Class j:p„s_3^2_^ 
 
 Book_xIgE-Ci- 
 
 Copyright N°__l^-^_ 
 
 COPYRIGHT DEPOSIT. 
 
W. IRVEN LIVELY. 
 
CLOUD RIFTS 
 
 POEMS 
 
 BY 
 
 W. IRVEN LIVELY 
 
 M 
 
 PENTECOSTAL PUBLISHING CO., 
 LOUISVILIiK, Ky. 
 
UbrtARY ot OONurttSS' 
 t wo OoDiss Keccivei! | 
 
 jUN 29. laOB I 
 
 T635n 
 
 ipv ^* ^* •#• J* ^^ ^* *5* ^^ »r* «^* «^ *^ *^ V* •?• •S* «3' 
 
 Copyrighted. 1908 
 By W. Irven Lively. 
 
 jrjrjrK'»f8<'9fjfaf'if'K'j^'>f84''»f3^i*'>f" 
 
CLOUD RIFTS. 
 
 — To— 
 
 My Mother, 
 
 AV'hose influence, next to the Grac-e of God, has been 
 the greatest factor in shaping and controlling my 
 life, and to whose intense poetical temperament I 
 owe whatever of literary genins I may possess, this 
 volume is affectionately dedicated. 
 
PREFACE. 
 
 It has become almost a proverb that the American 
 people do not read poetry. There is much truth in 
 Dhis, although perhaps the fault lies partly with the 
 poetry as well as with the reading public. Knowing 
 the unenviable reputation the Muses have acquired 
 in our day, these verses are sent forth with consid- 
 erable apprehension lest they may chance upon evil 
 times. No one knows their faults better than does 
 the Author. He has wept over them as a parent 
 weeps over his erring children ^iiom he loves in 
 spite of their faults. The writing of them has 
 brought cheer and inspiration into many a dark day ; 
 and they are sent forth in the hope that the reading 
 ■of them may have a similar effect. If some heart 
 is encouraged, some life made better, some thought 
 ennobled by them the Author will feel well repaid. 
 
ADORATION. 
 
 God of the universe, 
 God of the whole; 
 God of the universe, 
 God of my soul; 
 God of all life, 
 God of all love, 
 God of my soul. 
 Who dweHest ahove ! 
 
 God of the ages, 
 
 God of all time, 
 
 God of eternity, 
 
 God only divine. 
 
 God of the present, 
 
 God of the past, 
 
 God of my soul, 
 
 While the future shall last. 
 
 1907. 
 
SAUL SOLITAIRE. 
 
 Book I. 
 
 The day had passed, and night had drawn its shades. 
 
 The dews had settled on Gilboa's brow 
 
 And left it wet with kisses of the night. 
 
 Evening breathed upon the fevered earth 
 
 And soothed her restless tossdngs. and she slept. 
 
 But on Gilboa's height, the wonted calm 
 
 Was broken by the tramp of armed men 
 
 And the elang of arms; and the spectral night-bird, 
 
 Flitting through the twilight on restless wing. 
 
 Startled, and broke his quavering note. 
 
 The jackal, bold in the thickening dusk, 
 
 Called to his prowling mate with sharper cry. 
 
 All day, long lines of weary, dusty men 
 
 Had crept like some huge serpent o'er the plain. 
 
 Where every city poured its chivalry, 
 
 Marshalled around the standard of King Saul. 
 
 All day the sun had looked upon the lines. 
 
 And hurled his spears of light against the shield 
 
 And coat of mail, until the eagle poised 
 
 And bent his head to watch the changing gleams, 
 
 And from his aery fastness challenged them. 
 
 Now evening had hushed the wild tumult 
 
 And brought repose, kind nurse to weary man. 
 
8 Oloud Rifts. 
 
 Below them lay thedr old time enemy, 
 
 Tlie Philistines, avIio, with undying hate, 
 
 Contended still for Dagon's ancient right, 
 
 Encamped within the famous Jezreel Plain, 
 
 The gateway of the East, and through winch led 
 
 The broad highway which joined the Orient 
 
 With Egypt and the life-producing Nile. 
 
 Through this broad pass, the winding caravan 
 
 Bore Egypt's golden grain and precious sweets 
 
 To Asia's barren climes, and carried back 
 
 The riches of the Oriental kings 
 
 To fill the coffers of the land of Ham. 
 
 Here, too, the nations met in sanguine fray. 
 
 When rivalry between the East and West 
 
 Broke out in open war. Assyria, 
 
 Persia, Egypt, Syria, Babylon, 
 
 And all the miglity nations. East and West, 
 
 Upon this plain had poured their noblest blood. 
 
 Here Sisera led his host against Israel, 
 
 When heaven's planets an their courses fought, 
 
 And against the oppressor turned their hands, 
 
 And tapped tjlie scales of justice to the right ; 
 
 And mighty Kishon, with indignation moved. 
 
 Forgot his ancient boundaries, and spread 
 
 A seething flood across the battle plain. 
 
 And locked the rushing of the chariot wheels 
 
 Until stern justice nerved a woman's hand 
 
 To rid the world of one proud tyrant more. 
 
 Oh Jezreel Plain ! What secrets dark and dread 
 
Saul Solitaire. 9 
 
 Lie hidden underneath thy tufted sward ! 
 
 What mysteries could tiliy rocky caverns solve, 
 
 Could they but break their silence, ages long, 
 
 And speak and tell what they have seen and heard ! 
 
 Battlefield of nations! tomb of ages! 
 
 Where kingdoms, born amid war's travailings, 
 
 Aro'se, blood-christened, o'er the trampled graves 
 
 Of rival ones that died to give them room. 
 
 If nature had not cleft the mountain chain 
 
 And flung ajar the gate that barred fclie way, 
 
 How much of history that had not been. 
 
 Once more the plain, altar to Avar's red god. 
 
 Was filled with victims for the sacrifice, 
 
 But on the battle eve, no rude alarm 
 
 Broke in upon the stillness of the night ; 
 
 But all was peaceful as the meads through which 
 
 The shepherd leads his flock at eventide. 
 
 With scented breatli returning to the fold. 
 
 The stars, the eyes of night, looked calmly down 
 
 And shed their silvery beams impartially. 
 
 Kissing the drooping face of friend and foe, 
 
 As if they sought to reconcile man's hate. 
 
 Naught broke the silence but the sentry's tramp, 
 
 Or one among the sleeping host who dreamed. 
 
 And in his dreams forgot his sword and shield. 
 
 And walked among Judea's fields again, 
 
 Or from his housetop watched the setting sun 
 
 And felt the soft caress of loving hands 
 
 Which he perchance would never feel again ; 
 
10 Cloud Rifts. 
 
 Or one whose mind with sterner thoughts engaged, 
 Dreamed of the morrow with its clash of arms, 
 And started up half sleeping, waking half; 
 And in the darkness groped to find his arms, 
 Tlien. slowly realizing that he dreamed, 
 Sank back again, and Avith a muttered prayer 
 Composed himself once more to troubled sleep. 
 Majestic silence brooded o'er the scene 
 Which, ere another day had told its course. 
 Would change to one of carnage and of blood! 
 
 Book II. 
 
 I>ut while his soldiers slept, King Saul was restless, 
 And kindly sleep refused to touch his eyes. 
 With fevered brow he tossed upon his couch 
 And thought of what the morrow held in store. 
 Then his mind would turn from thoughts of what 
 
 would be 
 To what had l)een. from the unknown to the known, 
 And Avander back with strange, resistless force, 
 Through long neglected vistas of the past. 
 To gather fragments of his 'by-gone life 
 And build them up in living images. 
 Sometimes before his fevered fancy rose 
 Visions of Gibeah and his early home, 
 And 'half forgotten faces clustered round. 
 And then the scene was changed, and once again 
 He seemed to feel the thrill of sacred awe 
 
iSaui Solitaire. 11 
 
 As Samuel poured the oil upon his head. 
 
 And then, in turn, cauie all his after life; 
 
 And as he brooded, anguish and remorse 
 
 Burned like a deadly fever in 'his soul. 
 
 The shadows round his couch pale phantoms seemed, 
 
 And in everj^ corner demons lurked and leered, 
 
 Until he dashed the cold drops from his brow, 
 
 And, springing' from his couch, with nervous hand 
 
 He grasped his spear — only to find them gone ; 
 
 Then peered in every corner of the tent, 
 
 And guasihed his teeth in rage and shook his spear, 
 
 And when he could not find them, shrieked aloud : 
 
 "Ha, coAvards! have you tied from me again? 
 
 Had you but form that I might follow you, 
 
 I'd chase you to your native hell again! 
 
 Cowards! that under cover of the night 
 
 Creep in to haunt and mock man's misery! 
 
 Could you not wait until I came to you. 
 
 Instead of seeking me before my time? 
 
 'Tis but a little while, could you not wait 
 
 And let me live in peace while I do live? 
 
 A curse upon your execrable shapes ! 
 
 A thousand furies seize your trembling forms 
 
 And scourge you back to torment terrible ! 
 
 But if you come again, I fear you not; 
 
 And you shall feel the wrath of one whose hand 
 
 Has not forgotten quite its old-time power!" 
 
 He ceased, and passed his hand across his brow 
 Like one half wakened from a troubled dream, 
 
12 Cloud Rifts. 
 
 And let the spear drop from his nerveless hand, 
 And sank with a shivering cry beside the couch 
 And tried to pray; then, frenzied, starting up, 
 He wildly cursed the God who wonld not hear; 
 Then hid his face within his hands and moaned : 
 "Oh, God! and was I born for this at last? 
 Why did the prophet come to Gibean 
 To seek a king among the sons of Kish? 
 I'd give my kingdom's scepter and my crown 
 If I could vv^ake and find that I had dreamed. 
 And all these weary years of crime and blood 
 Were but the idle phantasy of night, 
 And be a youth again in Gibeah, 
 And drink my sonl full of its peaceful rest 
 For just one day — one single, blissful day — ^ 
 Then breathe my life out with its setting sun. 
 
 Oh, how those long lost days now haunt my mind ! 
 
 When, in the pride and glow of manhood's dawn, 
 
 I led the bleating flocks across the hills, 
 
 Or sat beside the humble festal board 
 
 And listened to the tales my elders told, 
 
 Of wars and doings in the far off world. 
 
 Until my pulses thrilled witJh strange wild joy; 
 
 And out beyond the hills, my future life 
 
 Loomed misty on the distant horizon, 
 
 And in the womb of ray own consciousness 
 
 I felt the quick 'ning thrill of unborn greatness. 
 
 Crowns are too dear which cost the price of these; 
 
 And crooks for septers but a poor exchange. 
 
Saul Solitaire. 13 
 
 And oh, that day I never can forget 
 
 When Samuel poured the oil upon my head ! 
 
 I sometimes dream of it, and feel again 
 
 The thrill of holy awe which shook my frame 
 
 As through my hair the sacred oil crept doMOi, 
 
 And following the symbol's prophecy, 
 
 God's Spirit came in poAver upon me there, 
 
 And Saul ivas changed and found among the 
 
 prophets. 
 And when they sought me, hid among the stuff, 
 And led me, blushing, forth to crown me king, 
 I did not dream my life would come to this ; 
 For when I stood, head high above the crowd. 
 Half overwhelmed with awe and bashfulness. 
 And. 'mid the shouting of the multitude, 
 I felt the crown's cool touch upon my brow, 
 A surge of wild emotions swelled my heart, 
 And all my soul went out in one strong vow 
 To be a kingly king ! Oh empty vow ! 
 'Twas of the soul, and recked not of the flesh ! 
 For the soul may live in the future days. 
 But the flesh will revel in present joys. 
 
 'Tis strange that such an end should come 
 From such a fair, propitious setting out. 
 The path that leads to thrones is long and rough, 
 And many lose their way; and seldom one 
 Who turns the goal and can retrace his steps. 
 Strange is the texture of the human life. 
 
14 Ooud Rifts. 
 
 AVoven of good and ill, half black, half white ; 
 jMine has been mostly dark, witli few bright threads, 
 Deep dyed with iblood and stained with pride and 
 
 hate ; 
 For what I chose to be, played the harlot 
 With what I might have been — and gendered shame. 
 When once the cnrrent of a life is tnrned 
 Across the barren waste of selfish pride, 
 How soon a channel wears ! how swift it runs ! 
 How strong sin's gravitation draws the feet! 
 How easy to descend, how hard to climb. 
 A crisis comes in each and every life : 
 A point where man will turn, or never turn ; 
 A ragged precipice which breaks his path, 
 And once descend, he can not climb again. 
 And God's arm is too short to reach its depth. 
 I stood thus once and took the fatal stej) 
 When, in my impious rage and sacrilege, 
 I dared insult Jehovah — desecrate 
 The sacred rites and altars of his house. 
 And dyed the ei)hod red with priestly blood; 
 Nor stayed the sword for woman's suppliant tears, 
 Nor stopped to pity childhood's innocence 
 Until a city in its ruin smoked. 
 
 And from that time God left me to myself; 
 His Spirit turned away to come no more. 
 And God no longer hears; but when I pray 
 An evil spirit cometh up instead 
 And shuts me in with walls of flaming fire 
 
Saul Solitaire. 15 
 
 Which scorch my brow and seal my parched lips. 
 
 And in my dreams He no more speaks to me ; 
 
 But gruesome visions haunt the midnight hours, 
 
 And fiends with bloody ephods wrap me round 
 
 And strangle me until I gasp for breath — 
 
 And wake — and feel the blood upon ray hands ! 
 
 The urim no more speaks the will of (Jfod. 
 
