNDRED YEARS A hundred years from now, dear heart, They say we will not care For suns that scorch or winds that wreck, Or burdens we must bear. A hundred years from now the rose Of love will wilted lie. And asphodels of endless death Will signal to the sky. 26 ^. HUNDRED YEARS 27 A hundred years from now, dear heart, They say the tears we shed Will be forgot, the hot, salt tears That could not wake our dead. A hundred years, the vibrant song That hope sang to the stars Will be a silence of the soul, A stillness nothing mars. A hundred years — What then? A void, A deep abysmal gloom? Or radiant vistas, music-sweet. Of life and love and bloom? A hundred years ! We may not care E'en as the wise ones say; But God ! Those crawling hundred years Ere we outlive To-day ! STRANDED It lies in shallows, half a-shore, A-swing beyond the billows' play, A warped, deserted, battered hulk That has sailed out its little day. To what far ports it took its flight, What sails gleamed at its broken mast, What costly cargoes piled its decks, What pilot steered it home at last 28 STRANDED 29 We may not know ; just only this : It served its purpose out and now It lies brown-ribbed upon the sand With gaping seams and rotting prow. But lying thus, we know it waits For some storm-ridden, moonless night When lifted clear of rock and reef 'Twill put to sea without a light. And free and far for one fierce hour 'Twill breast the deep it roamed of yore, Then from the crest of some high wave Go down to sail no more, no more ! But ere it sinks it will have known Once more the thrill of outward reach, And better that one teeming hour Than stagnant years upon the beach ! 30 STRANDED And there are souls that, stranded, wait For flood-tide help to break away From shallow sloughs and sunken rocks, And seek the ports of Outer Day. 'Mid stress of storm and racing wind That whitens all the sea with foam, Some day they'll hear the Pilot's call And see the harbor lights of Home. But stranded men, like stranded ships. Die better for an hour of strife — One strong up-lift, one victory cry. One challenge flung to love and life. FAILURE To strive and not succeed, yet still have strength To stifle back the moan and chide the pain, And rise once more and bravely seek to trace A new foothold among life's broken shards Which pierce us with regret — That is not failure, but the soul's high test, That is to grow toward God in grace, Yea, to be born again. But, oh ! to miss the goal, and to sink down With shaking hands beside the upward trail, Too spent to lift again life's weary load. Too numb to find a light, or in the dark a sign, Or in the heart a hope — That is to drink of Marah's bitter cup. That is to feel fate's biting goad, That is at last to fail. 31 LET YOUR WOMEN KEEP SILENCE I Corinthians 14:34 And who laid on her this silence, Some one who had never abhorred The Beautiful Teacher of Wisdom? Nay, one who had mocked at his Lord — One who hounded with threatenings Disciples who worked out His will, One who "breathed slaughter" against them— He said : "Let a woman keep still." 32 LET YOUR WOMEN KEEP SILENCE 33 She may not speak in your temples, It is not "seemly" nor right? — And yet 'tis her faith that through ages Has kept its clear tapers a-light. For man had gone back to the savage, Forgetting the soul and its need, Yea, lapsed to the club and the cave-house Had woman not held to her creed. White-souled as the radiant lilies That bloom in the muck of the sod, She may not speak in your temples — Yet a woman was mother of God ! SOMEWHERE, SOME DAY Somewhere, some day, nor time nor place Our hearts may set, Although the longing stifles us And eyes grow wet — Somewhere, some day, in lush of bloom Or drift of snow, In dusk of dark lit by dim stars. In noon's white glow — 34 SOMEWHERE, SOME DAY 35 The things we hoped but dared not speak The long years through, The dearest dreams that haunt our hearts Will all come true. I can not tell why I believe; By subtle sign I know we'll walk the sun-lit hills, Your hand in mine. I can not see where those hills lift Their verdant way, But, ah ! I know we'll find the heights Somewhere, some day. And there we'll gather up our dreams And count them o'er; Your whispering lips close at my ear Forever more. MY