COPYRIGHT DEPOSIT. 
 
THE 
 
 JEWELS OF KING ART 
 
 BY 
 
 JAMES CONNOLLY 
 
 BOSTON 
 
 RICHARD G. BADGER 
 
 The Gorham Press 
 
 1906 
 
Copyright Igo6 by James Connolly 
 
 All Rights Reserved 
 
 LIBRARY of CONGRESS 
 Two Copies Received 
 
 DFC 14 1906 
 
 Copyri^iit Entry 
 
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 CLASS A 
 
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 COPY B. ' 
 
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 77^1? Gorham Press^ Boston 
 
To Pajaro 
 
 My pet Mocking Bird 
 Laureate of the Great South West 
 
CONTENrS 
 
 
 
 Page 
 
 The Jewels of King Art .... 9 
 
 N earing Port 
 
 
 
 13 
 
 Regressional 
 
 
 
 14 
 
 The Sea Tide Choir 
 
 
 
 16 
 
 Outward Bound 
 
 
 
 16 
 
 To the Humming Bird 
 
 
 
 17 
 
 To the Author of "Old Glory" 
 
 
 
 18 
 
 The Lipton Cup 
 
 
 
 19 
 
 Senator Hoar 
 
 
 
 20 
 
 A Sea Chase 
 
 
 
 21 
 
 Her Anszver 
 
 
 
 22 
 
 Beauty Chasing 
 
 
 
 23 
 
 Playing the Game 
 
 
 
 23 
 
 "Joy and Pain 
 
 
 
 24 
 
 On Coronado Beach 
 
 
 
 24 
 
 Love 
 
 
 
 25 
 
 Memorial Day 
 
 
 
 25 
 
 The Crisis 
 
 
 
 27 
 
 Winter out West 
 
 
 
 28 
 
 One Pale Primrose . 
 
 
 
 29 
 
 The Financier 
 
 
 
 29 
 
 Once More in Peace . 
 
 
 
 30 
 
 A Morning with Delarey 
 
 
 
 30 
 
 Extremes 
 
 
 
 32 
 
 My Home Port 
 
 
 
 34 
 
 A Morning Call 
 
 
 
 35 
 
 The Dreamer s Outing 
 
 
 
 36 
 
 The Yellow God 
 
 
 
 38 
 
 The Bow- Wow Banquet 
 
 
 
 38 
 
 The Sailor's Wife's Christmas 
 
 
 
 40 
 
 To Cronje in Exile . 
 
 
 
 42 
 
 Two Stages 
 
 
 
 43 
 
 The Robin and Mocking Bird 
 
 
 
 44 
 
 A Morning Ride to Salvador 
 
 
 
 45 
 
CONTENTS 
 
 Sunset in Dreamland 
 Rev. J. L. O'Netl, O 
 The Transvaal 
 Freedom's Appeal 
 Florence 
 On the Arno 
 Life 
 
 The Rain 
 Morning 
 Love and Gain 
 My Lost Sailor Lad 
 " In Tune " 
 
 To 
 
 In All's Land 
 Kruger and England 
 
 Page 
 
 47 
 48 
 
 48 
 
 49 
 49 
 50 
 50 
 51 
 51 
 52 
 52 
 53 
 54 
 55 
 57 
 
THE JEWELS OF KING ART 
 
 <J 
 
THE JKWKI.S 01? KING ART 
 
 The warm south winds of May for days had blown, 
 And sun and shower by fruitful turns had strown 
 The fresh green hills and fields with op'ning buds, 
 And all the quiet, heartsome neighborhoods, 
 Untroubled by the discords of the crowd. 
 Thrilled with new life; the trees in reverence 
 
 bowed 
 Their heads, and flung their leafy banners out 
 Amid the song of lark and thrush, and shout 
 Of farmer boys disporting on the grass, 
 Or watching the home coming milkmaids pass 
 And linger at the turn of the boreen, 
 A little way beyond, where could be seen 
 The better every simple charm and grace 
 Of rounded bust and limb and glow of face, 
 And tapered ankle, foot and shining tress, 
 And all the lure of native loveliness, 
 Resistless as the flowers are to the sun. 
 That round his convex orbit daily run. 
 
 This ominous wind of passion and desire 
 Had from the skies blown, like a wind of fire, 
 All winter glooms and dismal cloudiness — 
 The Prince its prurience had felt no less 
 Than did the peasant. And Hanrahan 
 The red and Aebhen held both court and clan 
 In strange enchantment of their mystic spells. 
 At twilight when the dews and vesper bells 
 Filled all the lovely land of meath around 
 With that divine delight of sight and sound — 
 And taste and smell and feeling, all too fine 
 For any but the fairie poet's line. 
 
MacBuain, sweet spoken Prince of Emania, 
 With all his men at arms in rich array, 
 And charioteers, fared forth Aillinn to meet — 
 Aillinn the loveliest maid and passing sweet — 
 Of all the maids of Leinster, she who knew, 
 Or thought his stories, as his love were true — 
 To meet him at Rosnaree was journeying 
 With retinue like the daughter of a king — 
 Leaving her Boyne behind her fast and far — 
 And urging forward toward her Pilot star. 
 The steadfast light and life of her heart's life — 
 Her one supreme desire to be his wife. 
 
 Deep in the beauty of a flowery glen 
 MacBuain now called a halt and bid his men 
 Unyoke their chariots royal for the night — 
 And when resigned to the serene delight 
 Of such entranced moments, all too few. 
 There from the south a horrid spectre flew 
 Toward them with vehement step, and fleet 
 As wings of fire flame up a city street. 
 "Go meet and ask him whence he comes, and 
 
 where 
 He goes, my men; and of surprise beware!" 
 Ordered MacBuain, "and why such headlong 
 
 haste, 
 As a white Deer by hounds, swift-footed chased." 
 
 " From Leinster Mount I came, and back I go 
 To see the river Bann's majestic flow 
 Through prospects fairer than your Ulster boasts, 
 MacBuain!" the sceptre cried, "nor all your 
 
 hosts — 
 Your chiefs and men and troops can save Aillinn — 
 I saw her by the youths of Leinster slain — 
 
 10 
 
There is my news !" Then fled the shape away 
 Like gust of wind blowing down a stormy sea. 
 
 Seeing their stricken Prince pale, totter, fall, 
 His troubled chiefs around him gathered all. 
 To get him quick restored and comforted; 
 But found alas that his great soul had fled 
 Its house of clay to meet Aillinn's above 
 And bide in the eternal realm of love. 
 
 They raised his tomb and rath with loving hands 
 Whereon a stone inscribed in Ogam stands — - 
 The Ultonians played their funeral games anew, 
 And from his grave a yew tree tall upgrew. 
 The spectre then to Ailhnn's presence went; 
 Her heart at sight of him with fear was rent — 
 "Whence comes he? We know not this strange 
 
 rude man," 
 She trembling said. 
 
 " From the bright river Bann 
 I come apace, and to Mount Leinster go " — 
 " You have strange news," the maiden said, " I 
 
 know." 
 " No news have I at all worth mentioning, 
 Save that I saw his men the grave digging 
 Of Ulster's Royal Heir — and bury him 
 Who died for love of thee at twilight dim." 
 The spectre sped away, the maiden fell 
 Dead on the spot, as olden Ollavs tell. 
 Her maids and ladies waiting, all in tears. 
 Saw her entombed in royal state, as peers 
 Of greater realms at last are laid to rest. 
 With fresh blown roses dewy on her breast. 
 
 11 
 
Then marveled all the neighborhood to see 
 Grow from her grave a towering apple tree, 
 Till on its top at seven years' end appeared 
 Her lovely head, by fairy hands upreared — 
 And men tilled, at the noon of darkest night, 
 Their new rose gardens by the yellow light 
 And beauty of her long disheaveled hair — 
 And on the yew, grown over MacBuain's grave, 
 
 there 
 Stood his head, till bards and prophets saw 
 The primal truth of love behind the law, 
 And cutting down both trees they straightway 
 
 made 
 Of each a poet's tablet, broad, with gold inlaid. 
 On this the courtships, loves, espousals, feuds, 
 Of Ulster one wrote down, and nobler deeds 
 Of chiefs in arms. On that of Leinster wrote 
 Another likewise, down from time remote. 
 