 The priests, all save Abiathar, are dead ; 
 
 And he, escaping Doeg's bloody sword, 
 
 Has fled to David and divines for him. 
 
 No altar smoke ascends with priestly prayers 
 
 In all the realm — but for my enemy. 
 
 Thus hate will ever over-reach its blow 
 
 And wound itself witli the returning stroke. 
 
 The prophets no more dare to prophesy 
 
 Since Samuel died, the only one who dared 
 
 To brave ray Avrath and tell rae of my sins; 
 
 And he alone of all the earth I feared. 
 
 And Jonathan, the staff of my old age. 
 
 Has turned from me to aid the stranger's son — 
 
 Yea, Ood himself hath chosen David king! 
 
 'Tis well ; I do not need the help of man ; 
 And since (xod dwells too hig'h to hear my prayer, 
 Who blames me if I find some other means 
 To learn the hidden secrets of His will? 
 And if the faithless priests no more divine, 
 There are those who, with dark and curious arts, 
 Peep and mutter with the spirits of the dead 
 And learn the future quite as Avell as they. 
 
16 Cloud Rifts. 
 
 What matter how I learn, if I but know? 
 Whether a priest shall bring me word from God, 
 Or one a message from some other world? 
 If I but hear the message, what care I 
 Who is the messenger or whence he comes?" 
 
 A moment still he wavered, then arose 
 And summoned to his tent two officers ; 
 And when they came, reluctantly he spoke : 
 "Give me your counsel, men of Israel, 
 You know the rash uncertainties of war. 
 And that tomorrow brings the cla^ of arms, 
 And I w^ould know the secrets that it guards. 
 Now tell me, do you know of any one 
 Whose eyes can pierce beyond our narrow range, 
 And scan the features of the coming days 
 Ere our dull ears have even caught their tread? 
 Bring him, and he shall have a bag of gold." 
 
 The men stood silent, restless eyes downcast, 
 Servants and king alike confused and shamed. 
 Each thought the same, each guessed the others 
 
 thought. 
 Yet all three in embarrassed silence stood ; 
 Pride closed Saul's lips, fear made his courtiers 
 
 dumb. 
 "Know you of such an one?" he asked again. 
 Or Avhen I slew the bad to avenge the good 
 Was not one left ? One faithless priest escaped 
 From Doeg's hungry sword; might not one wntch 
 
Saul Solitaire. 17 
 
 By some dark magic spirit herself away, 
 And in some cavern hide her weazened face 
 And croon and mutter o'er her obscene rites?" 
 
 One of the men, emboldened, answered him : 
 
 "Near Endor, on Mount Hermon's further slope, 
 
 A woman lives who has, as I have heard, 
 
 The power to summon back departed souls, 
 
 And to perform strange and mysterious rites. 
 
 I question much its truth ; but be as it may, 
 
 A common soldier whiled the tediousness 
 
 Of the march today by marvelous tales 
 
 Of what himself had seen and heard while there. 
 
 It seems when sentence passed upon her art. 
 
 She fled from Endor. and at present dwells 
 
 In a certain cave, and carries on her trade 
 
 With those who seek her in her safe retreat. 
 
 "And know you then the place?" broke in the king. 
 
 "I know it well, for as I passed that way 
 
 I once took refuge there from noonday's heat, 
 
 And once, benighted, rested there till morn; 
 
 But whether she of whom the soldier spoke 
 
 Now makes her dwelling there, I do not know." 
 
 ' ' Guide me the way and we will go and see ; 
 
 But bring me first a common soldier's garb. 
 
 And dress yourself the same." 
 
 They brought the robes, 
 And stripped him of the signs of royalty. 
 And robed him in the garments coarse and worn. 
 
18 Cloud Rdfts. 
 
 He siglied. and to his brow the hot blood rushed, 
 As outraged manhood's last expiring spark 
 A moment liamed — ere it Avent out in night. 
 
 Thus robed, they passed in silence from the tent 
 
 And picked their way across the silent bivouac 
 
 Until they reached the border of the camp, 
 
 Where scattered sentries leaned upon tlieir spears 
 
 Or in silence paced their weary beats. 
 
 They stopped before the sentry's leveled spear, 
 
 And one of Saul's attendants spoke his name; 
 
 Like a flash the spear was grounded at his side, 
 
 And the soldier stood before his officer 
 
 And in silence awaited his command. 
 
 "You are a soldier faithful to your trust, 
 
 As I have often proved you in the past. 
 
 And tonight I would test you once again. 
 
 Dressed in this rough disguise we ])ass the lines, 
 
 These two. my fellow officers, and I — 
 
 To note the watch fires of the enemy, 
 
 Compute their strength, see how they lie encamped, 
 
 And form our battle plans accordingly. 
 
 Go now and take your stand before my tent 
 
 And send your comrade here to take your place. 
 
 While we are gone if anyone inquires. 
 
 Say thus to them till we return again; 
 
 And when, before tomorrow's setting sun, 
 
 The ravished spoils of victory we divide. 
 
 You shall not lack the portion due to you." 
 
Saul Solitaire. 19 
 
 The soldier, with obeisance, answered him : 
 
 "I count it but a favor to obey; 
 
 And may Israel's God attend your steps, 
 
 Give you success, and bring you back in peace;" 
 
 Then turned and left them to pursue their way. 
 
 And Israel's king, divinely chosen. 
 
 And crowned with more than earthly diadems, 
 
 Disguised, stole forth at night, like a common thief, 
 
 To counsel with an outcast criminal 
 
 Upon A\^iose head himself had set a price ! 
 
 Down Gilt)oa's slope, across tlu> narrow vale, 
 
 And up the rugged steeps of Hermon's side 
 
 They took their way, skirting the hostile camp 
 
 AVhich vexed the solitude of Jezreel Plain. 
 
 Sometimes a narrow footpath led the way, 
 
 Then growing dim across the rock strewn waste, 
 
 It disappeared, and left no visible trace. 
 
 A stranger would have wandered through the night 
 
 In hopeless searcli to find the path again; 
 
 But to these men. upon their native hills. 
 
 It mattered not, for with unerring eye 
 
 They took their course by landmarks or the stars. 
 
 Sometimes across a glade of fertile soil 
 
 Where tall trees interlocked their miglity arms 
 
 Like giants wrestling on a battlefield. 
 
 And with dark shadows filled the space beneath, 
 
 Except where, through the living canopy, 
 
 The moon peeped in and dropped a patch of light. 
 
 Again, past granite peaks and barren Avastes, 
 
20 Cloud Rifts. 
 
 Where tufts of wiry grass aud hardy flowers 
 
 Stretched up tiptoe among the lifeless rocks 
 
 As if to view the wild monotony. 
 
 And then past frowning cliffs, and canyons deep, 
 
 Where one imisstep would hurl the traveler 
 
 To an awful death within the black abyss 
 
 With darkness walled up to its ragged edge, 
 
 And where the night wind, sighing through its 
 
 depths, 
 Low whispered of the terrors hidden there. 
 But vain the warning to tliese mountaineers. 
 For with steps which pressed the treacherous path 
 As firmly as the feet of a mountain hind, 
 And with hearts which loved the wild adventures 
 Of border warfare and the soldier's life, 
 They nothing thought of fear; but occupied 
 With other thoughts, in silence strode along 
 Until between them and Gilboa's camp 
 A weary two hours journey stretched away 
 And Little Hermon reared his head between. 
 
 Book III. 
 
 The moon had rolled her silver chariot wheels 
 Upward along her star-paved path of light 
 Until, the zenith reached, she paused to rest 
 Ere she descended to the western sea. 
 Her brilliant glory dazzled all the stars 
 Until those nearest closed their blinded eyes 
 And could not look upon their sovereign's face. 
 
Saul Solitaire. - 21 
 
 Her mellow light came pulsing down through ,spaoo 
 And dropped a silvery mantle o'er the earth; 
 And silent nature reverent bowed her head 
 Like a throng that waits the benediction. 
 Night, moved by the influenee of the hour, 
 And half repentant, raised her somber mask, 
 And drew her sable skirts aside until 
 The light crept sportive through her ragged train. 
 
 Majestic nature, fresh from God's right hand! 
 Man, blinded, moves among thy sacred shrines. 
 Pursuing, all unmoved, his own designs. 
 And knows not that he treads on sacred sod, 
 Nor sees thy rustic altars flame Avith CTod, 
 Nor catches the gleam of thy mystie wand. 
 He enters thy temple with careless tread, 
 And stands in thy presence with covered head. 
 And goes his way, his sacrilege complete. 
 And knoAvs not he has trod with wanton feet 
 Wliere angels wrapped in adoration stand. 
 
 So moved these men through nature's rustic wild. 
 Oblivious to all exeept their errand. 
 The scene grew wilder still as they advanced. 
 For here dumb solitude held sovereign sway, 
 Rarely disturbed by man's intruding foot, 
 For nature nothing had displayed to tempt 
 Man's fancy, unless he sought to lose himself 
 From human eyes in nature's hermitage. 
 Here Hermon's bare and shelving terraces 
 
22 Cloud Rifts. 
 
 Are dotted o'er with eaves, wliioli ages past 
 Have hollowed ont with unremitting toil, 
 Affording slielter for a motley crowd 
 Of ))easts and birds and loathed creeping things 
 Which, from choice or from necessity. 
 Avoid the ligiit or shun man's cruel eye. 
 Here tlie lion dreams away the tedious day, 
 And from his den prowls forth at fall of night 
 And flings a hapless creature o'er his neck 
 And bears it off in triumph to his mate. 
 Here the sly jackal finds a safe retreat. 
 The grim hyena, rank from ghoulish raids, 
 Hides his hideous form from light of day, 
 And 'buries all his gruesome secrets here. 
 The solemn oaVI, and Aveird, uncanny bat 
 Choose out a darkened habitation 'here. 
 And here too. men, who bear the mark of Cain 
 And wander from the face of God and man. 
 Select a home among the beasts of prey. 
 And find more ])ity than among their kind. 
 
 At length, 'by devious route, they reached a cave, 
 Half hidden by the rocks and growth of shrubs; 
 Within this mean a'oode, half cave, half hut. 
 The witch of Endor lived and plied her trade. 
 They paused before the entrance to the hut. 
 And with a spear hilt on the clumsy door 
 Announced their presence to the occupant. 
 As the hollow sound re-echoed from within. 
 Their wari'ior liearts. inured to earthlv danger. 
 
Saul Solitaire. 23 
 
 Shrank with dread of the supernatural. 
 
 Before the creaking- door had ceased its din, 
 
 The holt was drawn and it was pushed ajar, 
 
 And through the narrow, guarded aperture 
 
 A weazened face, with bead-like eyes, peered out 
 
 And closely scanned the unbidden visitors 
 
 Who stood like statues in the paie moonlight. 
 
 At length the stubborn door was pushed aside, 
 
 Whose creaking hinges groaned a loud protest, 
 
 As if reluctant to disclose to view 
 
 The secrets that tliey guarded jealously, 
 
 And an old hag, wrinkled and crooked with age, 
 
 In a crooning voice, bade them enter in; 
 
 And, as they stooped to pass the low arched door, 
 
 A strange resistless chill crept over them, 
 
 And night seemed darivcned by a deeper gloom 
 
 Which (pienched the ))U)0]ilight's mellow radiance. 
 
 The soldier's practiced eye swept around the hut 
 
 And in a glance observed the furniture. 
 
 A fire of fagots burned upon the hearth 
 
 And dimly lighted up the wretched room; 
 
 And as the flickering flames arose and fell. 
 
 Now flaring up, now sinking down again. 
 
 And wavering in wild uncertainty. 
 
 As if they reached to grasp some firm supi:)ort 
 
 To lift them from their Avrithing agony, 
 
 The shadows chased eacli other round the room 
 
 And hid themselves in the darkened corners. 
 
 Like troops of goblins playing hide and seek. 
 
24 Cloud Rifts. 
 
 And when the old hag bent above the hearth 
 And laid fresh fuel on the greedy flames, 
 They mounted up with hoarse approving cries 
 And darted fiery glances round the room 
 And showed the implements of her witchcraft : 
 Rattles made of gourds; bladders filled with air; 
 And skins of animals, with beaks and claws, 
 Some rudely mounted, which gazed with glaring 
 
 eyes, 
 Blinkless and fixed, upon the A^sitore; 
 Bunches of pungent herbs with healing poAver; 
 Rings and amulets bound with magic charms ; 
 And wands with power to call the dead again, 
 And skins of snakes Avoven in deadly spells. 
 These mingled with the common furniture 
 In weird contrast and wild confusion, 
 And made a fit background for witchcraft's rites. 
 
 Upon a rustic bench the three men sat 
 And waited each for the other to speak; 
 At a loss how to begin their errand. 
 At length the woman turned to her visitors, 
 And with a searching glance of her keen eye, 
 Which caught and held in thrall their restless gaze 
 And seemed to penetrate and read their thoughts. 
 Asked: "Why do you wander o'er the barren wilds 
 At dead of night when earth is Avrapped in sleep, 
 And rule is given to the beasts of prey; 
 While in the woodland dells the satyrs dance, 
 And in the moonlight troops of fairies flit 
 
Saul Solitaire. 25 
 
 And drive the witches and their retinues 
 Of evil spirits from the peasant's home, 
 And hover round their hidden rendezvous 
 And ravel out the threads of all their spells? 
 Perchance you are belated travelers 
 O'ertaken by the night, without a guide. 
 And lost amid the unfamiliar scenes. 
 You seek for food and shelter for the night." 
 