PRAYER I do not trouble God with small requests, I earn, not ask my daily bread; 'Tis for my toiling hands to keep The sheltering roof above my head — I do not weary God with such behests. For if each day I am to beg and whine About His knees for food and drink, Why did He give me strength and skill, Why have I power to plan and think — Why am I different from the browsing kine? 36 MY PRAYER 37 When He placed me erect and taught me speech, When He gave me a hand and not a claw, He therewith, and for ages, laid Upon my soul the steadfast law Of self-dependence and of onward reach. And so I do not trouble Him with small requests, Begging each day a crust of bread, Waiting for Him, by miracle. To keep the roof-tree o'er my head — I do not weary God with such behests. And yet I pray. Yea, in my heart is one unceasing prayer And on my lips a never-dying song — That God will teach me how to make My daily choice 'twixt right and wrong That I may play life's game, and play it fair ! O LITTLE FEET O little feet, O little feet That ran so swift and gay A-down the road to Happiness When hope was in its May — O little feet that never tired, Each milestone was a friend That lured you down the path to where Love waited at the end ! O little feet, O little feet. How slowly you came back Along the road from Happiness, How rough and hard the track ! Your dancing step you have forgot, Each stone and thorn you find, You limp where once you stepped so light. For love is left behind. 38 LITTLE FEET 39 O little feet, O little feet, You've learned the heart-break song — The road to Happiness is short, The backward trail is long ! The milestones that with beckoning hand Cheered all the onward way- Like specters haunt the silent lane That leads from Arcady ! THREE SINGERS In the years' white dawn three singers came Out of the mists of time, And touched their harps 'neath her window high And sang her a golden rhyme. Sang, as she waited behind the pane In a rift of sun or ripple of rain. For the fateful thing that should be a sign ; While her fingers plucked at the twisted vine. 40 THREE SINGERS 41 One Singer was Wealth, and jewels gleamed As he struck his twanging strings; And he chanted the amber wine of joy And the pleasure its quaffing brings. And she leaned to see where the trail would run, And saw the shadow spread over the sun When the gold had melted some far, sad day ; And she flung him a leaf, and turned away. One Singer was Fame, and place and power And plaudits and peans of praise He promised her if she'd follow him Far out of the valley's maze. And she leaned to look where the pathway shone, And she saw she must travel it all alone So narrow it was and cramped and low \ And she flung him a thorn, and let him go. 42 THREE SINGERS One Singer was Love, and his voice w^as sweet As wind blown out of the South. No fame he offered, no lure of gold; But a kiss for her warm, red mouth. And she leaned to glimpse where the path ran through. And she saw there was room a-plenty for two — For two to walk and never to part ; And she flung him a rose, and the rose was her heart ! ON THE TRAIL Choose him alone to be thy guide Who has gone further on the road, Who knows its pitfalls and has borne In stress of pain its bitter load. He will not let thee miss the way Though paths divide and clouds be gray. Let him thy mentor be whose soul Has known the passion of despair; Whose eyes have watched an empty trail Through nights of gloom and days of care. His quickened vision will be keen To see life's shadow 'neath its sheen. To learn forgiveness look to him Who has been wronged in word and deed, Whose heart has ached with trust betrayed, Yet faltered not in love's high creed; He only can thy master be To climb w^hite heights of charity. 