 Long centuries after, at a festival 
 Given by Art, High King, in Tara's Hall, 
 To all the learned men of art and science, 
 Who brought their Ogam tablets to the prince 
 As was the custom, to be read and sifted 
 By those with critic acumen most gifted. 
 The King's all-seeing eye with rapture caught 
 Sight of the tablets, so divinely wrought, 
 And took them in his hands for closer view. 
 When, quick as thought, together then they flew — 
 And clung as close as woodbine round an oak — 
 "Na}^ do not sever them," the king up spoke, 
 ' ' But thus preserve them with our jewels rare 
 In Tara here, that time to come may share. 
 And future kings, such symbols of the days 
 Of old, when men loved in sublimer ways 
 
 12 
 
And lived the precious things of Hfe to shield 
 From vandal hordes, as sages have revealed." 
 
 For centuries the tablets were preserved 
 An all good purpose of King Art well served 
 Till ages after, came a fire wind blown, 
 Kindled by Dunlang and burnt Tara down; 
 And all its treasures rare went up in flame. 
 And the great heart of Erin felt the shame 
 And feels the loss and sorrow now, and must 
 Till time's no more and all things fallen to dust. 
 Yet on its ashes, in the coming reign 
 Of liberty, shall rise a nobler fane 
 To truth and justice than the world's yet known- 
 Where love shall find a kingdom all her own. 
 
 NEARING PORT 
 
 The towering peak behind the harbor mouth 
 Looms up resplendent in the bright sunset ; 
 The voyage near its end, but we would yet 
 Sail on exultant in the dare of youth — 
 Love, song and valor, beauty, freedom, truth, 
 Long charmed our way and left us no regret — 
 No adverse gale or false light we have met 
 Could stay our course or lure us North or South. 
 
 To port and starboard braver ships are strewn. 
 Blind, trusting to their reckoning in the dark. 
 They plunge through surges dire of gulf and main. 
 No pilot nigh, no light of star or moon. 
 Ah, why must ne'er so many a gallant bark 
 Her final port of endless joy attain ! 
 
 13 
 
REGRESSIONAL 
 
 A vast Kipling! 
 
 Ye mighty tighty little islander, 
 
 How darst ye thus yer warring kin folk slur — 
 
 In couplets fling 
 
 Their follies in their faces? Ye should know 
 
 'Tis gall to Broderick, Saulsbury and Joe 
 
 And Kitchener 
 
 And all ye bid take up the white man's burden 
 
 Of guilty gold and Empire, the poor gurdeon 
 
 Of crime and war. 
 
 Ye are the chosen laureate of your race 
 
 And might have sung its faults with better grace. 
 
 Though I judge not 
 
 Lest I be judged, but from our Howels take. 
 
 My dictum terse, for he at least's no fake, 
 
 Here on the spot. 
 
 Ere the dry rot or Botha sweep it from the earth 
 
 And heaven gives the boastful race new birth 
 
 Of feeling, seeing 
 
 The right of other people's to their own 
 
 God given countries, to be theirs alone — 
 
 The right of being 
 
 Free in all justice to each neighboring state 
 
 More bent to love and be beloved than great. 
 
 But thou wouldst force 
 
 Thy little island by laws down the throatsf 
 
 Of greater nations, and with lawless votes 
 
 Estop the course 
 
 Of native justice, or with maxim guns 
 
 And all yer men at arms and tons and tons 
 
 Of vile falsehood, 
 
 t"f/e sticks to his traditions and so help him God he will 
 force his little island by laws down the throats of greater 
 nations." — Emerson's English Traits. 
 
 14 
 
Like craven minions lie the lives away 
 Of those ye darst not meet in open fray, 
 As brave men should 
 Ye pay to gold a homage absolute,* 
 The while in me such homage vile ye shoot. 
 
 And still ye land 
 
 Yer "Kngland wherein all is false and forgedf" — 
 
 With spoil and plunder all her vaults are gorged. 
 
 She prays to God 
 
 On bended knees for power his laws to break, 
 
 And offers up on gallows, at the stake. 
 
 Her sacrifice 
 
 Of freeman's lives, her holocaust 
 
 Of all that maids and matrons comfort most 
 
 And strong men prize. 
 
 For these and nameless crimes her doom is sealed. 
 
 She must to God condign atonement yield ! 
 
 * "There is no country in which such absolute homage is 
 paid to wealth." — Etnerson. 
 
 t"/« true England all is false and forged." 
 
 "I am afraid that English nature is so rank and aggressive 
 as to be a little incompatible with every other." 
 
 "Hardly the bravest among them have the manliness to re- 
 sist this." — R. W. Emerson. 
 
 J§ 
 
THE SEA SIDE CHOIR 
 
 Two mocking birds at mass and vespers sung 
 Upon the cross above the chapel door, 
 All spring and summer, and still joyous pour 
 Such wondrous notes the choral chants among, 
 They seem to issue from some angel tongue. 
 The ocean dirges, wafted evermore 
 On wings of sensuous trade winds, from the 
 shore 
 Of South Sea Isles, where floral censers swung 
 In tropic suns, diffuse an incense sweet 
 As burnt Alabanum at the Savior's feet, 
 
 The beauty of their riant measures lend. 
 The voices of the mountains and the trees — 
 Within, without, these heavenly harmonies 
 In adoration up to God ascend. 
 
 OUTWARD BOUND 
 
 The long bright summer days have come again 
 Restless around us roll the shoreless seas — 
 Close on the freshening trade wind how she flees ! 
 Our little bark with masts and shrouds astrain. 
 What rapture love to be thus free ! The brain 
 Is dizzy with delight. What brilliancies 
 Of tropic suns and stars and all that frees 
 The mind from languor and the heart from pain. 
 
 Nor reck how far ahead our destined port 
 While at the helm our mighty pilot stands — 
 In him we trust nor dread or reef or gale; 
 E'en while of tempests wild the bubble sport 
 What joy is ours obeying his commands. 
 Whither close reefing or snug furling sail! 
 
 10 
 
TO THE HUMMING BIRD 
 
 Radiant gem of beauty rare 
 Flashing through the morning air ! 
 When spring aglow, with song and shout, 
 Flings all her leafy banners out, 
 And buds in later suns expand 
 A blaze of beauty o'er the land, 
 From flower to flower on restless wing 
 Spinning to taste each honey spring, 
 Deep in the heart of every flower. 
 Embosomed in each fragrant bower. 
 
 From every rose some rare tint caught 
 Was in thy lustrous vesture wrought 
 With emerald and carmine hues, 
 And iridescent evening dews, 
 And glistening rainbow fragments : spun 
 From rays of morning star and sun, 
 And tropic rain — and mist, and light 
 Of the warm languorous southern night, 
 And crimson, violet, olive gold 
 In infinite loveliness untold. 
 
 How far the unfathomed sea below 
 Sparkled the rubies' wondrous glow 
 Thy slendor throat encompassing? 
 Ah never grandest crown of king 
 So bright a jewel yet displayed — 
 What time the blithe sea fairies played 
 Thy little song's accompaniment. 
 On their strung harps of gold, that lent 
 Strange music to the monotone 
 Of the old sea's eternal moan. 
 
 17 
 
TO THE AUTHOR OF " OLD GLORY" 
 
 Old Glory of immortal song that bore 
 
 The palm of poesy to our western shore — 
 
 Pity and sorrow for thy land ingrate — 
 
 As Dante's was, so now thy sad estate. 
 
 E'en Homer's self, neglected, blind, must needs 
 
 To pour his epics from a heart that bleeds. 
 
 And all we know of Paris, Helen, Troy, 
 
 Is what his genius left us to enjoy. 
 
 And what of all that nations, men have done 
 In arts or arms or science 'neath the sun — 
 Or what has wealth with all her golden store 
 Or kings and heroes ever compassed more 
 To tell to future ages whose the thought — 
 The bold design that cunning hands hath wrought 
 Into ideal forms of bronze and stone 
 But what the bards divine have sung alone. 
 
 The banners under which the brave and free 
 In every age have marched to victory, 
 Pennons that high at reeling mastheads flew, 
 When battling navies reddened all the blue, 
 And the last words from dying sailor's lip. 
 Nor plaint nor moan, but, " Don't give up the 
 
 ship!" 
 Were " pictures in the air," of freedom's soul. 
 What urged our Greely, Nansen to the pole — 
 Dewey and Shafter under torrid suns. 
 Where dire disease, more fatal than the guns 
 Of Spain, cut down their seared ranks so grand? 
 The "enchanted web" ennobling their command — 
 The flag that stood for all that men revere — 
 God, Country, home, wife, children, all that's dear 
 
 18 
 
To manly hearts, that sweetens Hfe, refines 
 The spirit sense, as length of years old wines. 
 