 The witch spoke cautiously, to sound her guests, 
 For rough disguise could not deceive her eye 
 Nor hide the jirincely bearing of ithe men ; 
 And fearing that they came at Saul's command, 
 As spies, to hale her t# a witch's fate, 
 Although surrounded by the implements 
 Of her dark craft, she feigned her innocence 
 Until she learned the errand of the men. 
 
 "Nay, woman," answered Saul impatiently, 
 
 "You err; we are not wandering travelers. 
 
 Two hours ago we left Saul's sleeping camp. 
 
 On Mount Gilboa, where his army lies; 
 
 For gloomy doubts and fears harassed our minds, 
 
 And fickle fortune's ghost haunted our dreams, 
 
 Until at length we bade farewell to sleep 
 
 And, one by one, stole through the sentry lines 
 
 To seek for one wdio, by familiar arts, 
 
 Calls back to earth the spirits of the dea^d. 
 
 And bribes to speech the silent tongue of fate. 
 
 The one w'ho will lay tomorrow's secrets bare, 
 
26 Cloud Rifts. 
 
 Tell us war's fortune and our destined fates, 
 S'ball have as a reward a purse of gold." 
 
 Her sharp eyes glittered with a hungry light, 
 
 As if already fancy flung in them 
 
 The reflected iluster of the promised gold, 
 
 And o'er her face contending passions played; 
 
 Avarice strove with fear, caution with greed. 
 
 Half defiantly, half imploringly 
 
 She searched the faces of the men to read 
 
 Tlie index of the folded leaves of thought; 
 
 And reassured in part, she compromised. 
 
 And half denying, half confessing said : 
 
 "King Saul has put the witches all to death 
 
 And placed a ban uj)on familrar arts ; 
 
 And if, by chance, one yet remains alive, 
 
 Why should she put her life into your hands, 
 
 And send you, as witnesses of her guilt, 
 
 To pour your tales into the ears of Saul?" 
 
 "Nay. fear us not good woman." Saul replied, 
 ''For we as honest soldiers seek your aid; 
 And as the God of Israel lives, I sw«ar 
 This never shall be known beyond this door. 
 Would one, m-Iio, at tomorrow's sun goes forth 
 To brave the fortunes of uncertain war, 
 Perjure his soul, which, ere the setting sun 
 ]\Iay pass to meet the God by whom he swears?" 
 
 *''Tis well;" the woman answered reassured. 
 
Saul Solitaire. 27 
 
 "Whom shall I sumnion up to speak Avith you?" 
 The king's voice trembled as he answered her: 
 "Call up for me the proj^het Samuel." 
 
 The woman started. l)ut made no reply, 
 
 But slowiy hobbled to a closet door. 
 
 Rudely set within the hovel wall. 
 
 And donned a strange, fantastic robe and cowl. 
 
 The sable cloak was decked from top to toe, 
 
 Wit)h weird adornments — keys to magic charms : . 
 
 Festoons, composed of claws and beaks of birds, 
 
 Snakes' heatls. and feet of toads and lizard's tails, 
 
 And all the gruesome trophies of her art 
 
 "Which she levied from water, earth and air. 
 
 On either shoulder perched a bat's dark wings; 
 
 Around the cowl a viper's skin was coiled; 
 
 A girdle, of the fox's ibushy pride. 
 
 Gathered the strange regalia to her form. 
 
 Her weazened face and glittering, snaky eyes, 
 
 Peering and blinking from its sable folds, 
 
 Seemed scarcely human in the dim firelight. 
 
 She might herself have passed for a spirit 
 
 Conjured from some dark realm to visit earth. 
 
 These preparations made, she took a gourd, 
 Carved with a curious network of designs. 
 And hobbled to where the hovel's inner wall 
 Seemed to mark the limit of the cave. 
 And swung a secret door, w'hicli opened back 
 And showed a grotto, with dark gaping mouth, 
 
28 Cloud Rifts. 
 
 Leading with sharp descent into the earth. 
 
 Vainly the eye might strain and fret itself 
 
 To sound its depths ; beyond a little space 
 
 Where the firelight wrestled with the shapeless night 
 
 And lucid shadows danced against the walls, 
 
 The darkness stood congeailed and mocked the eye; 
 
 And curious fancy, only, followed it. 
 
 And traced the tortuous windings of its course 
 
 Through subterranean chambers of the earth. 
 
 The woman knelt before the open door 
 And in a crooning voice began to chant; 
 And while her body swayed in measured rhythm, 
 She sliook the gourd m rude accompaniment. 
 But suddenly a strange spell fell on her : 
 The chanting ceased ; she seemed like one trans- 
 fixed, 
 With staring eyes glued to the passage way. 
 From whose black depths there came a hollow voice. 
 The woman turned in quick alarm and cried : 
 "Why have you decieved me? for you are Saul." 
 
 The king half started up in his surprise, 
 Recovered himself, and answered eagerly: 
 "Fear not, good woman — I have sworn to you; 
 What have .you seen which our dull eyes could not?" 
 "I saw," the Avoman answered solemnly, 
 "A god-like form ascending from the earth. 
 As if the sons of God came up from thence. 
 
Saul Solitaire. 29 
 
 Strange sight ! Do spirits of the sainted dead 
 
 E'er walk in hell, and tread this passage way 
 
 Where evil spirits wont to carnival? 
 
 Or has our Father's bosom grown too small 
 
 To nurse his children, that some must wander 
 
 About the earth to watch their grass^grown graves, 
 
 And gaze, with death-stil'led eyes, on those who live, 
 
 Until the horror-smitten blood turns cold 
 
 And creeps, benumbed, along its icy course? 
 
 For years this dark and winding labyrinth 
 
 Has been the gateway to the realms of death ; 
 
 But never has its cold, damp floor been pressed 
 
 By feet fresh strayed from hills of paradise, 
 
 Nor its silence broken by voice from lips 
 
 Still moist and warm with patriarchal kiss." 
 
 "Peace! woman!" cried the king, "What is his 
 
 form? 
 Ilovr looks he to the eye? how comes he up?" 
 Strangely as if she muttered in a dream. 
 The woman said: "An old man 'cometh up;" 
 A prophet's robe is girded to his form; 
 His snow-white beard sweeps low across his breast ; 
 His bony fingers twine about a. staff 
 Which bears his age-bent form; his shaggy brows 
 Frame in his eyes like ashes round a coal." 
 " 'Tis he! 'Tis Samuel!" broke in the king, - 
 And with a shriek he fell upon his face. 
 His companions hid their faces in their hands, 
 And waited, terror-stricken, for the end. 
 
30 Cloud Rifts. 
 
 A moment, silence reigned within the (-ave. 
 
 The smothered hreathing of the men alone 
 
 Told life was there. A moment's strained suspense, 
 
 Such as the traveler fee*ls, who. hastening 
 
 To find a shelter from the coming storm, 
 
 A moment pauses, with abated breath, 
 
 And heai^s, above the beating of his heart, 
 
 The heavy tread of the pursuing storm. 
 
 And feels its fury ere it reaches him ; 
 
 One moment, while the wheels of time seemed locked 
 
 And would not move again — and all Avas still; 
 
 The next, and a voice, that through the silence 
 
 Cut like a knife, addressed itself to Saul : 
 
 "Why have you thus disturbed my peaceful rest, 
 
 And summoned me from paradise to earth? 
 
 Did I not till the measure of my days 
 
 And count the appointed years, 'three score and ten, 
 
 Through childhood's innocence and manhood's 
 
 strength. 
 And pluck the tiowiu's that grew in life's green 
 
 spring. 
 And bind its summer sheaf, and glean among 
 Its autumn aftermath till wintry age 
 Bleached its tints and struck its frost into my veins? 
 Did I not Aveep my tears, and smile my smiles. 
 And drain life's mingled cup of bitter-sweet 
 And press death's rancid dregs that settled there? 
 Did I not bid farewell to earthly things, 
 The epilogue to life's long drama said. 
 And leave the stage when death's dark curtain fell? 
 
Saul Solitaire. 31 
 
 Why shovild I mix again in its turmoil? 
 Has earth's living family grown too small, 
 That you rob her graves to replenish it ? 
 Wliy have you thus disquieted my soul?" 
 
 "Father Sanrael," groaned the wretched king, 
 "I called you up for counsel in my need. 
 Philistia camps against me in Jezreel, 
 And I am sorely pressed on every side. 
 God is departed and will not hear my prayer, 
 Nor answer me in dreams as once He did; 
 The sacred ephod no more speaks His will. 
 Thou hast been to me as the word of God ; 
 Pity and give me counsel once again." 
 
 Coldly and solemnly the answer came: 
 
 "If God has east you off why come to me? 
 
 Am I, a man, more merciful than God ? 
 
 Or if I would how could I give you aid ? 
 
 Wlien I was with you did you heed my voice? 
 
 Or would you if I gave you counsel now? 
 
 No, 'tis too late! your proud, rebellious heart 
 
 Has alienated you from God and hope 
 
 And left no place of penitence to you. 
 
 And God has rent the scepter from your hand. 
 
 And barred Saul's house forever from the throne. 
 
 And chosen Jesse's son to fill your room. 
 
 And to his seed the kingdom shall be sure ; 
 
 Nor shall the scepter pass from David's line 
 
 Till Shiloh comes to reign forevermore. 
 
32 Cloud Rifts. 
 
 Judgment no longer stays at mercy's plea, 
 And ere the gloaming of another day, 
 You and your sons shall be with me in death; 
 And on Gilboa's heights the beasts of prey 
 Shall with the vultures share their lavish feast, 
 While Dagon's fanes with incense shall be dim." 
 Tlie voice abrupty ceased, and silence reigned. 
 A moment, every breathless listener 
 Waited the next word half expectantly, 
 And fancied that he heard the vibrant tread 
 Of ghostly feet, and garment's rustling sigh. 
 Go wandering down the cavern's winding course; 
 And from its gloom a breath was wafted 'back 
 Pregnant with musty odors of the tomb. 
 
 The witch arose and put her robe aside. 
 
 Then turned to Saul, \Vlio lay upon the floor. 
 
 The awful strain had been too much to bear: 
 
 An all day fast, a weary sleepless nig'ht, 
 
 A midnight journey, and this interview 
 
 Had snapped the moorings of his tensioned nerves 
 
 And swept his nature out beyond control 
 
 Into a fit of wild hysteria. 
 
 The woman feared lest harm should come to him 
 
 While in her hut, and blame be laid on her. 
 
 And bent o 'er him with reassuring words : 
 
 "Behold your handmaid has obeyed your voice 
 
 And put her life in jeopardy for this ; 
 
 Now rise that I may give you meat and drink 
 
 To bring you strength again ere you depart." 
 
Saul Solitaire. 33 
 
 But Saul refused, and motioned her away. 
 But when the first wild storm of grief was passed, 
 There came a calm; and when his officers 
 Entreated liim, he let them lift him up ; 
 And when the woman brought a hasty meal, 
 He sat and ate with relish of the food, 
 Then quickly rose, and, with his officers. 
 Took leave, and passed again into t'he night. 
 
 They turned their steps in silence toward the camp, 
 
 And nothing save the tramp of armed heels 
 
 Was heard, harsh grating on the flinty rocks; 
 
 And in the still, oppressive calm, the sound 
 
 Smote in harsh monotony upon the ear. 
 
 Until the senses came to loathe the strain 
 
 And long for that would break the tedium, 
 
 Which, in the silence, was intensified. 
 
 But no one wished to speak; and if he had, 
 
 Knew not Avliere to begin or what to say. 
 
 The scenes which they had witnessed in t'he hut, 
 
 By tacit understanding eacli one shunned; 
 
 And to have spoken on some other theme 
 
 Would have been still more awkward than silence. 
 
 Each felt the harsli constraint placed on his lips, 
 
 And wished himself alone to analyze 
 
 His thoughts. Each started at his comrade's step. 
 
 And his own shadow trode too closely on 
 
 His heels; and each one breathed a sigh of relief 
 
 When they neared the pickets of the sleeping camp. 
 
 Here, as they paused to vieAV the scene, Saul turned 
 
34 Cloud Rifts. 
 
 To them and with a haughty gesture said: 
 "Let this night's scene T^e kept between us three; 
 As I have placed full confidence in you, 
 Keep faith 'with me as you have done before ;" 
 Then, ere the men could make replj', strode on. 
 
 Book IV. 
 
 The eastern sky was tinctured with the dawn, 
 "When through the sentry lines they made their way 
 And hastened to their tents for short repose. 
 The dying night shrank back as if abashed. 
 And drew the curtains round his somber couch 
 And gazed with garish eyes upon the day. 
 The moon, still riding down her western course, 
 Turned pale, o'ertaken in the realms of day, 
 And drove her chariot furiously, 
 In haste to shelter in the friendly sea. 
 One by one the stars grew dim — and then went out ; 
 Like drowsy children who, with folded hands, 
 Have said their prayers and closed their drooping 
 
 eyes. 
 All nature with a pleasant sigh awoke. 
 The Orient swung back her crimson gates. 
 Dashed with the golden dust from Phoebus' car. 
 And through the portals swept the fiery steeds 
 And glided upward on their glowing course. 
 Fickle Nature flung before Day's feet 
 The jeweled drops, gift of his rival Night, 
 Which she had worn in presence of the moon, 
 
Saul Solitaire. 35 
 
 And hailed liim king with lips that trembled still 
 Prom maiden kisses of night's sovereign. 
 
 The haughty monarch launched his shafts of light 
 
 In blinding showers upon the sleeping camp. 
 
 The dreaming soldier fenced his wounded eyes 
 
 And siglied, as back upon his waking mind 
 
 The tide of life bore in its drift of care 
 
 And smoothed the sand-built figures of his dreams. 
 