43 THE WRITING IN THE SAND They dragged her to the Master's feet Abashed with shame and numb with dread. "We know the law that Moses wrote, But judge you her," the fierce mob said. She stood deserted and abhorred, The world-wide type of such as she, While in safe haunts and pleasant ways The partner of her guilt went free. 44 THE WRITING IN THE SAND 45 In her scared eyes the wonder grew That she alone the shame must know, Yet dumb she waited, breast a-heave. To feel the mob's first stinging blow. Then Jesus said : "The sinless one May cast the stone that's in his hand." And while the conscience-stricken mob dispersed He stooped and wrote upon the sand. Wrote on the sand the mystic line The probing ages fain would scan; Perchance the wondering woman read The letters dim : "Where is the man?" The woman climbs her Calvary here. Outlawed and scorned and set aside; Each day, with sneer of good and bad. Her spirit is re-crucified ; 46 THE WRITING IN THE SAND The while the man, more scarlet far Since he was tempter to her soul, Goes down the sunny side of life Unhindered of his dearest goal. Yet who may say he shall escape? When life has run its little span He'll read that writing in the dust And, trembling, say: "I am the man." THE SOLSTICES It does not always fall in June — The longest day of all the year, Which in the calends doth appear Set down by rule inviolate As more of sun than moon. But, sweet, for me the longest day, The one that seems to have no end, The blankest time the seasons send — Or red with June or bleached with snow- Is when you are away. And, sweetheart mine, of all the year — Despite December's ancient claim — The shortest day, with heart of flame And flying feet that will not stay. Is when I hold you near. 47 ONE DAY 'Tis said, sweetheart, that in each life There dawns one perfect day; One day so white with touch of love It matters not if skies above Be blue or gray — One day so steeped in peace and dreams That we forget Hearts ever ached, or that with tears That hid the vista of the years Eyes have been wet. 48 ONE DAY 49 Yet some there are who miss that day And blindly go, Nor glimpse the radiance from afar, Nor in the dusk catch one faint star; But, ah, sweetheart, I'll know ! I'll know when o'er the purple hills From crypts of night The first ray creeps, all amber-pale. And downward slips athwart the vale — Translucent light. It may not differ from all days — No more of cloud or clear. But, heart of mine, the blessed light Will give you to my yearning sight. And I shall hold you near. I care not if the sun shall shine Or rains drip silver gray, If snow lies white, or blooms the lea — The time that brings you back to me Shall be my perfect day! SHIP O' DREAMS A white, white sail spread over my ship, As white as a gull's wing gleams ; And it weighed its anchor and slipped away When the years were young and the heart was gay- My beautiful ship o' dreams. 'Twas freighted with love that was ever to last Though faith and friends should fail ; And its prow was set to the golden west Where the sun sinks down in a haven of Rest And the storm-wraiths never wail. 50 SHIP O' DREAMS 51 And far and away it sailed and sailed, Its free, white wings unfurled, Still and forever a-tracking the sun In a shining path where the bright waves run — Run over the rim of the world. But it never came back into port, my ship, Never came back from its quest ; Though I lighted my beacons high up on the trail Its cargo of hope went down in the gale Outside of the haven of Rest. And oft when the day dies down to the dark I look where the sunset streams, And I seem to see, all ghostly and pale, A broken prow and a tattered sail — The wreck o' my ship o' dreams ! RED ROSES FEBRUARY FOURTEEN Roses for my lady fair, Roses red as wine ! They are the heralds that shall say To her upon this love-sweet day She is my valentine! 52 RED ROSES 53 For since the old-time saint was young (Unless the legend errs), When tender words were to be said To just one heart, the roses red Have been love's messengers. Their language is a secret code With cipher planned To spell a tender sweetheart creed, Which lovers' eyes alone may read, And lovers understand. So at St. Valentine's behest This day I choose, To fly as swift as homing dove And bear my lady all my love. The heart of this red rose ! MY SONG I made me a song, and I fared me forth To find who would listen and weep. For I told the sorrowful truths of life — The vigils our souls must keep, The failures that lurk where the path runs rough, The ambushed sorrow that waits. The biting bitter out-tasting the sweet In cup that is brewed of the Fates. 