 And if those arms that bore on glory's field 
 That flag aloft, unknowing how to yield. 
 Fall powerless now, by want unnerved, and they 
 Who craven shrank on freedom's reddest day 
 By craft and fraud and gold's despotic reign 
 The very name of liberty profane, 
 From time's prolific womb a race shall rise 
 To light with brighter stars our darkling skies. 
 Then freedom, truth and justice, high above 
 The god of gain enthroned, and peace and love 
 Their blessings shall diffuse with lavish hand 
 And happy homes again adorn our land. 
 Temples to heaven ascend, whose gifts so rare, 
 The poor shall portion with the millionaire. 
 
 THE UPTON CUP 
 
 Flower of the shamrock, 
 
 Trophy of the brave, 
 Now is ours Corinthians — 
 
 Sir Thomas Lipton gave 
 The precious symbol to us — 
 
 A challenge bold that we 
 Defend must 'gainst all comers 
 
 On ocean, bay and sea. 
 
 Fresh blows the wind round Loma, 
 Far inland, up the bay 
 
 The silver gate's wide open 
 To all who come this way — 
 
 19 
 
A royal welcome's waiting — 
 True sailor's hail and cheer 
 
 Will greet all in the future 
 With joy of yester year. 
 
 Fill high the cup ; our pennants 
 
 Fling higher to the breeze. 
 Drink deep to love and friendship 
 
 But drain not to the lees. 
 A brimmer to Sir Thomas 
 
 When soon he comes out west 
 To win our hearts all from us — 
 
 The fullest and the best. 
 
 SENATOR HOAR 
 
 To think and feel two ages long and more, 
 And act above one's time, high as the stars 
 The earth above are, leaves a man some scars 
 
 That tell how nobly he the brunt had bore 
 
 Of battle for the right his years three score — 
 For equal justice to all men where dar's 
 
 His country's flag to float with honor o'er, 
 Nor native good nor high ideal mars. 
 
 For these and more than any speech or song 
 May utter, Hoar, thou in the senate stood 
 And taught mankind the truths sublime that 
 must 
 
 In God's own time uproot all crime and wrong — 
 The law of love and human brotherhood — 
 
 The glory of a nation to be just. 
 
 20 
 
A SEA CHASE 
 
 When you see the land so lavish of its beauty and 
 
 increase 
 Of nature's bounty, that to men yield comfort, 
 
 joy and peace, 
 And the proud sea's costly freighted ships, from 
 
 every mart and mine 
 Come crowding in, O murmur not that none of 
 
 these are thine. 
 
 Some are thine by right eternal of God's holy will 
 
 and law, 
 As his High Priests and Prophets taught, the more 
 
 they daily saw 
 The shrewd and evil-minded ones of olden times 
 
 possess 
 Themselves, the things that heaven designed for 
 
 all men's happiness. 
 
 But they wrought them single handed, giving men 
 
 a fighting chance — 
 In the days ere combinations owned the wide 
 
 world in advance. 
 And trusts and corporations, every self respecting 
 
 man 
 Crushed, and put to shame the very name of free 
 
 American ! 
 
 Come away to where the savage of the South Sea 
 
 Islands may 
 A precious little longer let his instincts have their 
 
 play; 
 We can loiter in the cocoa grove and from the 
 
 dukite run. 
 Or in shades of clustered palms hide us from the 
 
 tropic sun. 
 
 21 
 
There the fruits of earth abundant grow, in mellow 
 
 clusters fall 
 Into the lazy lap of each, the common right of all. 
 Haste we, haste we ere the greedy trusts have 
 
 filed on even these. 
 And brought the tattooed islanders submissive to 
 
 their knees. 
 
 Then at last the floating islands, rent by typhoons 
 from their base,— 
 
 Together round the harried sea in our canoe we'll 
 chase ; 
 
 And if they perchance shall vanish in the dark- 
 ness from our ken, 
 
 Then in mid ocean fearless, free, me must go down 
 like men. 
 
 HER ANSWER 
 
 My love to adorn with rare garlands 
 
 Of pearls and of rubies so fine, 
 I sailed and I sailed to all far lands 
 
 And ransacked sea, mart, reef and mine. 
 
 And then when with gems I had decked her 
 That outshone the sun and the stars — 
 
 O fool that I was to expect her 
 To honor my years and my scars ! 
 
 But now more ambitious than ever. 
 
 She said with evasion polite, 
 " Somewhere 'neath the Stygian River 
 
 Dear Jack they have found a Kunzite." 
 
 22 
 
BEAUTY CHASING 
 
 A man and a boy together 
 
 Stood talking beside the sea, 
 When up flew a fugitive feather 
 
 Of foam. With raptuous glee 
 And laughter the boy ran after 
 
 The vanishing white that flew 
 Inland where, taller than pine or fir 
 
 The majestic palm trees grew. 
 
 Till the white sea foam in mist dissolved 
 
 And the boy back musing went. 
 " Hast seen life's mystery aptly solved, 
 
 My son. Nor is that beauty spent ; 
 In yonder river's arid flood 
 
 'Twill back to the ocean flow 
 Then with fresh beauty inland scud. 
 
 For God has decreed it so." 
 
 PLAYING THE GAME 
 
 He had cornered rice and risen the price 
 
 Just double, and then it fell 
 
 In a day so low he must needs " let go," 
 
 And then he went to — well. 
 
 From that evil hour Imperial power 
 
 His phrensied mind possess' t 
 
 And proud at the helm of his airy realm 
 
 He stands the butt and jest 
 
 Of the men who play, and but yesterday 
 Followed his lead or tip, 
 At his banquet sat and took off their hat 
 To his rare good fellowship. 
 
 23 
 
Forever the same is the mystic game 
 Of life — who wins shall lose — 
 Who loses today, tomorrow he may 
 Win, if the jilt he woos. 
 
 JOY AND PAIN 
 
 Out of the heart rejoicing 
 
 There comes to the world the pain 
 Which its best and loveliest, voicing 
 
 In throes of its larger gain, 
 Gives it back in measure unstinted 
 
 Joys sweeter than those it lost — 
 Purer gold than yet has been minted- 
 
 Nor minding to count the cost. 
 
 ON CORONADO BEACH 
 
 Broke the surf upon the sand 
 
 In long waves of light so luminous. 
 While in mine I prest her hand 
 
 And up flew the salt sea spume on us. 
 On her breast and hairs gold crown 
 
 Jewels bright of sea mist glistened — 
 Ah, how dull the noisy town, 
 
 Jack!" she whispered reminiscent. 
 
 Played the band and artists sung 
 
 Near us in the gay pavilion ; 
 But to me no nereid's tongue — 
 
 No, nor seraphim a million 
 Could her voice so soft and low 
 
 Match in melody surprising : 
 " O, Jack, dear! the undertow! 
 
 We must move, the tide is rising!" 
 
 24 
 
LOVE 
 
 Love is the essence of all life and power, 
 
 For " God is Love " eternal infinite. 
 
 He said for love of us, " Let there be light," 
 
 And light there was, His all illuming dower 
 
 To earth, nor ever since that supreme hour 
 
 Was beauty wholly hid in starless night — 
 
 Somewhere the trees were green, the rose in 
 
 flower 
 Beneath a sunlit sky serene and bright. 
 
 O, say not then that " love's a malady " — 
 Or if self slain in some unlovely way, 
 'Twill wake and fill thy empty heart again 
 With light and hope and rapture, sinlessly 
 As happy little children at their play, 
 Whose voices are love's sweetest song's refrain. 
 
 MEMORIAL DAY 
 
 "The beautiful and impressive service of casting flowers 
 upon the sea, in mem,ory of the dear sailors of our wars, will 
 be observed this Memorial Day, the thirtieth of May, at 
 Long Beach." — Los Angeles Times. 
 
 Cast thy bread upon the waters — 
 Strew your flowers upon the sea, 
 
 Fairest of Columbia's daughters. 
 Wreathe their memories lovingly ! 
 
 Neptune greets you from his royal 
 
 Chariot shoreward driven fast, 
 With his hero subjects loyal. 
 
 Of great sea fights over past. 
 
 25 
 
Music shall our bravest waken 
 
 From their long, deep voiceless sleep 
 
 To a thrill of joy, partaken 
 
 By their shipmates 'neath the deep. 
 