 And soon the camp was all astir wnth life : 
 
 Men ran and called and laughed and talked and 
 
 sang ; 
 Some bathed their faces in the near-by stream; 
 Some ate, some prayed, while others mended arms, 
 Some sat apart in little circled groups, 
 And gossiped of the host encamped below, 
 Or talked of home and loved ones far away. 
 
 But soon the herald trumpet sounded out, 
 
 And stern-faced officers passed through the camp, 
 
 And sharp commands cut through confusing sounds 
 
 And deftly severed the entangling threads 
 
 And in a web of silence wove them all; 
 
 And presently, in ever-deepening files. 
 
 By tribes and cities marshalled in their ranks, 
 
 They stood awaiting Saul's inspection. 
 
 Dressed in rich armour, presently' he came. 
 And shouts of wild applause in greeting rose. 
 But as he passed in silence down the line 
 
36 Cloud Rifts. 
 
 They died in murmurs of astonishment, 
 
 Struck dead and trampled down beneath the look 
 
 Upon his face, and silence followed him ; 
 
 And Avhile those on before caught up the shout, 
 
 Those left 'behind him held their breath in awe. 
 
 His face was haggard, and his bloodless lips 
 
 Were tightly drawn across his clenched teeth ; 
 
 His blood-shot eyes, beneath his lowering brows, 
 
 Burned like coals in a forge-fanned heat, which blind 
 
 The gaze, and roved with feverish restlessness 
 
 From face to face, but would not fix their glance. 
 
 When his task was done and, with his officers. 
 
 He disappeared within his tent again, 
 
 A murmur rose and swelled along the line. 
 
 The sharp shrill buzz of eager questioning: 
 
 ** Think you the evil spirit troubles him?" 
 
 ''I fear it does." "Saw you his face?" "I did." 
 
 ' ' Such look I never saw in human eyes. ' ' 
 
 " 'Tis not the evil spirit rests on him. 
 
 For then his face is gloomy and downcast. 
 
 And his eyes are dull, or lit with sudden wrath 
 
 To suit his changing moods. iSometimes he sits 
 
 In moody silence, recognizing none. 
 
 Brooding, as sullen as a chastened boy. 
 
 Sometimes imearthly fears possess his mind. 
 
 And torments wring his frame, and he moans and 
 
 weeps. 
 Again, a blaze of anger fires his eyes, 
 And his strong nature wrestles with the sprite 
 
Saul Solitaire. 37 
 
 Until his strength is gone and, overcome, 
 
 He sinks into a trance resembling death. 
 
 Marked you his face? he looks not so to-day." 
 
 "Methiuks that look within his eye bodes ill 
 
 To him who crosses steel with him to-day. 
 
 That look would batter at the gates of hell 
 
 And offer battle to the fiend himself." 
 
 "You speak the truth," a veteran replied, 
 
 "I never saw that look within his eyes 
 
 But once before, when in his train I fought 
 
 At Ja'besh Gilead with the Ammonites, 
 
 When through their armoured ranks he hewed a 
 
 path. 
 Slippery with 'blood, and left their dead 
 In winrows piled, like swatlis of fallen grain. 
 God only grant he fights to-day as then!" 
 
 Meantime the camp below was all astir 
 With preparations f(n' the coming strife. 
 Horsemen, with mettled steeds and richly housed, 
 Pricked in and out among the scattered squads 
 And molded them into the battle line. 
 A low, deep murmur of confused soands 
 Olimbed from the valley up the mountain slope 
 And swelled and ebbed upon the morning air : 
 Quick, sharp commands, but indistinctly heard, 
 Drowned by the shrill impatient neigh of steeds ; 
 The vibrant rumble of the trampling feet; 
 The hollow clang of arms, steel striliing steel ; 
 And trumpet blasts that rose, clear toned and shrill. 
 
38 Cloud Rifts. 
 
 To cut their way through all opposing sounds. 
 And 'mid the leafless forest of tall spears 
 And nodding plumes and garments various hued. 
 The cold, bright glint of steel flashed in and out 
 Where hungry War half bared his whetted fangs. 
 
 Slowly the 'battle line, in bright array, 
 
 Like some vast wing swept out across the plain, 
 
 Then lifted to the ever steepening slope. 
 
 Saul stood, surrounded by his chosen guard, 
 
 And leaned upon his spear and watched the scene; 
 
 But when he saw that dark portentous wing 
 
 With steady stroke beat slowly up the heights, 
 
 He gave a signal to his trumpeteer, 
 
 Who launched a 'blast upon the mountain air 
 
 Which set the echoes calling far and wide ; 
 
 And, with a tread which shook the solid earth, 
 
 The heavy line moved down the mountain side. 
 
 Imposing spectacle, when armies meet. 
 To see the swaying, living lines of men, 
 While the bounding pulse keeps time with eager 
 
 feet. 
 Rush on, with nodding plumes and banners gay, 
 To mingle in the ghastly feast of death ! 
 
 The ibowmen, sheltered by the heavy ranks, 
 Sped their spiteful shafts unerringly; 
 And here and there a gap, which quickly closed, 
 Told where thev bore their bitter message home. 
 
Saul Solitaire. 39 
 
 Then suddenly the royal trumpeteer 
 
 A wild defiant battle paean raised, 
 
 Which breathed the spicy freedom of the hills 
 
 And the wild daring of the cataract. 
 
 The other trumpeteers caught up the note 
 
 And hurled it down the line ; and as it went, 
 
 Before its blast the moving forest bowed, 
 
 And with a shout which drowned the clash of arms, 
 
 "Jehovah with us! God of Israel's host!" 
 
 Witli leveled spears, the eager soldiers charged. 
 
 Philistia's bowmen, taken unawares, 
 
 Were hurled like chaff upon the foremost files ; 
 
 And still the undulating line swept on 
 
 To crash unbroken on the solid ranks. 
 
 Now proud Philistia show thy vaunted strength! 
 
 Now where is Dagon with his scaly form? 
 
 You'll need the aid of all your gods to stand 
 
 When those two lines of flashing spears shall meet. 
 
 One moment, down the momi'tain side they swept. 
 
 An oscillating line of steel in front. 
 
 That like the whitened crest of billows gleamed; 
 
 The next, and on Philistia's rock they broke, 
 
 And dashed on high the shattered crest of steel ; 
 
 And splintered spears and riven shields and helms 
 
 And fragments rudelj' torn from coats of mail, 
 
 A moment floated on the seething tide — 
 
 Then sank; and from the living wave beneath 
 
 Shot up the cold, blue gleam of saber steel. 
 
40 Cloud Rifts. 
 
 No human power could meet that shock and stand! 
 
 Philistia's reeling ranks broke and fell back 
 
 In groups upon the line of chariots 
 
 Drawn up across the level of the plain, 
 
 And sheltered thus, reformed their 'broken ranks, 
 
 And, fenced behind the moving wall, advanced. 
 
 And in their turn broke through Judea's lines. 
 
 But Saul drew up his scattered troops again 
 Upon the rising ground, too rough and steep 
 To deploy the chariots, and waited there. 
 And even yet the hardy mountaineers 
 Might have triumphed o'er the dwellers of the plain, 
 Had not Heaven held the balances that day. 
 For man may challenge haiman might and win ; 
 But who can fight with God and not go down? 
 
 The foe crept slowly iip the mountain side 
 
 And pressed Saul's line, which slowly gave the 
 
 ground, 
 But step 'by step, and fought for every inch. 
 And high above the swaying, struggling mass 
 Nodded Saul's crest among the foremost ranks. 
 And where the fight was thickest, there his spear 
 Made ragged rents; and, like a maddened fiend. 
 He flung himself upon the bucklered ranks, 
 And l)rushed aside their steel like stubble straws. 
 And, with a seeming more than mortal might. 
 Bore down the standing ranks and left great gaps 
 Piled up with dead. In vain the bravest chiefs 
 
Saul Solitaire. 41 
 
 Opposed his way and hedged his path with steel; 
 No hand could stay, no weapon strike him down. 
 He knew that death kept tryst with him that day ; 
 That, ere the sun had touched the western hills, 
 His sun would set in darkness and in blood. 
 Goaded by vengeful thoughts and wild remorse, 
 He followed death and with a proud disdain 
 Defied him; yet by some strange fate he lived. 
 While others died whose death was not foretold. 
 And all that day pale Death was at his side, 
 The poised dart trembling in his shadowy hand; 
 But still he stayed the blow and let him live 
 Until, his fall by his own hand avenged, 
 His kingly blood with royal foeman's mixed. 
 And many a widov\' wept at Dagon's shrine. 
 And trembling, cursed the day that king Saul died. 
 On that last day he Avas a king again ! 
 He flung as'ide the evil spell at last. 
 And, all its cringing, cowardly nature gone. 
 He raised his head once more above the crowd, 
 As in the other <lays, and died a king! 
 
 But here and there his ragged 'battle line. 
 Pierced through, fell back in wild disordered rout; 
 ITntil at length the tangled line gave way, 
 And hopeless panic seized the broken ranks 
 And swept them madly up the mountain side. 
 But at the center still Saul's guard stood firm. 
 And massed around their king fought stubbornly. 
 And Saul, his armour stained with dust and gore, 
 
42 Cloud Sifts. 
 
 His long spear dripping blood from point to hilt, 
 His shield with gashes rent, his plume shorn off, 
 Still fought; and fighting, knew he fought in vain. 
 And death was everywhere; and o'er the field, 
 War's demons reveled in their ghastly dance. 
 And still Fate spun the shortening thread of life. 
 And still Saul fought; o'er the blood-slippery field, 
 Strewn with arms and fragments of the battle 
 
 wreck, 
 AVhere the hard pressed line gave back, he flung 
 
 himself, 
 And checked the foe, and bore the living down. 
 And trampled o'er the dying and the dead. 
 And some there were who thought they saw that 
 
 day 
 A shadowy form that ever kept his side. 
 And with an unseen shield defended him. 
 
 At length the guard, outnumbered, broke their 
 
 ranks ; 
 And Saul, caught in the rout, was borne along. 
 And as he struggled in the tangled mass. 
 Fate from the spindle snapped the slender thread, 
 And sped a random arrow to its mark. 
 
 His armour bearer caught and steadied him — 
 
 Doeg the Edomite — and Jonathan 
 
 Pressed through the surging mass and gained his 
 
 side. 
 And sheathed his useless sword and lent his arm 
 
Saul Solitaire. 43 
 
 To aid the wounded king to safer ground. 
 But when he saw the foe press on their rear, 
 He turned to Doeg wdtJh a quick resolve : 
 ' ' The day is lost ; Philistia f ol'low^s hard ; 
 And shall we live to see the wounded king 
 Fall helpless into cruel heathen hands? 
 Do you attend him, with a chosen few, 
 And I will rally those who still remain. 
 And make a final stand ; Who knows but Grod 
 May grant us yet to hold the foe in check 
 Until the king escapes? So haste you now, 
 Nor leave your master's side in life or death." 
 He spoke, and w^hile the king held out his hand 
 To check his hasty purpose, he was gone. 
 
 The shattered fragments of the royal guard 
 
 Eallied around their prince ; for when he led, 
 
 Not one but would have followed him to death. 
 
 They met Philistia 's loose, pursuing ranks. 
 
 Demoralized by victory and spoil. 
 
 And flung the foremost back upon the rear, 
 
 And for a time snatched victory from defeat. 
 
 But soon the overwhelming numbers told, 
 
 And rapidly the consecrated band 
 
 Dwindled around their prince ; 'but still they stood, 
 
 And slowly gave the ground with stubborn steps, 
 
 And held an army, flushed with victory, 
 
 While Saul, supported by his retinue. 
 
 Toiled up the mountain side with heavy feet. 
 
 Oh, where was David then ! his single sword 
 
44 Cloud Rifts. 
 
 Were worth a thousand men, his voice twice more! 
 But he who might have saved was far away, 
 Nor knew that day would rob him of his friend. 
 
 His band went down around him, one by one, 
 
 Till he was left alone ; nor would he yield. 
 
 With one last blow he snapped his dripping blade 
 
 And flung tlie broken hilt among his foes. 
 
 The cold steel pierced his breast; and as he fell. 
 
 With one last look upon his native hills, 
 
 And thought of country, king and home, he siglied. 
 
 He saw a woman's pale and tear-stained face. 
 
 And eCiildren's awe-struck faces clustering" near. 
 
 And from liis glazing eye a tear stole down. 
 
 And then he thought of David and his God, 
 
 And smiled — and died as if he fell asleep. 
 
 True heart that loved his country and his friend 
 
 ilore than himself! bravest and tenderest heart! 
 
 Oh, Israel ! ye lost a king that day. 
 
 But a stronger hand caught up the falling crovrn ; 
 
 But many a kingly sun will rise and set, 
 
 Ere ye shall boast another Jonathan ! 
 
 Many there l)e who only lack a crown 
 
 To make them king; ])ut noble 'hearts are scarce 
 
 At best, and hard to find in any realm. 
 
 For noble hearts are more than kingly crowns; 
 
 And he who sways a single heart with love. 
 
 Is greater than he who rules a world by force. 
 
 Tlie liighest thrones are thrones invisible, 
 
Saul Solitaire. 45 
 
 And he is king wlio has the purest heart; 
 For earth is greatest nearest to its God, 
 And nearest to Gt)d is nearest to man. 
 
 Book V. 
 