54 MY SONG 55 And my song I sang to a child at play, But he put his hand to his ear: "Oh, I like a tune with a laugh," he cried, "This one has the drip of a tear." A soldier, belted and girded for fight. With his banners flashing on high. Scoffed loud at my lay: "Of glory I dream; What has fame to do with a sigh?" Two lovers who strolled in the faint star-gleam At sound of my voice turned back : "To us the whole world is roseate and gold, Why chant of a shadow that's black?" And I sang my song to a man who toiled In the hellish dark of a mine. But he cursed the strain with a snarling jibe, For he wanted the sweet sunshine. 56 MY SONG Then an aged crone put my rhyme to shame With a shake of her wise, gray head: "I've come to the edge of the grave with grief, Make me laugh as I die," she said. So I tore my sorrowful song to shreds And I cast it out to the wilds. For I'd learned, though the world be eons old, Its heart is as young as a child's. THE LITTLE THINGS God sends us little joys for daily diet — The kindly word, the outstretched hand, The smile our hearts can understand, A song of hope, an hour of quiet. And with them come the little griefs and cares — The broken trysts, the rainy days, The slighting word, the dearth of praise, Each stab that in a heartache shares. And little sacrifices day by day Wait at our doors — the wish suppressed, The yielded place, the fault confessed, Self set aside, love's long delay. These are our hourly gleanings in the strife, These humble flow'rs, so small and trite ; The wonder-blooms of love and pain blow white (Like altar lilies for a solemn rite) But one time in the span of life. 57 YESTERDAY Where runs the road to Yesterday, Does nobody, nobody know? It can't be far, for I traveled it When the sun was sinking low. All of you journeyed the self -same path — Will nobody, nobody tell? Is it by the rocks or over the hills, Or where the white tides swell? It must be near, for I only turned A comer and entered the night, And I slept not long, for my heart was sore For a glimpse of the backward light. 58 YESTERDAY 59 But, oh, somehow I have lost the trail — The foot-worn trail that pilgrims made Journeying up from the Wonderland Facing the east and unafraid. But I must go back, go back, you see ; (Will nobody show me the way?) For I've left my heart and my hope behind In the land of Yesterday. But how may I know the grass-grown path? Where glimmers the mystical line? I scan the far horizon's hem In quest of a hidden sign — But never a guide post points the way And never a milestone shows, And nobody walks the forgotten track, For nobody, nobody knows. TIRED Ah, no ; 'tis not for strength I pray ; Once, long ago, there was a day When all my prayer. Vibrant with pleading, was for power To bear the burden of each hour Nor cry for aid. 60 TIRED 61 It was for silent lips, for eyes unwet, For heart that sought but to forget That I implored — For calm of spirit that should lie As soft as dawn on eastern sky- When night is done. But now I ask for these no more. Here at the Morning's open door I cast my burden down ; I've carried it the long years through, And though each step it heavier grew I stumbled on. Yea, groped and strove, but now for lack Of strength and hope I give it back To you who gave. You carry it, dear Lord, a while, A day's length or a little mile — I am so tired. THE NINTH HOUR GOOD FRIDAY No sea is always calm; no ship Sails out its little day without despair; The flood-tide hides the sunken rocks with peace, The ebbing leaves them bare. Yea, bare and snarling in the foam Tossed in white wreaths up to the deck, And on the quiet sands to-morrow's sun May rise upon a wreck. 62 THE NINTH HOUR 63 No life is always safe; no soul So free and fair but it must know The awful desolation that abides In some "ninth hour" of woe — Some black and bitter time when we lose God And faith and hope and fealty, And in the heart is one accusing cry. "Lama sabachthani !" And yet, does God forsake, or is it we Who can not see or understand? Shall we not find Him where the shadows fall If we put forth a hand? The deepest dark comes just before the day, From storms the brightest stars are born, And that "ninth hour" may but the prelude be Of some fair Easter dawn. COMRADES THREE Nay, not alone When, sunrise signals in the sky And in the hedge the thrush's cry, She took the long, long trail. Three with her walked. Three comrades down each sunny slope, And one was Love, and one was Hope, And one was Faith supreme. 