 O'Brien first — he of Machias, 
 Hauling down the British flag, 
 
 Hails you, as once hailed Elias 
 From the Jordan's stormy crag. 
 
 Barry capturing the Edward 
 
 Fires a broadside in salute. 
 Who that hears his guns, or heard, 
 
 Dare be, in your presence mite? 
 
 Jones, back answering to Pierson 
 With the hero's supreme might, 
 
 The Briton vaunting he had won, 
 " I have not yet begun to fight!" 
 
 Farragut, lashed up in the mizzen 
 Rigging of his flag ship, in command, 
 
 As the morning sun uprisen 
 Glorified the ravaged land. 
 
 Ghostly fleets come sailing shoreward, 
 In the sea mist shortening sail ; 
 
 Eager for the first sweet foreword, 
 Admirals and captains hail. 
 
 Thus their fame and honor wreathing 
 Fresh through centuries to come. 
 
 To their spirits sweet songs breathing, 
 Fear not, they shall not be dumb. 
 
 26 
 
Every wave that on your beaches 
 Breaks in voiceful memory 
 
 From some olden squadron reaches 
 With its brave tales of the sea. 
 
 THE CRISIS 
 
 O men who long have toiled 
 
 In mine, shop, mart or field, 
 
 Our blood within our veins has boiled 
 
 How rich the hoarded yield? 
 
 Let they who reaped the harvests tell, 
 
 For only they may know — 
 
 The men who all things buy and sell — 
 
 Not we who plough and sow. 
 
 They grudge us right to live, 
 These mighty lords of earth, 
 They gall with penury and give 
 The men of honest worth. 
 Who dare not truckle to the things 
 Whereby their minions grow — 
 Their weak mercenary underlings — 
 Vile source of all our woe. 
 
 We can crush this false pride 
 
 Based on ill gotten gold ; 
 
 The trusts and mergers open wide. 
 
 That all men may behold. 
 
 The guilt there secreted too long. 
 
 By silken craft and guile, 
 
 In vaults than any rocks more strong, 
 
 A foul polluting pile. 
 
 27 
 
Fraud and graft, graft and fraud 
 
 Everywhere in our land, 
 
 Twin she wolves, unashamed, stalk abroad — 
 
 Contaminating band — 
 
 Court and senate to defile — 
 
 Judges, high financiers; 
 
 The structure tottering the while 
 
 To fall about our ears. 
 
 O men of hearts too great 
 
 For any taint or touch 
 
 Of crime ! You must no longer wait — 
 
 The crisis is now such 
 
 That only you may hope to save 
 
 The holy heritage 
 
 Of liberty your fathers gave — 
 
 Up and your contest wage. 
 
 WINTER OUT WEST 
 
 These quiet winter days and nights of rest 
 Are all so filled with joy of living here 
 It seems sometimes 'tis not an earthly sphere 
 
 But some ideal island of the blest. 
 
 Where never comes a weary heart in quest 
 
 Of beauty and those charms that most endear 
 But find them in this sunny atmosphere 
 
 Of these majestic landscapes of the west. 
 
 Now falls the rain in fructifying showers 
 Weaving its vestures of translucent green 
 To clothe the earth ; the wind among the pines 
 Sings to the opening buds some tranced hours. 
 Then comes the clearing sky's resplendent 
 sheen — '.-^^ 
 
 The sun of God, pervading all, resplendent 
 shines. 
 
 28 
 
ONE PALE PRIMROSE 
 
 One pale, lone primrose, 
 Faded but not dead 
 
 Droops beside my path. 
 No other flower blows, 
 No soft showers spread 
 Greenness of aftermath. 
 
 Ah how bright in May 
 All the land was shining ! 
 Beauty at her best 
 Reigned with charmful sway, 
 Love knew no repinnig 
 At an empty nest. 
 
 But long summers drought 
 Still must bring the sear 
 Showers fall and lo 
 Every vernal growth 
 Beautifies the year — 
 Then the roses blow. 
 
 Beauty never dies — 
 Only fades a space 
 To take on fresh glow, 
 Loves dear sacrifice 
 To his ladies' grace — 
 God decreed it so. 
 
 THE FINANCIER 
 
 He robbed the poor and built 
 Himself a monument — 
 
 Men have condoned his guilt, 
 God is omnipotent. 
 
 29 
 
ONCE MORE IN PEACE 
 
 Once more in peace with pen and book 
 I loiter in this quiet nook. 
 The solace of my tree and vine 
 The stimulus, the bliss divine 
 Which in the noisy town forsook 
 Me, now in holier peace are mine. 
 
 A MORNING WITH DELAREY 
 
 Meek and humble of heart they knelt 
 In prayer on the wet autumn veldt, 
 Delarey and his valient band 
 Imploring that the mighty hand 
 Of God again would aid the right 
 And, win or lose the coming fight. 
 That mercy, mercy would be shown 
 The vanquished when the field was won. 
 
 Then, in the dark the dawn before. 
 
 They charge and raking volleys pour 
 
 Into the reeling foeman's ranks. 
 
 Cut through his center, turn both flanks — 
 
 His cavalry in panic rout ; 
 
 But raise no boastful, conqueror's shout 
 
 Their dying captives' groans above 
 
 Nor insult brother men they love. 
 
 Now on the field a flood of light 
 Comes pouring down, dispels the night. 
 Revealing to the eye of day 
 The sickening scenes of that short fray; 
 Horses and men, or dead and dying. 
 In sanguine heaps promiscuous lying. 
 
 30 
 
Battalions that the field have lost, 
 Disheartened captives, count the cost. 
 
 Once more the victors, on their knees 
 
 In blood, the wrath of God appease. 
 
 " Dear Lord, 'twas not our will," they pray, 
 
 " These erring Britons thus to slay. 
 
 And loyal to our land and Thee. 
 
 They seek all from us to take 
 
 And we defend it for Thy sake." 
 
 Delarey rising to his feet, 
 
 The heart light of the paraclete 
 
 Shines in his face. " Now men," he said, 
 
 " Let wounded Boer and Briton be 
 
 Treated with equal tenderness. 
 
 Who to a fallen foe does less 
 
 Betrays his God and brands with shame 
 
 The hero's and the patriot's name." 
 
 Methuen, wounded, wondering, hears — 
 The simple words dispel his fears 
 Of long captivity's disgrace — 
 Delarey meets him face to face — 
 " My lord art wounded? I regret 
 That such sorry case we've met. 
 In better days I could have nursed 
 You as befits a man at worst." 
 
 Swifter than keenest pointed dart 
 
 His words transfix Methuen's heart. 
 
 " O God," he groans within, " the pain 
 
 Of all those sinless souls I've slain. 
 
 Yet worse than this, their homes I've burned 
 
 And this man's wife and children turned 
 
 31 
 
Out on the ravaged veldt to starve — 
 For what? A greedy king to serve." 
 
 " Nor this the worst for me in store — 
 
 His feeble mother past four score 
 
 Adrift on the four winds of heaven 
 
 I cast. He now defeats me one to seven, 
 
 And- — with a kindness worse than whips 
 
 Of steel on his forgiving lips — " 
 
 " My lord, you and your men are free 
 
 To go your ways," broke in Delarey. 
 
 " My aides will see you safe to where 
 Awaits you soothing solace, care ; 
 My surgeon shall attend you day 
 And night, assiduous on the way — 
 God ope your blinded Empire's eyes — 
 Too great the human sacrifice 
 To bloated kingdoms paid and paid — 
 My lord, adieu, our truce is made." 
 
 EXTREMES 
 
 "Turning to scorn with lips divine. 
 The falsehood of extremes." — Tenneyson. 
 
 Beside the idle shaft he lies. 
 
 His hammer in his hand, 
 His arms are bare, his eyes' death stare 
 
 Still fixed on mountains grand 
 Of coal, like giant sentinels. 
 
 That round him darkling stand. 
 
 Spent to its socket on his brow, 
 The candle has gone out; 
 
 32 
 
His wife and children, gaunt and pale, 
 
 In tears now kneel about 
 The one sole stay of their lives and play. 
 
 While the vocal forests shout 
 
 With their infinite tongues of liberty 
 
 And in the city near 
 The mighty owners of the mines 
 
 Look grateful as they hear ; 
 And the fools on strike, Ricard and Mike, 
 
 Must learn their power to fear. 
 
 And he, the lordliest of them all, 
 
 Unpitying had decreed 
 That closed right down the mines must be 
 
 Nor cared what hand might feed 
 The miners' children's hungry mouths — 
 
 He was no man of greed. 
 