 Far up the mountain side, Saul and his b^nd 
 Panted and strained; and ever in their rear 
 The tireless archers hung with spiteful sting, 
 Until at length his guard was slain or fled, 
 And only the Edomite kept his side. 
 For. with a dumb beast-like fidelity, 
 The hardened man clung to his Avounded lord, 
 Aided his steps and interposed his .sliield. 
 And stanched the blood that trickled from the 
 Avound. 
 
 But when Saul saw that Jonathan was slain. 
 With one long, ibit'ter cry he sank to earth: 
 "It is no use. Ave do but strive Avitli fate! 
 This bloody day must end the house of Saul! 
 I saw my valiant sons fall, one by one, 
 Till Jonathan alone remained to me ; 
 NoAv he is dead— the last of Saul is dead ! 
 Oh Jonathan, my son ! my last fond hope ! 
 Cursed be the steel that drank thy kingly blood! 
 And cursed the craven hand that Avielded it ! 
 Cursed be the nation and their scaly god ! 
 And cursed be the day that ro'bbed my house 
 Of one to sit upon his father's throne! 
 
46 Cloud Rifts. 
 
 Why should the guiltless with the guilty fall? 
 
 And was my sin so great that punishment, 
 
 To atone, must fall upon the innocent? 
 
 Have I not borne, may I not 'bear enough 
 
 To expiate its guilt? Nay ! it must fall 
 
 Upon my house till not one soul is left — 
 
 For so the sentence spoke — and Jesse's son 
 
 Must wear the crown, and Saul shall reign no more ; 
 
 For in thy fall I see the prophecy 
 
 Of my like fate, bound l)y the self same thread. 
 
 Nor would I live if life were offered me ! 
 
 Live, while my weary length of years dragged on, 
 
 Old and infirm, the slow frost in my veins 
 
 Withering the liower of life and presaging 
 
 Eternal winter; youth, and youth's bright dreams 
 
 Buried behind, and only death ^before. 
 
 Live, hated and shunned hy everyone. 
 
 With uncongenial self for company, 
 
 Feared and eyed askance and plotted against; 
 
 Envying the peasant in his little world. 
 
 Who rides one cot and eats the bread of toil, 
 
 And reads love in a M^mian's gentle eyes 
 
 And feels his children's arms around his neck. 
 
 Live, with ghostly memories of the past 
 
 To eat my heai't out with their keen repreach. 
 
 And ever haunted by this dismal day, 
 
 And know that when at last my days were spent. 
 
 No son could kneel to take his father's crown. 
 
 But a stranger, alien to my house and blood, 
 
 Would snatch the scepter from my stiffening hand. 
 
Saul Solitaire. 47 
 
 No! here my 'hopes have died, here let me die! 
 
 Since I have been the ruin of my house, 
 
 Let my dark life be buried in its fall ! 
 
 Doeg, since first a fugitive you fled 
 
 And joined yourself to me, you haA^e not failed, 
 
 Though I have laid some hard commands on you. 
 
 One more I give ; fail not — it is the last : 
 
 Draw that good sword, which leaped at my command 
 
 When others to their traitor scabbards cleaved, 
 
 And cure my anguish, set my spirit free. 
 
 Death mocks me while he dallies with the blow ; 
 
 For if he strike not soon, yon heathen dogs 
 
 Will come to tear me with their bloody fangs. 
 
 But when they come, oh let my soul be gone ! 
 
 Then though they flay my flesh with greedy teeth. 
 
 They can not tear my soul with deeper wounds. 
 
 You are unhurt and may escape them yet. 
 
 And live to find yourself another lord. 
 
 Born to a happier fate than this of mine." 
 
 But the Edomite looked into his face 
 Like the hound that fawns at his master's hand, 
 And answered doggedly, ''Not so my lord; 
 Since that first day that you befriended me. 
 My sword has never stayed at your command, 
 Not though a linen ephod stood between ; 
 But never shall this sword, by hand of mine. 
 Be tiirned against the master it has served, 
 Else would its hilt pierce deeper than its point. 
 Nor shall men ever say that Doeg fled, 
 
48 Cloud Rifts. 
 
 And left his lord to die without a shield. 
 The hand that strikes the king must first strike me ; 
 And on the morrow when they strip the slain, 
 They'll find Saul's armour bearer by his side." 
 
 The king's face softened, and his dull, set eye 
 
 Lit with a human glow — the first that day: 
 
 "Had others kept faith with me as you have done, 
 
 I should not need a sword, nor point nor hilt ; 
 
 And, with a hundred Doegs at my back, 
 
 I yet would break those cursed heathen ranks 
 
 And send them back to weep at Dagon's shrine. 
 
 But my appointed time to die has come, 
 
 And who can bribe stern death or foil his thrust? 
 
 What matters it then by whose hand I die? 
 
 Better to end my misery at once 
 
 Than linger out a tedious stint of life, 
 
 Then die mocked by the eyes of enemies. 
 
 What is a paltry hour or two of life 
 
 To one who holds the warrant of his death. 
 
 Signed by the hand of God and sealed by fate. 
 
 And knows that death will wait but one short hour 
 
 If he strike not 'before? What use to flee 
 
 From death behind, if death waits on before? 
 
 For if he 'scapes from this, he falls by that. 
 
 My time has come ; and heaven, earth and hell 
 
 Have leagued together and vowed that I must die — 
 
 For so the sentence spake — thou and thy sons — 
 
 Before the gloaming of another day. 
 
 They lie there stiffening in their kingly blood ; 
 
Saul Solitaire. 49 
 
 Will death relent, and idly twirl his dart 
 
 And pass me by? Will heaven take the guiltless 
 
 As sin's sacrifice and let the guilty go? 
 
 Nay, if I yet escaped the heathen steel, 
 
 Death still would fallow me and unawares. 
 
 Strike his fell blow,' or pierce me through this 
 
 wound ; 
 Or earth would cast some rock upon my head, 
 Or Heaven strike me with avenging fire. 
 Has He not sworn that Jesse's son shall reign? 
 What is an hour? already have I lived 
 Too many hours, and each 'has been the worst. 
 And will this one be better than the rest? 
 Will life be dearer than it was before? 
 The future brighter, or the past less dark? 
 Will air be sweeter, or the skies more blue? 
 Will this smouldering fire within my breast 
 Gray itself o'er with ashes and be still? 
 Will memory close her book and read no more? 
 Or will remorse ensheathe his scorpion sting 
 And fall asleep? What care I for an hour? 
 An hour to live and breathe in misery, 
 And bear the barbed taunts of enemies. 
 Then, like a tethered ox struck down, to die ! 
 No ! let me meet death like a man, and die 
 With one hand on his throat, too proud to live ! 
 I met them on their chosen battle fields 
 And slew their noblest, until Dagon 's shrine 
 Was loud with widow's groans and orphan's cries, 
 And many a maid's betrothal sealed with blood! 
 
50 Cloud Rifts. 
 
 I will not live to brook their victor eyes, 
 Nor perish by their craven heathen steel ! 
 A nobler blade shall drain life's ebbing tide! 
 And when they come to search for Israel's king, 
 They'll find him armoured, as they have before! 
 Farewell ! ' ' and as he spoke he drew 'his sword. 
 And placed its point against his 'heart, and fell ; 
 And through the wound his life blood gurgled out. 
 
 Doeg a moment stood, with horror fixed, 
 
 Then, with a bitter and despairing cry, 
 
 He snatched his sword and did as Saul had done. 
 
 Book VI. 
 
 The fevered sun went down, all bathed in blood. 
 
 And darkness hurried on as if in 'haste 
 
 To drape the ghastly bier in sable night ; 
 
 And all was still, save when some dying man. 
 
 Moved by the pangs of thirst, cried out for drink, 
 
 And others moaned in helpless sympathy ; 
 
 Or in the distance, stirred by scent of blood. 
 
 Some beast of prey, 'twixt fear and hunger tossed, 
 
 Prowled round the scene and voiced his craven rage. 
 
 And, covered by the friendly cloak of night, 
 
 The cowardly spoilers of the ibattle field 
 
 Came stealthily to ply their ghoulish trade ; 
 
 And by the moonlight gleaned the field of death. 
 
 And robbed alike the dying and the dead. 
 
Saul Solitaire. 51 
 
 Deceitful war, which hides a demon's face 
 Behind a mask of glory and of pride! 
 Oh, who that saw thee marching forth at morn, 
 Where armies meet upon the field of death, 
 Would recognize, at eve, thy ghastly face. 
 Unmasked in blood and vile deformity? 
 
 Morning came, and with sacrilegious hand, 
 Tore night's drapery from the bloody bier 
 And lit the hidden horrors of the night. 
 The sun, like a wounded warrior, rose 
 With bloody footprints on his cloudy path; 
 And nature held her wonted course unmoved. 
 Stern time swept on to other battle fields; 
 Death followed, panting, on his dusty track, 
 And thrust his sickle in and reaped the earth. 
 Small bands of Philistines patroled the field. 
 And robbed the dead and stilled the wounded 's 
 
 groans, 
 And rudely flung the mangled forms aside 
 And left their burial to the beasts of prey. 
 
 Conspicuous by his stature and his dress. 
 Among the dead they found the fallen king. 
 They severed the head from the lifeless trunk 
 And sent it to the temples in their land. 
 To publish to their gods that Saul was dead. 
 That they need no more tremble at his name. 
 And on the wall of Beth Shan hung his corpse. 
 And ate and drank and praised Philistia's gods. 
 
52 Cloud Rifts. 
 
 When tidings came to Jabesh Gilead, 
 In gratitude for what Saul did for them 
 When Ammon asked the tribute of their eyes, 
 The men arose and journeyed all the night, 
 And took the body down and buried it, 
 And mourned and wept, and fasted seven days. 
 
 1903-1907. 
 
 THE HAUNTED HOUSE. 
 
 Matt. 12:43-45. 
 
 The old house stands by the broad highway, 
 Wliere the travelers ' feet go by alway ; 
 The house has stood there many a day, 
 
 Who knows how long? 
 And still it basks in the summer warm, 
 And creaks and moans in the winter storm, 
 And shivers and rocks in dread alarm 
 
 When the gale is strong. 
 
 The sunken roof with moss is gray, 
 
 And through the rents the sunbeams stray, 
 
 And touch the floor with a timid ray, 
 
 In the cheerless gloom. 
 The gables are dark with weather-stain; 
 And gaze with a vacant look of pain, 
 As if they saw, through sun and rain. 
 
 Their approaching doom. 
 
The Haunted House. . 53 
 
 The windows, shattered in days gone by, 
 Still gaze, with ragged sightless eye 
 Upon the curious passer-by, 
 
 In their solemn dearth. 
 The chimney rises gaunt and spare ; , 
 'Tis long since it felt the warm fire 's glare ; 
 From soot the storm has washed it bare, 
 
 And swept the hearth. 
 
 In dusty masses the cobwebs swing. 
 
 Fanned by the zephyr's idle wing. 
 
 Like the measured breath of a living thing, 
 
 As they rise and fall. 
 Behind the walls the shy mice fight, 
 And, in the garret's dim twilight. 
 The owl and bat turn day to night, 
 
 And the vermin crawl. 
 
 One time, the house was trim and neat, 
 And echoed the cheerful tread of feet. 
 Gathered within its safe retreat, 
 
 With the world shut out. 
 The hearth with ruddy flame was bright. 
 And through the windows into night. 
 Flung its radiant smile of light. 
 
 The dark to rout. 
 
 A happy family gathered there, 
 And joy and peace reigned everywhere, 
 Without a place for gloom or care, 
 Nor envied kings. 
 
54 Cloud Rifts. 
 
 The smoke went up from the humble hearth 
 Like a sacrifice of noble worth, 
 Bearing the soul away from earth 
 And earthly things. 
 
 The roses bloomed about the door; 
 The ivy greened the chimney o'er; 
 The garden yielded up its store — 
 
 How long ago? 
 I cannot tell — but years have fled! 
 Disturb them not with curious tread! 
 Those buried years are dead! all dead! 
 
 This much I know. 
 
 For Death rode down on his pale, pale steed. 
 And life turned sere beneath his tread; 
 Ghastly dim was the light he shed 
 
 From his hungry eyes. 
 What traitor hand unbarred the door? 
 With noiseless feet upon the floor. 
 Death came that night ; they woke no more — 
 
 He sealed their closed eyes. 
 
 Death found them wrapped in slumber deep; 
 He breathed on each a lasting sleep, 
 And gave the walls a charge to keep — 
 
 A secret dread. 
 And when the morning da^vned at last, 
 Those staring walls stood all aghast, 
 As through the doors the inmates passed, 
 
 Borne, cold and dead! 
 
The Haunted House. 55 
 
 A nameless horror filled the place, 
 
 As if the walls, Avith fixed trace, 
 
 Had caught the likeness of Death's face 
 
 In their rigid stare. 
 And since that night it stands alone; 
 While the leaden daj's to years have grown; 
 Stands desolate, and makes its moan; 
 
 Stands cold and bare ! 
 
 And oft, when the storm fiends shriek and soar, 
 And the watch Wind tramps across the moor, 
 And knocks and calls at the creaking door, 
 
 In the dark, dark night. 
 Strange voices, hidden from human ken. 
 Mingle and flow with the Avind and rain, 
 And rise — and fall — and rise again, 
 
 In rhA'thmic flight. 
 
 And strange lights flash with lurid beam, 
 And through the broken casements stream. 
 And strange shapes flit athAvart their gleam. 
 
 While the Avatcher stands. 
 And goblins tread their measures light; 
 And phantoms glide across the sight; 
 And Aveird hands beckon through the night; 
 
 Dark, shadowy hands ! 
 