64 COMRADES THREE 65 And life was joy, Until one black and bitter day- Love faltered on the upward way, Faltered and lost the step. And when at last, White-faced as one who bears a load, She took again the onward road. Two only walked with her. Then Hope that erst Had always laughed, or rough or smooth the track. Forgot his song and turned him back, A-whimper for his mate. And though she called He answered not, but stayed to weep And by the side of dead Love keep A vigil through the dark. 66 COMRADES THREE And so but one Came with her to the journey's end, Where sunset banners droop and blend- But one of all the three. For Faith abides, When night's black ensigns fill the sky It puts the crowding shadows by And shows the quiet stars. And yet she knows That somewhere, somehow she will find The Love and Hope she left behind Waiting where ends the road. WHAT THEN? Let us forget, For, like a sharp stiletto turned In gaping wound, is Memory; The old songs and the old sweet loves Stab deep with keenest misery. The thoughts of by-gone days are nails That crucify with bitter woe — Why should we suffer day by day? Why should our lives no respite know? Let us forget ! And yet, and yet, If we should put away the past. Should bury it so deep, so deep That not a wraith of all its days With our sad souls a tryst could keep — If love, with all its tender dreams Should to oblivion succumb — If we indeed forgot, then what For all the empty years to come Would there be left? 67 DAY AFTER DAY JANUARY FIRST It lies before, the year's untrodden road ; How can we journey all its length, How bear the crowding burdens of the way? So small our courage and our strength ! But singing through the silence comes To give us hope, this truth sublime : We do not live the whole long year at once, God sends it one day at a time. 68 DAY AFTER DAY 69 One day for Joy that laughs at care And holds with Love its tender tryst ; One day when every passing hour Is winged with gold and amethyst — One day for grief, when Sorrow sits And brews her bitter cup of pain And croons for us that age-old rune That has a heart-ache for refrain. For each day God has set the stakes Where hot sands scorch or roses blow; Each nightfall finds one journey done, Each eve a respite we shall know. And so, despite the shadow's gloom We take the road with faith sublime, Content to know, though long the year, God sends it one day at a time. RAINBOW'S END Let us play the game of the younger years, The sweet old game of "J^^^ pretend;" Let us steal apart from the Now and Here And hie us away to the rainbow's end. Let us pretend we are back once more On the trail we lost in the long ago, When rose-hued June leaned over the hills And shook her rain on the fields below. 70 RAINBOW'S END 71 Let us pretend that the gray, gray days, Which now we walk with tear-blind eyes, Are filtered through with the seven-hued light That slipped in an arch from the clouded skies. Let us pretend that the bag of gold That's lying there at the rainbow's end Is the love we lost in the faded years Ere ever we needed to ''just pretend." Let us pretend, for 'tis only thus In make-believe we catch the sign Of the "love, love, love!" that the robins sang At the rainbow's end — O heart of mine ! LOVERS' LANE Side by side with the highway of life With only a space between — A space so narrow we reach across And pluck a sprig o' the green — Runs another road, or over the hill Or over the sun-bright plain Or down where the cliffs slip into the sea, And we call it Lovers' Lane. There tall, white lilies forever nod, There the roses blow blood red. And like incarnate spirit of hope A thrush sings high o'erhead. 