 In his private car he rides away 
 
 To where at anchor rides 
 His yacht so fine, on the windy brine — 
 
 On board in splendor bides 
 His kith and kin, away for a spin 
 
 O'er summer seas she glides. 
 
 On, on, his floating palace flies 
 
 While mirth and revelry 
 In his cabins ring, where is felt no sting 
 
 Of his late dire decree. 
 But the starving cries of children rise 
 
 To heaven eternally. 
 
MY HOME PORT 
 
 Far out to sea indefinitely drifting, 
 
 Becalmed, or buffeted by storms' great stress; 
 My reckoning lost and unshored ballast shifting, 
 
 Deeper I drink the dulling bitterness 
 Of wild unfathomable wastes Antarctic, 
 
 Where tall ice islands lift their glistening spires 
 lyike grand cathedral steeples, which afar take 
 
 On new splendors in the auroral fires. 
 
 All night upon the troubled waters pouring 
 Oil from the marrow of my bones out wrung, 
 
 'Mid howHng winds and waves tumultuous roar- 
 ing- 
 Nursing a garboard leak, a mast head sprung ; 
 
 Eastward I sail and sail like Vanderdecken, 
 Away beyond the Cape of Storms afar ; 
 
 Sea fairies from the cloud rack to me beckon 
 " On, on to Banjamassan or Samar!" 
 
 Till come at last to my out port's meridian 
 
 I northward steer and catch the trade winds 
 free. 
 Then up the brave blue Indian Ocean fan. 
 
 The fervor of the south pulsing through me. 
 Then close ahead loom up a thousand islands — 
 
 Fair gardens of the Malay's elder gods 
 Richer in flower and fruit than dreamt I my lands 
 
 Were, where the lotus in the ether nods. 
 Sumatra, Java, Banka, Borneo, 
 
 The coral sands that fringe thy lovely shore 
 With sun and surf dyed gems are all aglow, 
 
 Thy tall palm groves and jungles sparkle more 
 
 34 
 
With radiance of thy black-eyed daughter's looks- 
 Thy mountain brooks with frond and flower 
 o'erhung 
 
 More beautiful than all portrayed in books 
 Or ever artist limned or poet sung. 
 
 My reckoning, lost mid storms and dangers polar, 
 
 When sea and sky were met in fatal fray? 
 I find it here amid these beauties solar — 
 
 My Pilot Star shall guide and cheer my way 
 Onward, serene to my home port supernal. 
 
 Where never gale or wave or pain assail ; 
 Where ships at anchor ride in peace eternal — 
 
 Answering the harbor master's kindly hail. 
 
 A MORNING CALL 
 
 The blossoms are falling, falling — 
 
 White blossoms of almond and peach, 
 And the blithe birds calling, calling 
 
 Their mates in such exquisite speech 
 That my poor heart grieves and my tongue but 
 cleaves 
 
 To my palate when I essay 
 To invite thee love far afield to rove 
 
 For one blissful holiday. 
 
 Bright is our way and fragrant 
 
 With the beauty and smell of flowers, 
 And never a dull or vagrant 
 
 Sad thought shall darken the hours. 
 Together we'll sup from the golden cup 
 
 Of the poppy life's rarest wine. 
 With a wholesome laugh, while the bliss we quaff, 
 
 In the glow of the blest sunshine. 
 
 35 
 
On the hills hear the sweet mist maidens, 
 
 So lovely in purple and white, 
 In voices of softest cadence 
 
 Our steps to their bowers invite. 
 In the primrose dells hear the mission bells 
 
 Ever chiming the old refrain ; 
 Be happy today as a child at play 
 
 Till, in death, thou art born again. 
 
 See the old earth deftly wreathing 
 
 Her head with young maidens hair; 
 Feel her warm blood thrilling and seething 
 
 With new life and love everywhere — ■ 
 To heaven lifting her white hands — sifting 
 
 From desert sands her finest gold — 
 Come away to roam through the meadow foam : 
 
 Where the young heart never grows old. 
 
 THE DREAMER'S OUTING 
 
 A dreamer, he of such strange beauty dreamed 
 As never mortal eye had gazed upon. 
 A thinker, she whose beauty erst had won 
 
 The love of men more gifted than he seemed — 
 And had not woman's will, since Adam, run 
 
 To win ? And this her highest aim she deemed. 
 
 Had he not oft in coldness past her by. 
 
 Her look and smile unheeding, gone his way? 
 Yet soon on him should dawn the fateful day 
 
 When one brief glance from her love darting eye 
 Should bring him to her feet to plead and pray 
 
 For grace and mercy of his deity. 
 
 36 
 
So when the greenness, dew and flowers sent 
 On breath of June, into the city's throng. 
 Their fragrance, and the woods were sweet with 
 song 
 
 Of birds, afield this sturdy dreamer went 
 To bide and recreate all summer long — 
 
 But she his selfish aim would circumvent. 
 
 Well had he scanned the ills of city life 
 
 While through his woodland ways alone he 
 
 moped — 
 No summer girl might thither drift he hoped — 
 Here he was free from trouble, care and strife. 
 How fresh the woods and green hills westward 
 sloped 
 The fields and streams with beauty all were rife. 
 
 "Ah, but not here is what I've sought to find — 
 The beauty of all beauty is not here.' ' 
 "Thou hast not eyes to see, 'tis everywhere — 
 
 Though chance of destiny hath made men blind 
 To what they seek, that ever dwells anear, 
 
 Seek with the light of all seeing eyes and mind ! " 
 
 A dryad of the woods, for such she seemed, 
 Before him radiant in a bower stood 
 Of wild rose twined athwart the underwood — 
 
 'Twas she had spoken — no, he had not dreamed — 
 What new felicity thrilled all his blood — 
 
 His eyes with very rapture danced and gleamed. 
 
 * * Queen of all Queens, what homage can I pay 
 Thee, sweet sovereign of all majesty?" 
 "Bow down before me low on pliant knee 
 
 And pardon for thy past omissions pray," 
 A wood thrush piped atop the nearest tree, 
 
 As down he bent exulting to obey. 
 
 37 
 
THE YELLOW GOD 
 
 "This is the white man's God, O, Chiefs, behold!' 
 
 The Casique said to his assembled braves, 
 Holding aloft the glittering lump of gold — 
 
 "They come to pillage, slay or make us slaves — 
 Let's dance to, and adore their deity. 
 
 That it may bid them do us no such ill — " 
 They danced and reverenced it with votive glee ; 
 
 The God propitious, yielding to their will. 
 
 But men from gods not always counsel take — 
 
 When gold and conquest are the prizes sought; 
 Alive they burnt the Casique at the stake, 
 
 The God's good bidding coming all to naught. 
 From north to south, from cast to west they swept 
 
 And scourged the land with war and rapine dire ; 
 Mothers with babes into the rivers leapt 
 
 To escape the infernal pangs of sword and fire. 
 
 THE BOW-WOW BANQUET 
 
 The royal feast of the bow-wows 
 Was set in the palatial house 
 
 Of Lady Worthy at Newport. 
 Around the well-bred cannies sate 
 And of the banquet drank and ate 
 
 Complaisantly as peers at court. 
 
 Blazoned such gems on head and neck, 
 As well might queen or princess deck, 
 
 Of every setter, poodle, collie. 
 Their ladies lounged admiring near 
 Exulting in the festive cheer — 
 
 'Twas "this is fine, — Nay more, 'tis jolly. 
 
 38 
 
In vain may art and riches vie 
 
 With nature. When the cups filled high 
 
 Full often mantling had gone round 
 Instinct, desire, mirth rebelled — 
 No dog could in his seat be held — 
 
 Such test their culture proved unsound. 
 
 The ladies, shocked and shamed, withdrew, 
 Around the liveried valets flew, 
 
 Their blithesome masters to restrain; 
 And when the dogs were curbed at last, 
 Unrobed they were and forthwith cast 
 
 All into baths of best champagne. 
 
 Champagne with heather blossoms white 
 Perfumed, as sweet as highland night 
 
 Bathed in warm dews of summer sheen- 
 Freemen, ' ' What think ye of these things ? ' ' 
 'Tis simple truth, "the poet sings," 
 
 Nor half of what he's heard and seen. 
 
 Dim, dark and bare the tenements 
 In Rockfelt's alley, high the rents. 
 