 (ihostly eyes in the darkness peer; 
 And spectral faces lurk and leer; 
 And demon's Avings brood, dark and drear 
 With the gloom of Hell! 
 
56 Cloud Rifts. 
 
 Through his clenched teeth the false night Wind, 
 Going his rounds, with fury blind. 
 Shrieks, as he leaves the house behind, 
 "All's well! All's well! 
 
 Tlie old house stands by the broad highway. 
 Where the travelers' feet go by alway, 
 And the years roll on for aye and aye 
 
 In their dusty track. 
 And it seems to scan, with wistful gaze. 
 The past, through all its tangled maze. 
 Searching for faces of bygone days. 
 
 Which come not back! 
 
 1905. 
 
 TWICE PURGED. 
 Parti. 
 
 The earth w^as young, and very fair was she. 
 The Eden flush was still upon her face. 
 Although the centuries had passed her by. 
 And on her orbit marked their silent course. 
 Since justice's sword, white flaming with God's 
 
 wrath, 
 Had barred the gate and withered Eden's bloom. 
 Aye, centuries had past since first she shrank 
 Confounded at the curse of Deity, 
 
Twice Purged. 57 
 
 And sought to hide her face from Him above; 
 
 But still a halo lingered over her, 
 
 Reflected glory of the former days, 
 
 The memories of half forgotten smiles 
 
 With which she looked into her Maker's face. 
 
 The earth was young; but her virginity 
 
 Was marred, disfigured by the curse of sin. 
 
 Oh fearful curse ! Oh, unoffending earth ! 
 
 Why shoulds't thou share the punishment of man? 
 
 And so the earth bewailed her blighted youth. 
 And drew a somber vail across her face 
 For shame of her outraged virginity. 
 From out the sorrow nursed within her breast 
 Grief-generated thorns and thistles sprang. 
 And raised their armed hands in deadly war 
 Against the beautiful and useful plants. 
 Till e'en the rose in self defense grew thorns^ 
 
 In wrath the elements against her warred, 
 
 And hurled their jagged lightnings in her face, 
 
 And swept their tempests o'er her naked breast, 
 
 And dashed their floods upon her unfeneed brow'. 
 
 The torrents seized upon her mantling hills 
 
 And dragged them down and fliing them in the deep, 
 
 And left long gaping wounds to mark their course. 
 
 The ocean raged and chafed against its bounds. 
 
 And strained upon the leash omnipotent. 
 
 And curled his white frothed fangs in aw^ful rage. 
 
 And longed to strike them in earth's proudest peak. 
 
58 ^ Cloud Rifts. 
 
 The brute creation rose, in vengeful mood, 
 And fiercely preyed upon their weaker kind. 
 The lion scorned to eat his peaceful food, 
 And, with a keen sin-whetted appetite, 
 Dyed his glistering fangs in purple gore. 
 The bird of Jove, low stooping from his course. 
 Planted his talons in the songster's throat 
 And hushed the palpitating strain half finished. 
 The weaker from tlie stronger fled in fear. 
 And fleeing trampled down the weaker still; 
 And half the brute creation crouched for prey, 
 And 'half for life; and man, who ruled the earth 
 By love in paradise, now ruled 'by force, 
 And hardly held his place of sovereignty, 
 To have dominion o'er the creature world. 
 Some braved the wrath of man in enmity. 
 And broke ^allegiance with the lord of earth. 
 In lasting hatred to the race of man ; 
 And by his path the subtle serpent lurked 
 And bruised his heel in everlasting hate. 
 The patient bowed their necks beneath the yoke 
 And shared alike his 'blessing and his curse. 
 
 And man, once made in likeness of his God, 
 Became so changed the pattern was forgot; 
 And, lifting up his hand, he cursed the One 
 Whose image had been stamped upon his clay! 
 Man hated man, and through him hated God. 
 Each one his hand against his brother turned, 
 Until the Cains became so numerous 
 
Twice Purged. 59 
 
 There was no longer room to banish them. 
 The mighty ruled ; the weak were trodden do^\•ll ; 
 The innocent were slain; the pure were wronged. 
 And justice raised her chained hand and cried ; 
 And virtue wept — and no one heard but God. 
 
 And all the earth was filled with violence, 
 And drank the mingled draught of blood and sin, 
 Until she choked and shuddered and grew sick, 
 And reeled until she shook the throne of God, 
 And God looked down ; the earth was all corrupt, 
 And man was evil, and his ways were vile, 
 And dark imaginations brooded deep 
 Within his noisome heart continually. 
 Then God reached down and laid His heavy hand, 
 With retribution filled, upon the earth. 
 And she moaned and shivered at His touch, 
 And reeled and staggered like a drunken man ; 
 And her fiery heart beat fast dnd loud, 
 And her fevered pulse burned throb^bingly. 
 The elements grew dark and lowering hung. 
 With muttered vengeance in their thunders deep. 
 
 God spoke ; the burdened elements dissolved, 
 And flung their torrents down upon the earth. 
 From out earth's shuddering womb destruction 
 
 broke, 
 And rent her bowels, and the floods gushed out — 
 The long imprisoned floods burst forth with joy — 
 And wounded earth, o'erwhelmed and buffeted. 
 Sank choking in the universal sea. 
 
60 Oloud Rdfts. 
 
 Upward the waters raged, with hoarser cry, 
 Till floods ascending met descending floods, 
 And clasped each other in a close embrace, 
 And wandered round the circled universe, 
 And found no shore to hreak their waves upon. 
 And on their breast the wanton billows tossed, 
 In sportive play, the sodden wreckage of a 
 Drowned world. And far across the watery waste, 
 Storm-tossed and driven, rode a little bark. 
 Upheld within the hollow of God's hand. 
 Bearing the renmant of the race of man. 
 
 Part II. 
 
 The earth was old. Her aged pulse beat slow. 
 With tottering steps she kept her orbit course. 
 Her hoary locks, disheveled by Time's hand, 
 Showed white against eternity's profound. 
 And still she moaned and sighed ah me! ah me! 
 And muttered incoherently to herself. 
 And stared, with vacant eyes, far out in space 
 Where her beaten orbit touch infinity. 
 
 The fevered curse still burned within her veins. 
 Oh earth, the curse was deep! the curse was deep! 
 The waters could not wash its stains away. 
 Nor floods could drown, nor elements consume ! 
 But while these purged the outside fair and clean. 
 The curse still smouldered in her bosom deep, 
 
Twice Purged. 61 
 
 And clutched witii fiery fingers at her heart, 
 And spread itself again o'er all t'he land, 
 Before the sodden earth was fairly dry. 
 And all the creature world returned again 
 To their former instincts, sin-depraved. 
 And man took up the tangled thread of lift- 
 Where death had snatched it from a drv^wning 
 
 world ; 
 And ere the bark which bridged two worlds in one, 
 Had rotted from the sight of this young race. 
 The old world was forgotten by the new. 
 While the rainbow's virgin kiss was warm 
 Upon the new, regenerated earth, 
 Man broke the covenant made beneath its arch ; 
 And ere the ark-saved generation passed, 
 God's curse, reiterated, fell on man. 
 
 And now the world was old, and sin was ripe ; 
 And premonitions of her coming death 
 Made her to start and shudder witli affright. 
 Strange, deep tremblings seized upon her frame ; 
 She rocked and shook as if within her breast 
 Some dire calamity was "brooding deep. 
 And oft she wandered from her beaten course 
 In vague uncertainty, and back again. 
 
 The day trespassed on night, and night on day. 
 The seasons their accustomed times forgot, 
 And came and went as if they moved by chance. 
 The sun turned backward from 'his journey south, 
 
62 Cloud Rifts. 
 
 To kiss the barren northland, winter bound, 
 And on the summer tropics, winter fell; 
 And seed time chanced within the harvest days, 
 And winter reaped the fields of waving green. 
 
 The earth was old ! so old ! 'and Time was old ! 
 
 His eye was dim, his leaden foot was slow; 
 
 The scepter trembled in his palsied hand ; 
 
 For he was passing with the dying world. 
 
 He gazed across Eternity's great de€p, 
 
 And restless, wandered up and down the shore, 
 
 Till God's strong angel wended to the earth 
 
 And set his either foot on sea and land, 
 
 And swore by Him who sits forever on the throne 
 
 That all was finished and earth 's course was run ; 
 
 Man's race was ended; time should 'be no more. 
 
 Then all creation moved to meet its death. 
 Time emptied out his glass of trickling sand 
 Upon Eternity's broad, wave-kissed shore. 
 And fell upon his fatal scythe and died. 
 
 From His throne, God reached and smote the earth, 
 And touched it with a palm of flaming fire ; 
 And all the mountains smoked and burst in flame, 
 And sudden earthquakes rent earth's mouldy crust, 
 And hissing streams of molten fire outpoured. 
 And rivers changed their limpid, cooling store 
 For streams of liquid fire ; and sent them down 
 Where every valley in its bosom held 
 
Twioe Purged. 63 
 
 A limpid lake of lava glowing white. 
 
 And deep explosions tore the mountains loose 
 
 And hurled them shattered to the burning plain. 
 
 And ranges sank in seas of weltering fire, 
 
 And plains with quick upheaval rose and towered 
 
 To mountain heights, baptized with liquid fire. 
 
 And then Grod dipped His hand into the sea ; 
 
 And all the broad expanse was changed to fire ; 
 
 A sea of fire ; and fathoms deep was fire ; 
 
 And ocean's coral caves were laved by fire; 
 
 And earth's foundations wrapped in curling flames; 
 
 And fiery billows madly rose and fell, 
 
 And flung themselves, flame-crested, on a burning 
 
 Shore. And earth's deep-laid pillars, bruised and 
 
 charred, 
 Crum'bled and fell, and continents sank doAvn 
 In tangled wrecks; and earth's mighty frame dis- 
 solved 
 And foundered in the universal sea; 
 And o'er his ancient boundaries, God-set, 
 The fiery ocean swept without a s'hore. 
 
 God breathed upon the air; the atmosphere 
 Flared up in flame, and earth and sea and air 
 All intermingled in one burning mass. 
 All laws dissolved and boundary lines erased, 
 And matter resolved to its primeval state. 
 And earth, wrapped in a Avinding-sheet of flame, 
 Like some wild creature goaded on by fear, 
 
64 Cloud Rifts. 
 
 Fled for life, and fleeing hurried on to death, 
 And by her conflagration lighted up 
 Her funeral march ; and in her wake 
 A ragged train of crimson flame outflung 
 Like bloody banners on her or*bit path. 
 Whose brilliance pierced the vast deep of space 
 And lighted up the course of other worlds. 
 And still she fled a crinkling globe of fire; 
 Within, without, and all around was fire. 
 Which glowed and scintillated varied hues, 
 Fanned upward by the wrathful breath of God. 
 
 And earth dissolved and lost her grosser form. 
 And took celestial mold. And sin was purged ; 
 The curse was purged away to come no more. 
 And heaven and earth in newness rose. 
 The ever-during home of righteousness. 
 
 And somewhere in the bosom of Eternity 
 A throne was set, which dipped its foot within 
 A sea of glass that burned with living flame; 
 And on the sea a multitude, so vast 
 No man could number them, redeemed from earth, 
 
 1905. 
 
A World Vision. 65 
 
 A WORLD VISION. 
 
 Part I. 
 
 The night is dark; the clouds hang low. 
 
 The sad wind treadeth soft and slow. 
 
 The watch is set in the gloomy tower, 
 
 And he keeps his vigil hour by hour. 
 
 The night is dark ; tJhe world asleep. 
 
 We strain our eyes through the gloomy deep; 
 
 But all in vain, for we cannot see 
 
 The things which are, or what shall be. 
 
 "Watchman! from thy vantage high, 
 
 What dost thou through the night descry? 
 
 Watchman! watchman! what of the night?" 
 
 ''The morning cometh, but first the night. 
 
 On the lonely tower I stand all day ; 
 
 In my ward I watch the night away; 
 
 And nothing cometh ; 'but the blank of night, 
 
 Cheerless and changeless, ever meets my sight.'* 
 
 "Watchman! watchman! look again! 
 
 Hath God forgotten the sons of men?" 
 
 And he cried, "A vision! through the night 
 
 Mine eyes beheld a wondrous sight ; 
 
 But the vision is dark, and who can read? 
 
 For it bodeth ill to Adam's seed. 
 
 I looked, and through the oppres.sive gloom 
 
 I saw a shadowy figure loom, 
 
66 Cloud Rifts. 
 
 So iDlack it had escaped the sight, 
 
 But that it made a blot upon the night; 
 
 A darker shadow, through the dark of night, 
 
 Moving Avith hasty, subtle flight. 
 
 And while I watched the shape drew near, 
 
 And a horse and rider did appear. 
 
 Blacker the horse than midnight's frown; 
 
 And the spume his restless lips flung down 
 
 Clung like tar to his 0l)on coat. 
 
 And the matted mane about his throat. 
 
 He had no rein to check his whim. 
 
 So he went where his fancy guided him. 
 
 His rider, deformed more hideously 
 
 Than the mind could think or the eye could see. 
 
 Himself was dark as the horse he rode ; 
 
 Not a gleam of light or color showed 
 
 In the dress or harness of the pair, 
 
 Who passed like the shades of fell despair. 
 
 Over the rider's head was flung 
 
 A saljle cowl, which loosely hung. 
 
 And hid his face and form from sight. 
 
 And' trailed behind him through the night. 
 
 And floated in wild fantastic folds 
 
 And clouds of dark and curious molds. 
 