72 LOVERS' LANE 73 The violets say: "Be true, be true," In passionate, soft refrain; And the sun by day and the steadfast stars Keep watch over Lovers' Lane. And all of us walk at some sweet time There under the arching boughs, And catch the gleam of a crimson rose, The whisper of tender vows. Out of the sordid sorrows of life To castles we built in Spain, We go through the mists of golden dreams By the way of Lovers' Lane. And into the dusk of the after years We take the memory sweet Of the lips we kissed and of vows we heard, And the pulses' quickened beat. The highway of life may be snow-bleached Or sodden of tears and rain, But the roses bloom and the lilies nod Forever in Lovers' Lane. BON VOYAGE So many ships put out to sea, So many silver sails Go dipping through the lilac dawn To where the skyline fails; So many ships — but, ah ! just one Sails with my heart to meet the sun. So many roses blowing wide 'Neath kiss of vagrant wind, So many petals pearled with dew The eager seekers find; But, ah! one rose — the reddest one — Lifts up my heart to meet the sun. For just one ship bears o'er the tide Love's dearest and its best, And just one rose of all the world She wears upon her breast. Ah, ship and rose and tides that run. My heart goes with you 'neath the sun ! 74 SONG I meant to work so hard to-day, See naught but tasks to do, But — I glimpsed your face amid the crowd, And I dreamed all day of you. I meant to toil through every hour, Deaf to the calls that rise. But — I heard you laugh at my open door. And I thought all day of your eyes. I meant to finish each weary task. Dumbly doing my part. But — oh, the smile of your rose-warm mouth Has lived all day in my heart ! So what does it matter at evensong That all my work's undone. Since — e'en in a dream, I went with you A-gypsying into the sun ! 75 DAY'S END Day's end — and behind us lie The good or the gilded wrong That have filled the space of the day's sweet grace, Ere the coming of evensong. Day's end — ^hush, hush, my heart, Fear not what the night may hold For a mist of moon and shimmer of stars Lie close in its ebon fold. 76 DAY'S END 77 Year's end — and the months roll back As a scroll unwound by chance And the red of the rose meets pallor of snows Like the ghost of an old romance. Year's end — ^be still, my heart, What matters a broken dream? For a new, sweet love with April eyes Will wait where the violets gleam. Life's end? What, then, is a day, And what is a whole long year But a finished rhyme in the hymn of Time Which ever the angels hear? Life's end? Heart, O my heart. List the dead years' far refrain And know by the rise and set of the stars The end means beginning again ! THE HILLS OF GOD The hills of God are hard to climb, O tender little feet; They stand up high above the plain And beckon to the wind and rain, And one is Faith and one is Pain, O tired little feet! The upward trails are flanked with thorns, O little pilgrim heart; The stones that shine so white ahead Are sacrificial altars spread. Where you must leave your passions, dead, O little pilgrim heart! But, ah, the hills of God they lean so close Against the feet of God, You see from off their sun-lit crest The goal that is your prayerful quest And hear the voice you've loved the best High on the hills of God. 78 FATE'S TRINITY Three things there are fate asks of us, Three things to test and prove The God-spark lingers in our souls — To laugh, to lift, to love. To laugh, brave-hearted, at despair. Meet sorrow without fear, And through the darkness of defeat To send a word of cheer — To bear a burden without whine However steep the road. To reach a lifting hand to ease A fellow traveler's load — To hear above hope's happy song A hurt heart's cry for aid ; To love the bruised and maimed and sad, To live all unafraid. 79 THE WANDER-WAY Springtime — and the bluebird's song And gold of daffodils, And the beckoning trail that runs Away to the waiting hills ; These — and a low, clear call At my restless heart all day With pilgrim staff to be out and gone Over the Wander- Way ! Gone where the reeds, a-quiver, Sing like the pipes o' Pan, And the gleam of the golden willows Marks where the spring began ; 80 THE WANDER-WAY 81 With never a pack on my shoulders The speed of my step to stay, Tracking a will-o'-the-wisp decoy Over the Wander- Way. Winds from the fragrant Southland Seeking some Holy Grail Stir purple lure of violets spread Beside the half-hid trail ; While high o'er head an argosy, White-sailed, drifts all the day — Cloud-ships by unseen pilots steered Over the Wander- Way. Oh, to be free as the birds are, Swift as the winds are swift To hit the trail that winds away To where the dim hills lift, And there to hail a white cloud-ship Bound for