 Half naked children grim and gaunt 
 Thicker than bees around a hive. 
 With hunger scarcely half alive 
 
 These sunless, noxious abodes haunt. 
 
 You hear the barking and the cries 
 Of dogs and children and your eyes 
 
 And heart with shame and sorrow rent 
 Bewail as men the evil days 
 When, drifting from their old sweet ways, 
 
 False gods your daughters circumvent. 
 
 39 
 
THE SAILOR'S WIFE'S CHRISTMAS 
 
 A furious gale was howling, Cape Horn ten leagues 
 away, 
 
 The brave ship, hard-prest, groaning, under goose- 
 winged topsails lay. 
 
 The mountain waves wild-roaring, swept her fore 
 and aft as high 
 
 As the reeling mast-heads, bending under a black, 
 storm-riven sky. 
 
 Beyond the doleful darkness no eye had seen to 
 
 shine. 
 On that wild Christmas morning, one ray of hope 
 
 divine. 
 All hands tug fainting at the pumps, breast-high 
 
 immersed they stood 
 In water cold as snowdrift on the bleak polar land. 
 
 Then, thundering down from Sou'west the fearful 
 
 hail-squall came. 
 In its black forehead burning an eye of frantic 
 
 flame; 
 "Aloft, brave lads," the captain cries, "and furl 
 
 the foretop sail!" 
 And then the song of valor rose above the wave 
 
 and gale. 
 
 But human power the bravest is futile to with- 
 stand 
 
 The vengeful blows and mighty of the storm- 
 King's iron hand. 
 
 The sails were blown to tatters, the yards were 
 rent in twain — 
 
 To death were dashed five sailors on deck and in 
 the main. 
 
 40 
 
Three dead men in the cabin, a woman sad and 
 
 mild, 
 Beside them humbly praying, before a crib and 
 
 child- 
 Blest symbol of the Christ-child in the manger 
 
 lowly laid 
 While gleams of glancing sunlight on all their 
 
 faces played. 
 
 Came down her husband weary, from the long 
 
 night's fatal fray, 
 A man of deeds and daring, not used to praise of 
 
 pray; 
 By love's sweet power she rules him, be kneels his 
 
 wife beside. 
 While falls the peace of Galilee upon the storm 
 
 swept tide. 
 
 Long since o'er life's vast ocean the ship has sailed 
 her last. 
 
 And reached the radiant haven, colors flying at 
 half mast 
 
 For all brave ships and sailors wrecked on reefs or 
 lost at sea — 
 
 For ships that sail in direful gale through all eter- 
 nity. 
 
 41 
 
TO CRONJE IN EXILH 
 
 How fair ye, heart of valor and of truth ! the while 
 The riant trade-winds waft thee to thy sea-girt isle 
 The essence of that spirit bred upon thy veldt, 
 That only souls supreme as thine have felt ? 
 Intrepid warders of that boon, of God's the best — 
 Banished from Europe far to exile in the west, 
 And thence transplanted in thy southern land, 
 
 ere time 
 Had branded on her radiant brow or shame or 
 
 crime ! 
 
 O liberty! unconquerable ever where 
 Thy life is lived, a simple unambitious prayer — 
 Where luxury, with all her gorgeous train of woes, 
 Has come not in to make thy erstwhile friends thy 
 
 foes. 
 Oh, may thy guardian angels hover him above, 
 To soothe his griefs with whisperings of hope and 
 
 love — 
 And benisons of loving hearts, of his the life. 
 The sweet caress, the magic touch of child and 
 
 wife! 
 
 Ah ! never yet so deep have rankled English gyves 
 In braver souls or blighted more ideal lives 
 Than thine and thy brave few, who fearless stood 
 
 at bay. 
 Scarce one to twenty, firm before the vast array 
 Of Roberts' vaunting troops, till wasting famine 
 
 sore 
 Thy fall foredoomed. But final triumph waits 
 
 before 
 All valiant souls, and God is just, and yet will he 
 Strike Briton's tyrant fetters from thy land and 
 
 thee. 
 
 42 
 
TWO STAGES 
 
 I stood in manhood's morning prime 
 The peer of any of my time — 
 The peer, as men are gauged to-day, 
 By gifts divine they fling away. 
 With lust of gold my heart was fired, 
 The more of riches I acquired 
 The more the burning thrist consumed — 
 My life, my very soul seemed doomed. 
 While on my ears unceasing came 
 The honeyed sounds of men's acclaim. 
 And Woman, with resistless wiles. 
 Lavished on me her dazzling smiles. 
 
 Then came the change, as soon or late 
 It comes to all. Ah, welcome fate ! 
 Failure and loss my heart have bowed 
 And nowhere mid the jostUng crowd 
 Is left one friend to call mine own — 
 I am forsaken and alone 
 With thee of all I loved and knew. 
 Through good and ill unswerving, true 
 And faithful as when in our halls 
 GHttered the showy festivals. 
 And fashion's brightest arts decoyed 
 Only to leave an aching void. 
 
 Sing me to-night a simple song 
 
 To soothe to peace and make me strong- 
 
 A melody of love and youth — 
 
 A harmony of joy and truth. 
 
 Such as the wind in Maytime brings. 
 
 Rose perfumed, on its dewy wings — 
 
 That in it hath the entrancing call 
 
 43 
 
To prayer and holy penance, all 
 
 The rapture of the vesper hymn — 
 
 The glory of the seraphim — 
 
 And, chastened wing my poor soul's flight 
 
 Up, up beyond this realm of night ! 
 
 THE ROBIN AND MOCKING BIRD 
 
 A robin red breast, migrating sou'west, 
 
 His weary wing rested one day, 
 Where the green, white and gold of a wide orange 
 wold 
 
 Set his fancy and voice in full play. 
 
 A mocking-bird near on a larch, lent an ear 
 To the soft notes so strange to his land — 
 
 "Ho, red breast!" he sung in the robin's own 
 tongue, 
 "You are welcome, lad, give us your hand!" 
 
 "Whence came you? you seem to be in a day 
 dream," 
 "From the northland, " the robin replies, 
 "Where the frosty wind blows 'mid the realm of 
 the snows, 
 I am charmed with your warm winter skies, 
 
 ' ' May I linger till spring 'mid this bright blossom- 
 ing?" 
 
 "To be sure, lad," the mocking-bird sung, 
 "Why bless you, my boy, 'tis our infinite joy 
 
 To have you this Christmas among 
 
 ' * Our bowers Acadian with golden fruits laden, 
 And flowers that bloom evermore, 
 
 44 
 
'Mid our valleys so green, on our hills in the sheen, 
 From mountain to vocal seashore. 
 
 "Come away to the feast, be our first honored 
 guest, 
 
 At our festival, fit for a king!" 
 "So unworthy am I, " quoth the robin, quite shy, 
 
 And after his kind host took wing. 
 
 A MORNING RIDE TO SALVADOR 
 
 Across the mesa's lucent green 
 The golden poppy's gorgeous sheen 
 Such affluence of beauty flung. 
 The leagues of wild flowers far among. 
 That over all the glorious show 
 Uprose a ruddy golden glow, 
 And o'er the cloudless dome of blue 
 A gossamer of saffron drew. 
 
 On every blade of grass and thorn 
 
 Glistened the dewy gems of mom. 
 
 And fragrances more rich and rare 
 
 Than Ceylon's spiceries were there; 
 
 A lark's wild song the heavens filled — 
 
 On palm and pine the brown thrush trilled ; 
 
 An eagle from his mountain eyre 
 
 Far north, sailed down the blithe March sky- 
 
 And now, a song sublime — O, hark ! 
 
 Surpassing voice of thrush or lark — 
 
 It is the inspired mocking bird — 
 
 The song that Saints in Heaven heard 
 
 When bright Cecilia's soul took flight 
 
 Upward on that dark, fatal night 
 
 When martyr to God's truth, she died 
 
 And was in Heaven beatified. 
 
 45 
 
"Those ruins, girl, the hill below? 
 
 The old Franciscan pueblo. 
 
 Perhaps the only heritage 
 
 Of a more glad, romantic age. 
 
 When men lived less for pelf and power, 
 
 And beauty and truth were woman's dower — 
 
 Here on this fallen Sala floor 
 
 In mirthful maze full many a score 
 
 Of senoritas, fairer far 
 
 Than Dian or the Morning Star, 
 
 Danced, their fine figure's grace of motion. 
 
 Like waves of some bright star-lit ocean 
 
 Or wind-stirred lake, their dark eye's glance 
 
 Shot through you like a Cupid's lance. 
 