 Far as the eye could force its way 
 
 The shadowy mantle spread aAvay; 
 
 And where it drooped its sable wings 
 
 Above the earth and earthly things, 
 
 Upon the sons of men there fell 
 
 A shadoAv, like the pall of Hell, 
 
A World Vision. 67 
 
 Which draped the earth, and hid the sky, 
 
 And caused the bright and beautiful to die. 
 
 And men forgot there was a God, 
 
 And bent their eyes upon the sod; 
 
 Forgot the sun and stars and sky, 
 
 And all things noble, pure and high. 
 
 And saw but earth, and things of earth. 
 
 And cared for nought of higher worth. 
 
 Their heaven-born natures stooped and bowed 
 
 Beneath the pressure of the cloud, 
 
 Till in the earth their souls took root 
 
 And changed them to the semblance of a brute. 
 
 But the vision is dark, and who can read? 
 
 For it bodeth ill to Adam's seed." 
 
 Part II. 
 
 The night is dark ; the earth is still ; 
 
 Our hearts oppressed with a nameless ill. 
 
 "Watchman! watchman! What of the night?" 
 
 "The morning eometh, but first the night! 
 
 On the lonely tower I stand all day; 
 
 In my ward I watch the night away; 
 
 And a vision eometh : through the night 
 
 A horseman took his reckless flight 
 
 In a coat of mail of darkest hue, 
 
 Where at every joint the Wood oozed through. 
 
 He bore no arms, but in his hand 
 
 He carried a charred and blood-quenched brand. 
 
6S Cloud Eifts. 
 
 His steed was red, and with heedless pace 
 He onward dashed in liis terrible race; 
 And through the night air, cold and dank. 
 I heard his ghostly harness clank. 
 His heaving flanks sweat drops of blood; 
 His h.oofs beat fiery dust from the sod. 
 Which kindled a flame of fire and smoke. 
 To blight and blast and stifle and choke. 
 And it blinded the eyes of the sons of men, 
 Aiid burned like a fever in their veins; 
 And with natures fierce as beasts of prey, 
 Consumed by lust to burn and slay. 
 They forgot the ties of human kind, 
 Forget to pity, by rage made blind, 
 And marred the image of their God, 
 And quenched the fires in purple blood. 
 But the vision is stern, and who can read? 
 For it bodeth woe to Adam's seed." 
 
 Part m. ^ J 
 
 The night is dark, the world is dead; » 
 
 And Hope lies low in a stonj^ bed. 
 Faith has forgotten how to soar, 
 And plumes her drooping wings no more. 
 "Watchman! watchman! what of the night?" 
 "The morning cometh, but first the night. 
 On the lonely tower I stand all day; 
 In my ward I watch the night away; 
 
A World Vision. 69 
 
 At the midnight hour a vision passed, 
 
 The while my senses shrank aghast. 
 
 With noiseless feet and stealthy pace 
 
 A horse and rider passed the jylaee 
 
 So silently I scarcely knew 
 
 If they trod the earth or if they flew. 
 
 Around them beamed a sickly light 
 
 Which scarcely tinged the hue of night. 
 
 Pale was the steed, the rider paler still ; 
 
 And he took his course where he had a will. 
 
 In his sunken eyes a pale light glowed, 
 
 Where ravening famine plainly showed. 
 
 His pallid face was set and grim, 
 
 And nature shuddered at sight of him. 
 
 In his hand a ragged dart he bore; 
 
 And when he passed I saw his form no more. 
 
 But where he came all nature pined aAvay, 
 
 And nature's colors changed to ashy gray; 
 
 And in his wake were withered bowers, 
 
 And crumbling walls, and ruined towers. 
 
 And rooftrees fallen in decay. 
 
 And liearthstones where the fire 'had died away. 
 
 And cities buried in the dust. 
 
 And empires' ashes, scattered by a gust, 
 
 And broken crowns and scepters flung aside 
 
 'Neath the rotting robes of pomp and pride — 
 
 All mixed with skulls, and heaps of dust. 
 
 And moldering clay, and noisome must. 
 
 And gruesome shapes resembling human forms. 
 
 Sinking in earth, the banquet hall of worms. 
 
70 Cloud Sifts. 
 
 And all the air was filled with moans 
 And Avails and shrieks and sobs and groans, 
 And broken words, and long farewells, 
 And clingiug whispers no one else- could tell, 
 And shadowy voices of 'hidden things. 
 And the winnowing rusli of unseen wings. 
 But the vision is ghastly; wdio can read? 
 For it bodeth grief to Adam's seed." 
 
 Part IV. 
 
 The night is dark ; Ave Avatch and AA^eep. 
 
 The clouds across the heavens creep. 
 
 Dark are the shadows gathered there; 
 
 Darker the pall of fixed despair. 
 
 "Watchman! watchman! AA-'hat of the night?" 
 
 "Night is far spent; morn breaks her light. 
 
 On the lonely tower I stand all day ; 
 
 In my Avard I Avatch the night aAA'ay. 
 
 When the hours Avere small, and the tired night 
 
 Was girding her ro'bes, prepared for flight. 
 
 And over her face flared one pale ray. 
 
 In Avrath at the amorous kiss of day. 
 
 And my drooping lids AA^ere heavy Avith sleep, 
 
 I saAv a light through the darkness SAveep, 
 
 Brighter than day at noontide houi'; 
 
 Night paled, and fled before its poAver. 
 
 And in the midst of the dazzling light 
 
 One rode on a steed of milky white. 
 
A Worl'd Vision. 71 
 
 A vesture dipped in blood he wore ; 
 
 In his hand a kingly scepter bore. 
 
 His hair was white as driven snow; 
 
 His eyes like living flames aglow. 
 
 And graven deep in his white forehead 
 
 A name no mortal man could read. 
 
 A mighty army followed him, 
 
 Stretching away in the distance dim, 
 
 Close-ranked, as far as the eye could see, 
 
 A boundless, restless, living sea, 
 
 Mounted on steeds of milky white, 
 
 And armoured in robes as pure as light. 
 
 They bore no cruel, warlike arms. 
 
 No trumpet told of war's alarms; 
 
 But where they marched, by some strange spell, 
 
 Cities and kingdoms tottered and fell. 
 
 And kings came forth the host to meet 
 
 And laid their crowns at the conqueror's feet. 
 
 And knees, Avhich ne 'er before had fcowed, 
 
 Knelt before him awed and coAved. 
 
 And nations rose, with one accord, 
 
 And hailed him as their king and lord. 
 
 And when the vision passed away. 
 
 The night had gone and it was day. 
 
 But the vision is plain, and all may read, 
 
 For it bodeth good to Adam's seed." 
 
 1905. 
 
72 Cloud Rifts. 
 
 TO A LONE OAK.— A Soliloquy. 
 
 Lone Sentinel, standing solitary, 
 
 Like some old warder of the castled hills, 
 
 Keeping the gates against the siege of Time, ■ 
 
 Stern and majestic in thy solitude, 
 
 And venerable in thy hoary age ! 
 
 Were I but learned in nature's gentle tongue, 
 
 I'd sit beside thj'^ feet and hear thy tale. 
 
 What checkered fortune hath befallen thee 
 
 How many tempests tried thy fibered heart? 
 
 What fate hath left thee standing here alone? 
 
 Could nature find no peer to plant Avith thee 
 
 To be companion of thy solitude ? 
 
 Or did kind nature give thee company, 
 
 And some ill fate remove it from thy side? 
 
 Perchance Avhen first you raised your head to peep 
 
 Above the daisies and the buttercups, 
 
 You saw the springing of a mighty clan 
 
 And felt the kindred ties of brotherhood. 
 
 And grcAv, and locked your arms in brothers' arms, 
 
 Till fire or tempest or more ruthless man 
 
 Swept them away and left thee here alone. 
 
 Or, still more cruel fate, it may be Chance 
 
 Planted about thy feet an alien stock — 
 
 A dwarfish race which could not lift their heads 
 
 To hold converse with thee nor breathe thy air ; 
 
 And ever, while their short-lived race was ran, 
 
To a Lone Oak. 73 
 
 You lived among them, in another world. 
 And vexed yourself with memories of the past, 
 Till Time cut down the ephemeral race 
 And swept them from the birthright of thy clan. 
 
 Time hath not touched thee with a gentle hand ; 
 
 The tempest hath not pitied as it passed. 
 
 How often has the wild storm lopped thy boughs 
 
 And flung them down in wrath about thy feet! 
 
 How often hast thou, when amorous Spring 
 
 Has sent strange passions 'beating through thy heart, 
 
 Lured by her wiles, put on gay spousal robes 
 
 And thought to keep her ever for thy bride — 
 
 Only to find her false; and Autumn chill, 
 
 In mockery stripped thee of thy gaudy dress 
 
 And left thee shivering in the winter wind. 
 
 Brave, hardy Oak ! a bond of s.\nnpatiliy 
 
 Binds me to thee ! I too have stood alone, 
 
 In deeper solitude than this of thine, 
 
 A lonely exile in the midst of men, 
 
 And searched through my small Avorld to find one 
 
 soul — 
 A kindred soul who read my heart aright. 
 And when I found a few, and linked my life in theirs, 
 Unfeeling Time rolled up the scroll of years, 
 And old familiar scenes and faces fled, 
 And new ones crowded in — an alien race 
 That could not speak the language of my heart. 
 I, too, was nursed amid the stonn, 
 
74 Cloud Rifts. 
 
 And battled with adverse elements 
 
 More pitiless than these of thine. 
 
 My sonl was schooled with stern Adversity, 
 
 And taught to strike its roots deep in the soil 
 
 Of God's eternal will and purposes. 
 
 And oft, lured on by youth's delusive spring, 
 
 Hope budded in my heart and put forth leaves, 
 
 And dreamed the flowers of spring would never die ; 
 
 But winds of autumn flung them, sere and dead, 
 
 About my feet — the toys of every passing gust. 
 
 Life turned lier sterner side to you and me ; 
 And Ave have climbed the rougher, steeper path, 
 "While others took the longer, smoother way. 
 But the shorter path comes sooner to the top; 
 And he who takes the rugged, barren side 
 Looks on scenes that others never view. 
 And hears the oracle which only dwells 
 And prophesies in rough time-hollowed caves. 
 Give me to climb among the rocks of life. 
 Rather than pluck its flowers in slothful ease! 
 
 My rough-^hewn soul was cast in martial mold, 
 And found the world and self a battlefield. 
 And knight-like ever couched its lance for right; 
 Some victories gained, and many more defeats; 
 But if it ever struck amiss, it erred 
 Through aim and not intent. I could not live, 
 And see a living thing that God has made 
 Oppressed and wronged, but I must take its part. 
 
To a Lone Oak. 75 
 
 In kindness, Providence 'has dealt to me 
 
 My share of suffering — 'chance some beside;. 
 
 And I have taken it as from God's hand, 
 
 And it has drawn me to the sacred shrine 
 
 Where God's great heart keeps time with erring 
 
 man's; 
 And half my heart beats np to God, and half 
 Beats down to man. From childhood I have seen 
 The sin and wrong and suffering of earth, 
 And wept for it — wept more for what I have seen 
 Than what I've felt; but most of all I mourned 
 That I had added something to its store. 
 
 My heart is pained for Nature's ragged wounds — 
 
 Her temple desecrated by man 's hand ; 
 
 And for the cowering, timid ei'eatures wild, 
 
 Forever fleeing from the eye of man. 
 
 Born only to be hunted to their death ; 
 
 And for the meek-eyed kind that bend the neck 
 
 In patience to the 'heavy yoke of man, 
 
 And for the pittance serve, of food and drink, 
 
 And receive reward for their faithfulness, 
 
 Oft times, in cruelty and mean neglect — 
 
 The horse that toils beneath his master's scourge. 
 
 Half-fed. and overworked, with dumb despair 
 
 Depicted in his hollow, sunken eyes 
 
 Where no hope longer dwells but hope of death; 
 
 The outcast dog that wanders through the street. 
 
 And looks this way and that, and starts with dread, 
 
 Searching the face of every passerby 
 
76 Cloud Rifts. 
 
 Imploringly, half in trust and half in fear, 
 Still hoping he may some day find a friend. 
 
 Oh God! the world is full of misery! 
 
 But most of all I mourn my fellow man, 
 
 Thrice cursed with triple pangs of suffering, 
 
 Because he feels what is, and what has been, 
 
 And wihat may be. And I have hated wrong 
 
 Because it hated man and wrought his woe. 
 
 Sorrow and suffering are the unseen bonds 
 
 That tie the earth in one great brotherhood. 
 
 And make the race of man one family. 
 
 Man is a brother while he bears the mark 
 
 And features of life's common heritage. 
 
 The wretch who begs his crust from door to door, 
 
 And owns no more than those few tattered rags ; 
 
 The sick who toss upon a fevered bed, 
 
 AVish for the morning, and then long for the night; 
 
 The children, cold and hungry in the street, 
 
 No home but vice, no friend but poverty; 
 
 The poor, who wear their narrow lives away, 
 
 And wring their daily bread from daily toil, 
 
 And ever see a specter near the door; 
 
 The serf who stoops beneath the tj^rant's yoke. 
 
 And blunts his misery by deep, dark thoughts 
 
 Of blood and death, revenge and liljerty ; 
 
 The rich who live in pampered luxury. 
 
 Oppress the weak, and count their hoarded gold 
 
 Corroded with the life-blood of the poor ; 
 
 The man who sells his fellow man for gold. 
 
To a Lone Oak. 77 
 
 And deals him so much death for so much coin, 
 
 And hides his guilt behind the seal of law; 
 
 The statesman bargaining with fraud and graft, 
 
 Haggling the price for which he sells the state ; 
 
 The convict sitting in his narrow cell 
 
 Battling with memory and keen remorse ; 
 
 The inebriate begging for another drink 
 
 To drown his conscience in the fiery cup 
 
 Where his all of earth and heaven already lie ; 
 
 The erring girl who thinks again of home. 
 