the ports of day, And sail, and sail — and never come back Over the Wander- Way ! THE MASTER'S TOLL Three things the Master asks of you, Though strong or weak, or high or low, Or want or riches you may know, Three tolls He levies as you go, Nor takes denial on your part — A steadfast will His love exacts, The will to meet each daily grind Of sordid chaff and in it find (In spite of hindering tears that blind) The golden grain of sweet content — 82 THE MASTER'S TOLL 83 A hand that's never too close shut To share its shining garnered gold. Nor yet too callous nor too cold Another hand to softly fold Nor miss the throbbing pulse of pain — A heart that hearkens day and night To fainting cries from "out the deep," A heart that wakes while others sleep, That shares a joy, and yet doth keep A tryst with those who know despair. This is the toll the Master takes. The love, the help, the purpose high Are yours to give, nor reason why; His answer will come by and by When life has blossomed into death. ALL SOULS (On All Souls' Night the dead are supposed to be aU lowed to return to earth for a sight of old haunts and once familiar faces.) This night, just this one only night They may come back again, The souls that have passed through the Gates, Shrived of all earthly stain. So many myriad hurrying ones, So many seeking those They knew and loved, ere on life's day Fell death's eternal close. So many changes in the world, So many homes removed. Suppose — Ah, God ! you will not let them miss The way to those they loved ! Through dim, mysterious distances To where we wait alone. The instinct of a homing-heart Will bring them to their own. 84 UNANSWERED Unanswered, did you say, your prayer to tread Always the shining paths of perfect peace — To bask day after day in deep content That comes of hope attained, of pain's surcease? Unanswered ? Yea, for 'tis a selfish cry, A plea to shirk and not to bravely bear ; Why should you think that God would take away. Each little cross that is your rightful share ? II Unanswered, did you say, your prayer for strength To meet the heartache and the woe of years, To see, clear-eyed, where paths of duty lead Nor miss the way through dusk of unshed tears? Unanswered? Nay, look deep within your heart ; Read there the patience 'neath the outward fret, Watch how your hands reach out to helpful tasks, And know by these that God does not forget. 85 SWEETEST EYES SONG Sweetest eyes that ever Laughed into my own, Not a cloud of sorrow Have you ever known. Hope is beckoning to you O'er the hills of fame And each grayest ember Holds a heart of flame. Love is waiting, waiting, Like a rose just blown- Sweetest eyes that ever Laughed into my own. 86 SWEETEST EYES 87 II Saddest eyes that ever Looked into my own, All of life's deep tragedy You have surely known. Dimmed with night-long vigils, Through the cruel years You have told hope's rosary With your bitter tears. Light of love and laughter From your depths has flown — Saddest eyes that ever Looked into my own ! ANNIVERSARIES How they do search the soul of us, Those annual recurrent days That from all time are set apart By some dread loss, some throb of heart, Some venomed touch of poisoned dart, Some parting of the ways. On such a day our unleashed thoughts Run down the vanished years, And single from time's rosary The golden beads of memory That are the heart's best legacy Or heritage of tears. ANNIVERSARIES 89 " 'Twas here we met," we say, and feel The pulses' old delicious start ; "Here bloomed our rose of love." And: ''Here" ( O death, why did you come so near, Were not there those far much less dear?) "Here God did break my heart !" And as we live again the scenes — Or sweet or sad they be — We cry aloud but just to know If they who shared that Long-ago Can feel, across death's midnight flow, A stir of memory. For if Love lives beyond the stars, If Faith outlasts the years. Then surely those who've gone before. Upon these days will reach once more To us a hand-touch as of yore And keep a tryst of tears. CONTENT Grant that I be content; yet, Lord, Not wholly so, Lest losing thus ambition's goad Life's apathy I know. The victor's palms are ofttimes wet With tears that shrive ; Make me content to find it so Yet still content to strive. 90