 Their cavalier's admiring eyes 
 
 Hung on their beauties' witcheries. 
 
 "This is the ruined altar where 
 They knelt at Mass or Vespers, ere 
 A hostile Saxon foot had trod 
 Upon their shores, with rapine shod — 
 You see his footprints everywhere, 
 Sign of destruction, death, despair. 
 
 Standing the shriveled palms beneath, 
 The freer to respire the breath 
 Of the wild rose and jessamine. 
 There came out of the fallen fane 
 A woman, bent, grey and decrepit ; 
 She paused before the door and wept. 
 As if her poor old heart would break. 
 Xet's ask the stricken soul to take 
 A ride,' Cecilia said, 'away 
 From scenes that on her poor heart lay 
 Heavier than the weight of sin'. 
 'Pray, madam, may I help you in 
 
 4Q 
 
To our poor coche ? There is peace, 
 
 And of your sorrow sweet surcease 
 
 Down in our sea-side cities throng,' 
 
 Gracias senor, here I belong. 
 
 Mi marido, ninos, todo lie 
 
 Here long in dust and soon shall I.' " 
 
 Gentle and meek as any child, 
 
 Through her hot tears she bowing smiled ; 
 
 Then, with the grace, polite and bland, 
 
 Of her complaisant native land. 
 
 She reached my wife her hand and said : 
 
 "Adios, senora. Do not shed 
 
 A tear for me ; I no more care 
 
 For things the world in common share — 
 
 My dead await me there above. 
 
 Where all is joy and peace and love. " 
 
 SUNSET IN DREAMLAND 
 
 Alone, upon the headland's rocky brow. 
 Westward of all the summer lands and seas. 
 We roamed together — Now I drink the lees 
 
 Of life's red wine ; and feel the moonsons blow 
 
 Fresh in the brilliant sunset's afterglow. 
 Odors of Bendemere and Celebes, 
 Inward, to soothe the burning memories 
 
 Of vanished joys I nevermore may know. 
 
 But, ere the lingering radiance fades away, 
 Come drifting in upon the surges hoar, 
 The white-robed forms of friends who ne'er 
 beguiled : 
 
 Spirits, that lure me back to life's noon-day; 
 
 Our ancient, ship we man, equip, unmoor, 
 And put to sea, to breast the tempests wild ! 
 
 47 
 
REV. J. L. O'NEIL, O. P. 
 
 "The light he leaves behind him lies upon the paths of men." 
 
 Our olive groves are vocal with the song 
 Of many a bird you loved so well to hear ; 
 Our Southern winter skies are warm and clear 
 
 As when you loved to loiter all day long 
 
 These stately palms and fragrant bowers among; 
 Those too brief days of rest that you could spare 
 From watching on the hill-top, in the care 
 
 Of souls you saved by grace of pen and tongue. 
 
 No, such transition is not death, but life 
 Eternal, happy, and we feel the glow, 
 O, gentle spirit, of thy presence near. 
 
 It strengthens and sustains us in the strife ; 
 Inspires, and saves us from the undertow, 
 
 Uplifts us to a holier atmosphere. 
 
 THE TRANSVAAL 
 
 Freedom, in one short age has mighty grown, 
 
 Pillared on justice 'neath her Southern skies! 
 Her old despoiler, England, saw her rise. 
 
 With open, virgin breast where diamonds shone 
 In myriad clusters round her golden zone. 
 
 Then, at her throat, the royal robber flies. 
 Ah, must she stand or fighting fall alone ? 
 
 The troubled nations gape with senile eyes. 
 
 Now round her rally sons well tried and true. 
 Intrepid, yielding to no queen but her ; 
 United, ardent, simple, passionate, 
 Sincere in love, steel strung of nerve and thew — 
 Men of such soul and brawn as her own Kruger, 
 Stand firm sweet maid, thy cause is just and 
 great! 
 
 48 
 
FREEDOM'S APPEAL 
 
 Cronje in exile; Joubert dead — Ah, where 
 Shall freedom find another two such men, 
 To lead her valiant few o'er mount and glen, 
 
 Against the robber hordes of England ? Spare, 
 
 O spare, Almighty God, the men that dare 
 Be free to-day, and loyal to Thee, when 
 The armed millions, from their spoilers' den 
 
 March forth to slay, nor reck the orphan's share. 
 
 Columbia what of thee ? and thou, brave France ? 
 Wilt sit and see your little sister slain, 
 Nor raise one arm to ward the fatal stroke ? 
 Backward a century to Yorktown glance 
 And there some oldtime valor thou mayst gain, 
 To save such freemen from the tyrant's yoke. 
 
 FLORENCE 
 
 Florence, more beautiful than thought can reach, 
 Thy artist monks their lowly cloisters made 
 With rare creations, in whose light and shade 
 
 Seraphic forms move radiantly, and teach 
 
 Such truths divine of loveliness that speech 
 Can never paint, nor the hard hand of trade 
 Efface. On thy maternal breast they laid 
 
 Their heads, their fame upon thy altars, each. 
 
 Around thee close the sunlit Appenine 
 
 His sheltering arms in pristine fondness flung. 
 
 As the young mother clasps her first- bom child. 
 When all was pure from the great hand divine, 
 At the first dawn and hoary time was young. 
 
 And God on the new birth of beauty smiled. 
 
 49 
 
ON THE ARNO 
 
 How lightly Fancy dips her golden oar 
 
 Into the Arno, and far up ascends 
 
 To where the vocal river sparkling wends 
 Through matchless beauty crowning either shore- 
 To Florence, mother Queen of Arts, that bore 
 
 Those masters of all time, whose canvas lends 
 
 A glory such as only God extends 
 To his creative few forevermore. 
 
 Giotto here first gave eternal life 
 
 To art divine — his touch gave Dante's face 
 
 The unfading glow that centuries of strife, 
 Nor ages dark nor vandals could efface — 
 Nor the foul thrust of coward envy's knife — 
 
 Giotto, Dante, first of all their race ! 
 
 LIFE 
 
 The hours we may live in the land of the ideal. 
 Above the lower passions of the earth and all 
 its pain 
 
 Are the joys supreme of life — the felicities which 
 We all may, as our souls grow upward, still in 
 ampler measure gain. 
 
 50 
 
THE RAIN 
 
 The rain, God's blessed rain, 
 On the parched land amain 
 
 Falls, and the gaping earth, 
 Barren so long, gives birth 
 To beauty and joy again, 
 
 Dispelling doubt and dearth. 
 
 Out from the drouth of fears — 
 
 The unbelief of years 
 
 That dried my soul to dust 
 Tears of repentance burst, 
 
 Fruitful, redeeming tears 
 
 Of faith, love, hope and trust. 
 
 MORNING 
 
 Up from behind the mountain's purple crest 
 A golden glory, rolls the convex sun ; 
 A-field their flocks, the jocund shepherds run. 
 To sing their matins on the green hill's breast; 
 
 Flash the white sails from seaward in the west ; 
 And now the woodland songsters are begun 
 To fill the hollow heaven with music spun 
 From angel's dreams, in heavenly peace at rest. 
 
 Ah ! there are scenes and voices manifold 
 Of hamlet, farm, lake, orchard blossoming. 
 Beyond the falling temple's white facade! 
 
 Majestic towering in the blue and gold. 
 Ascends the city, man's poor offering 
 To God, for all the beauties yet untold. 
 
 51 
 
LOSS AND GAIN 
 
 In losing half our friend by dear Joe's marriage, 
 The bands divine 'twere sinful to disparage. 
 Our loss is happily his gain, and we, 
 Though tears may start, will all rejoice to see 
 The better half of him far happier, fairer, 
 And she, sometimes may deign to be the sharer 
 With us of mirth and brilliant converse blent — 
 And O the soul of song that heaven sent 
 To be our own. The flash of wit ; the gleam 
 Of genius, lost in things that only seem — 
 But why regrets, or future joys foretell? 
 "He's good fellow and 'twill all be well. " 
 
 MY LOST SAILOR LAD 
 
 O winds of the sea blowing shoreward — 
 Salt winds of the ultimate sea, 
 
 Hast never a heart-cheering foreword 
 From my sailor lad home-sent to me? 
 
 That day when on board be was hieing 
 He swore, as he kissed me good-bye, 
 
 That no maid, to the day of his dying, 
 But me could his true colors fly. 
 
 Alone on the foreland, far seaward 
 I watch as I watched, and I pray. 
 
 When I saw in the blue haze to leaward 
 His ship from my sight fade away. 
 
 Ah, the long dismal years I have waited- 
 Bleak, joyless, disconsolate years. 
 
 Beholding ships sail in deep-freighted, 
 'Mid welcoming bailings and cheers ! 
 
 52 
 
Till my eyes and my sad heart no longer 
 This watching and waiting can bear — 
 
 Ah, God, spare my sight — make me stronger! 
 Thy mercies abound everywhere. 
 
 Now from the shore comes rejoicing, 
 
 Now vocal the ocean with joy! 
 But no homeward bound mariner's voicing 
 
 A word of my lost sailor boy. 
 
 "IN TUNE" 
 
 To a lady, on reading a book which she had sent to the 
 author with a request that he give her his opinion of the 
 work. 
 
 If thou, dear friend, 
 
 Wouldst ever be in tune, 
 
 Singing as joyous as the birds in June, 
 
 With the great fact of heaven's infinity. 
 
 Be as ever thou art. 
 
 Whatever chance or change 
 
 May bring within thy life's terrestrial range. 
 
 Christ said, "Let children come to Me," 
 
 And so as little children come must we. 
 
 If come at all, to our inheritance. 
 
 Beauty is everywhere 
 
 And harmonies divine, 
 
 If with true spirit sense we hear, and see 
 
 Through eyes of faith, simple and happy, free 
 
 From vanities of those that shine, 
 
 In their own fleshly sight, and share 
 
 The attributes of "men gods " and decree 
 
 In sophisms trite the poor soul's destiny. 
 
 Of such, my friend, beware — 
 
 53 
 
l^he rose and violet blooms 
 
 Brighter in virgin soil, and shed perfumes 
 
 Broadcast along the valleys and the mears; 
 
 No garden flower was ever sweet or rare 
 
 As the wild rose beside the alpine flumes, 
 
 The finished opera the city hears 
 
 Is to the lark's wild song but meager cheer. 
 
 TO— 
 'Sing as the birds and streams do, just for the love of it." 
 
 Dear — you bid us sing as when 
 
 The gladsome "better days" were ours, 
 
 And with us wrought those vanished men 
 Through years of fruitful suns and showers 
 
 That filled our spring and summer days 
 With essences of song supernal 
 
 And garnished all our wintry ways 
 With boskages and flowers vernal. 
 
 Our spring's now gone, ere well begun 
 Your later northern singing season, 
 
 Dry are our streams, or only run 
 Sluggish their satumalian lees on. 
 
 Ah me, how grey our hills, and bare ! 
 
 Where late the poppy's vesture golden 
 And saffron primrose blossoms rare 
 
 To beauty bound us more beholden. 
 
 'Mid stubble field and withered grass 
 
 Still "Baby blue eyes," smiling at us, — 
 
 Looks sweetly up, Alas ! Alas ! 
 The dream is but an ignis fatus. 
 
 54 
 
Yet in our hearts we'll sing elate, 
 As all around on tree and cresting 
 
 The mocking bird sings to his mate 
 While she in blissful peace is nesting. 
 
 IN ALI'S IvAND 
 
 All that warm soft spring and summer the un- 
 clouded arch of blue 
 
 Heaven, serene and bright above us, daily bright 
 and brighter grew. 
 
 Ideal days and nights of stars 
 
 An argent moon beside, 
 
 Shot down their gold and silver bars 
 
 Upon the earth, whereon uprose on high 
 
 From valley, hamlet, hill, from moor and forest 
 wide. 
 
 From park and lawn and glen, such matchless 
 melody — 
 
 Such infinite choral song of birds, it seemed to me 
 
 That never lute or harp had come to heavenly 
 choir so nigh. 
 
 How beautiful the far land bloomed and blossom 
 
 ed plant and tree ; 
 From rosy bower and river side and o'er the 
 
 sounding sea 
 Came sailor's song and maiden's hymn — 
 In the palm grove's gorgeous show 
 We touched great All's garment hem 
 And in the radiant sunsets daily saw 
 The dusky white-robed caliph bending low 
 To kiss his holy ground by Obur's limpid brink. 
 And with his prostrate votaries to lave and drink 
 The chalice of their Soona God, and so fulfill the 
 
 law. 
 
 55 
 
Then full soon in the late autumn the parched 
 
 earth's gaping mouth 
 Cried aloud for rain, all beauty had vanished with 
 
 the drouth. 
 All song was hushed, the rivers dry, 
 No dews at eve or mom — 
 The burdened camel's startling cry, 
 The caliph's chalice dry as desert sand — 
 From all around came dying groans and wail 
 
 forlorn — 
 The scorching sun still burning pitiless. 
 It seemed that God had ceased the fallen race to 
 
 bless. 
 And all His quickening gifts and treasures held 
 
 fast in His hand. 
 
 "Ah, what fools were we to wander to this fatal 
 
 land in quest 
 Of wonders, dear!" groaned Ethna, her fallen 
 
 head upon my breast, 
 "Our poor she camel's now gone dry, 
 No sap in root or leaf 
 Is left. Ah, Nial, 'tis hard to die !" 
 "We shall not, love — take heart — have faith in 
 
 God!" 
 I kis't her pallid lips to soothe her fainting grief. 
 Anon, athwart the flaming sky a cloud 
 O'erspread, with flashing thunder pealing long 
 
 and loud 
 And poured the copious rain down on the laughing 
 
 pregnant sod. 
 
 66 
 
KRUGER AND ENGLAND 
 
 Said Chamberlain to Kniger, "I must make an 
 aid of you 
 That will raise me to the summit of my fame — 
 That will seat me on the wool sack as a Boer ought 
 to do." 
 And he sent him Redvers Buller to his shame. 
 He was not a duke, nor earl, nor yet a sergeant — 
 
 But a big brass-mounted general that came ! 
 And he swore by all that's great: "Now 'tis for- 
 ward ! No retreat. " 
 But Joubert knew 'twas bluff, the British game. 
 
 Said England unto Buller, — though at present 
 fighting shy, — 
 "I will send two hundred thousand men or 
 more. 
 Then you'll close in upon them on their kopjes by 
 and by 
 With hundreds to the burghers' half a score. " 
 It was no kid-glove parading sort of battle, 
 
 But batteries belching green hot lyddite flame 
 At the frowning ramparts raised by their God, 
 devoutly praised — 
 And the Boers never missing once their aim. 
 
 Said England unto Kruger. "You've had mira- 
 cles before — 
 Majuba hill stands topmost of them all, 
 But if you watch Sir Buller, he may show you 
 something more — 
 Colenso and Spion Kop were not so small. " 
 That's England's cock-sure way with weaker 
 nations — 
 
 57 
 
She serves all valiant foemen just the same, 
 For she thinks her mission still is to rob and slay 
 
 at will, 
 So 'tis done in God's and cheap progression's 
 
 name. 
 
 Said Kruger unto England: "You may slay our 
 soldiers all, 
 But they'll die Hke men with rifles in their hands 
 And then you'll find our women in the trenches, 
 last to fall. 
 With babes uopn their breasts, at your com- 
 mands!" 
 It was barbarous campaigning that would make 
 a Zulu blush, 
 And the Christian world was staggered at the 
 sight ; 
 But the Anglo-Saxon does it in the cause of pro- 
 gress — hush — 
 Doncha know the Anglo-Saxon's always right! 
 
 Said England to Lord Kitchener: "You let my 
 soldiers go ! 
 This costly war has lasted long enough; 
 Turn loose your thugs and cut- throats of Park 
 Lane and Rotten Row — 
 Austral bushmen — all your toughest of the 
 tough ; 
 They've no regard of wife, maid, child or mother, 
 
 They know no pity, fear of God, or shame. 
 Nor care what may betide, so their passion's grati- 
 fied— 
 They're the men that build my empire and my 
 
 fame. " 
 
 58 
 
They made a lord of Buller for his many brave 
 retreats — 
 For bidding White surrender Ladysmith ; 
 An earl they've made of Roberts for his burning 
 homestead feats, 
 And a dukedom falls to Kitchener forthwith — 
 For he starves the babes along of all the women, 
 And keeps alight the havoc-spreading flame. 
 So the wider to lay waste all the land in greater 
 haste, 
 Ere De Wet can block his ignominious game — 
 Knight, Lord, General, Duke, Commander — 
 But the everlasting cruelty's the same ! 
 
UEC 14 IS06 
 
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 018 602 714 
 
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