 And balances despair and death with life ; 
 
 The man who reaps the tares he sowed in youth, 
 
 And as he binds them thinks what might have been; 
 
 The heart that sorrows o'er an open grave 
 
 And tries to look beyond the cheerless tomb ; 
 
 The honest love despised and scorned aside, 
 
 And the pride that gloats upon its misery; 
 
 The broken vow, the infidelity. 
 
 The sundered bond which God himself had joined ; 
 
 Wrecked homes and broken, scattered families, 
 
 Lone exiles from earth 's only paradise ; 
 
 These, all these, from the beggar to the king. 
 
 Clutch the skirts of a common humanity. 
 
 And all with one accord cry "We are kin; 
 
 We drcAv our nurture from the self same breast." 
 
 I hate the sin and wrong that mar man 's life ! 
 And I have brooded over earth's dark woes 
 Until I could not smile when others laughed. 
 And 'mid the gayeties of life I've seen 
 
78 Cloud Rifts. 
 
 A haunting phantom shape, and drawn apart, 
 
 And in the desert of my reticence 
 
 Wandered alone and fed my tender flocks, 
 
 And found God in a bush that never burned. 
 
 And in the night I've seen a mystic hand 
 
 Creep forth upon the wall and write earth's doom, 
 
 And God's wrath from the altar flaming out, 
 
 As when the Levites hore unhallowed fire ; 
 
 And seen the phantom of the future rise and cry 
 
 "Mene, Mene, Tekel, Upharsin!" 
 
 Yet faith Avhispers "God is God, and right is right.'* 
 
 I know that all things work to some great end 
 
 Designed by God. Wrong can but hinder, 
 
 Not divert, His eternal purposes. 
 
 For God lives in the ages yet to come ; 
 
 And though the great wheels of His purposes 
 
 Turn sometimes backward, they but gather force. 
 
 I cannot think the world is lost to God ; 
 My faith is strong that man will yet return 
 And build, with Him, a larger, better world, 
 And crown Time 's hoary locks with a millennium. 
 Ere he shall trade the scepter for the shroud. 
 Man was not made for sin and suffering, 
 God crowned him with a higher destiny; 
 And man's capacity is God's possibility. 
 And o'er the gray ashes of a sin-spent world 
 God yet may breath, and wake them into flame. 
 
To a Lone Oak. 79 
 
 The -world is not yet rotten to the core; 
 
 The worm has pierced the rind, and left a streak 
 
 Of tainted refuse, but within 'tis sound. 
 
 We see the outside blemish, and conclude 
 
 The inside worse, since we can not trace the worm. 
 
 The bad is ever seen, the good concealed ; 
 
 As driftwood rises on the swollen stream. 
 
 I've winnowed the world and found it mostly chaff, 
 Yet gathered many grains of precious wheat ; 
 As much perhaps as one could hope to find. 
 For who would look for wheat apart from chaff? 
 And who expects but that the chaff exceeds? 
 For he who thinks the world is sifted wheat 
 Has never la'))ored in the threshing floor; 
 And he who thinks it only worthless chaff 
 Has never winnowed o'er its garnered heap. 
 Grod's fan is in His hand; my faith is strong 
 That He will purge the heap, and bare the floor, 
 And drive the chaff away upon the Avind, 
 And find more Avlieat than we believed was there 
 Who judged the harvest by our puny fan, 
 AVhich only searched among the surface chaff. 
 And never found the wheat down near the floor. 
 Hope ever cheers mj^ soul, and points ahead 
 Where Time is bringing in earth's harvest home. 
 
 A few more years, lone Tree, and thou must fall ; 
 Th}^ gnarled and crooked limbs relax in dust, 
 And, scattered far by fire and wind and flood, 
 
80 Cloud Rifts. 
 
 Be lost in nature's universal earth. 
 
 And on the morrow I shall ibe with thee, 
 
 And render back the debt of borrowed dust, 
 
 That earth may no more claim life's usury. 
 
 Yet thou shalt live again in other forms. 
 
 Infuse thy giant strength in other limbs. 
 
 And rise again without one atom lost. 
 
 And when the stone which marks my resting place 
 
 Has mingled with the mortal dust below, 
 
 And left no epitaph but that engraved 
 
 Upon the hearts of men — I still shall live. 
 
 We cannot cease to be; thou, matter still; 
 
 I, mind and spirit, as we were before. 
 
 Death is but change of form and place, not state; 
 
 Eternal change, annihilating nought. 
 
 1907. 
 
 THE ALL-SEEING ONE. 
 
 Oh whither shal I from Thy presence flee. 
 Or where escape Thy watchful eye, oh God ! 
 My heart is weary, and so filled with sin — 
 So many sins I eannot number them — 
 I lost their crimson score long years ago — 
 But Thou has kept them all within Thy book. 
 And I have covered up my heart from men, 
 And glossed it over till they thought it fair; 
 But cannot hide from Thee its secrets dark. 
 And in the silent night, when other eyes. 
 
The All-Seeing One. 81 
 
 Shut ill by friendly walls of darkness, close, 
 And woo the soft caresses of sweet sleep. 
 Thine eye strikes through the sable covering 
 And visits all the chambers of my heart, 
 And seest all things there — poor sinful heart! 
 
 And when I mingle in the jostling crowds 
 Which daily throng the crowded thoroughfare, 
 Where greed and care the voice of conscience drown 
 And pleasure blunts the sting of fell remorse 
 That same eye marks me in the vast concourse. 
 And looks into my trembling, shrinking heart 
 Until I shudder and grow sick with dread, 
 And fear lest those around should see my sins; 
 But they with blinded eyes, pass on, nor see 
 The sinful heart which beats so near their own. 
 
 If I can move among the multitude, 
 
 And hide my thoughts and cover up my heart 
 
 From all the host of scrutinizing eyes, 
 
 Is there not somewhere a sequestered spot 
 
 Where I can hide me from the eye of God? 
 
 If I should travel far o'er desert sands. 
 
 Which scorch the feet and parch the thirsty lips. 
 
 And smite the burning 'brow with torrid heat. 
 
 Where m) eye ever met its barrenness, 
 
 Where no foot ever pressed its dreary waste — 
 
 There Thou dost brood above the solitude. 
 
 Or if I wander into frigid climes, 
 
82 Cloud Rifts. 
 
 Across the endless stretch of virgin snow, 
 Where Nature's icy harness clanks and grates 
 Beneath the wild and warring elements; 
 Wliere the foot can find no resting place, 
 And the blinded eyes refuse to look 
 Upon the dreary blank of frozen world — 
 Thou dwellest there amid the wild monotony. 
 
 Or could I hide me in the ocean caves. 
 
 Where fathoms deep the tiny eoral builds, 
 
 And wreathe my weary brow with wet sea-weed, 
 
 And draw the mantle of the cold, still deep 
 
 Around my form, and say "I reign alone, 
 
 A king, my wat'ry empire undisturbed 
 
 By the Avild commotions of the far off world, 
 
 And all unknown, unvisited by God" — 
 
 E'en then Thine eye would pierce the glassy depth, 
 
 Thy voice re-echo from the startled caves, 
 
 ''What dost thou here, oh weary sinful one?" 
 
 Or could I leave the dreary earth behind 
 
 And tread my way o'er unmarked paths of air, 
 
 Past worlds and planetary systems. 
 
 Where all the vast machinery of the 
 
 Universe moves round in perfect rhythm, 
 
 Until my finite mind, confused, was lost 
 
 Amid the star-dust of infinity — 
 
 There I should see the hand which guides the worlds. 
 
 And meet the eye which marked the circle *round 
 
 The universe, ere present Time emerged 
 
The All-Seeing One. 83 
 
 From out the womb of unborn Eternity. 
 
 If I should delve into the earth's damp erust, 
 And hollow out a cold and slimy bed 
 And lay my head within her pulseless breast, 
 And draw the mouldy covering o'er my form, 
 And say "The grave shall hide me from His sight" — 
 Thine eye would mark me there and watch the spot 
 Like the sleepless star on night's dark brow. 
 Till the blinkless stare of that unseen eye 
 Would pierce the mold, and my shrinking dust 
 Would stir till its unturned pillow shook, 
 And writhe, transfixed by that searching gaze. 
 And burrow deeper in its eartby 'bed. 
 Thus would I lie until the angel came 
 To wake the dead; and my wretched dust 
 Up'heaved its mouldy covering and crept 
 Into the presence of that living eye. 
 
 Is there no place where I can hide from God? 
 No night is dark enough to cover me ; 
 Nor earth nor sea can secret hold my dust ; 
 Heaven is not high, nor Hell is deep enough 
 To compass Thee — Oh Thou Who seest all ! 
 Oh heart of mine, there is one hiding pla-^e — 
 Within the riven side of Jesus Christ. 
 I'll hide me there, and rest in peace secure; 
 And through the prism of His God-man heart 
 That eye Avill look, transformed to rays oF hope. 
 
 1906. 
 
84 Cloud Rifts. 
 
 "NOW I SHALL SLEEP " 
 
 Last Words of Lord Bjrron. 
 
 Now I shall sleep; for I am tired of waking. 
 
 The world has been a wanton nurse to me: 
 
 She has not soothed my hurts, nor hushed my crying, 
 
 Nor appeased the cravings of my hunger ; 
 
 But left me alone to fret myself to sleep. 
 
 Now I shall sleep ; nor stir with troubled dreams. 
 
 And when the cold world treads across my bed 
 
 I shall not writhe nor moan, but lie at rest. 
 
 And when they dig again the buried past 
 
 And hang my life's poor skeleton in chains, 
 
 And mock and gibber at its gossiped tale. 
 
 I shall not see its pitiable nakedness. 
 
 And when they speak of me with sneering lips, 
 
 And blame my faults, and execrate my sins. 
 
 Not knowing all the battles that I fought, 
 
 Nor 'gainst what odds I gave the field, 
 
 I shall not hear their blame, nor feel their scorn 
 
 More than the clods upon my curtained bed ; 
 
 For I shall sleep, sweet sleep, and be at rest, 
 
 They cannot hurt me more, for I shall sleep; 
 Nor wake again to dash my wounded heart 
 Against the cage of life. My tortured soul, 
 
Now I Shall Sleep. 85 
 
 Too pure to grovel, and too base to soar, 
 
 No more shall struggle with itself, nor arm 
 
 Against a world, to fling them hate for hate 
 
 And scorn for scorn, and glory in the odds. 
 
 I'll Avar no more, for I am tired of strife; 
 
 And if perchance someone should drop a tear 
 
 Upon my pale, cold cheek, I shall not feel 
 
 It's hot caress, nor send another down 
 
 In company, as I would once have done. 
 
 Nor ope my sealed lips, still proud in death, 
 
 To tell the cruel world how one poor tear 
 
 Had changed my life, if it had traced my cheek 
 
 While it was warm — for I shall sleep, and be at rest. 
 
 I flung my purest pearls before the world; 
 
 What if their luster dimmed compared with some ? 
 
 They were the best I had — I gave them all. 
 
 And looked that they should gather, treasure them. 
 
 Instead they trampled them, and mouthed them o 'er. 
 
 And turned again in rage to rend my heart. 
 
 I was too proud to pick them from the mire 
 
 And wash their streaked stains — I left them there ; 
 
 And from the deep sea of my restless heart 
 
 I dredged its filth and flung it tauntingly 
 
 In the proud world's face — 'twas all that I had left. 
 
 When the world needs pearls they may pick up 
 
 mine ; 
 I shall not want them — I shall be at rest. 
 
 Now I shall sleep; and o'er my troubled soul 
 
86 Cloud Rifts. 
 
 Sweet peace shall settle like the evening dew, 
 
 And all its wild tumultuous strife shall cease. 
 
 And passion's waves shall throb along their shore 
 
 In dreamy cadence, for the storm is past. 
 
 Oh, I was mad to war against the world. 
 
 And think that one weak hand could change its 
 
 course, 
 Or one poor heart o'erwhelm it with its spite! 
 The earth still moves if there is one man less ; 
 And the world is too large to drown itself 
 In the stagnant pool of one 'heart's malice. 
 But who can breast the world's salt sea of scorn, 
 Or stand upon a little desert isle 
 And strain his eyes across the lonely deep 
 And never sight a friendly sail? 
 Hate's birth pangs are its surest, keenest darts; 
 And soon or late revenge comes home again 
 To seek for vengeance; passion's glancing arrow 
 Turns again to wound the spiteful archer. 
 
 I was not born for this ; my horoscope 
 
 Was cast by brighter stars, and Fortune smiled 
 
 When I was born. Was Fortune false to me? 
 
 Or can the will thwart Fortune's bright designs, 
 
 And swerve the planets from their destined course? 
 
 Is there a Providence behind it all? 
 
 A God w^ho loves, or a Law which hates? 
 
 Is there mercy, justice, truth somewhere beyond? 
 
 Or did some fiend but whisper to the soul, 
 
 And mock with hopes of what it cannot find? 
 
Now I Shall Sleep. 87 
 
 If Providence is God, or God is Providence, 
 If either God or Providence exists, 
 If there be such a thing as Chance or Fate, 
 Then come stern Fate or Chance or Providenxje, 
 Wrap me in thine em'brace ! for why should I, 
 Who cannot conquer self, cross swords with Fate, 
 Or measure arms with Providence, 
 If Providence is God ? 
 
 I '11 sleep ; and if there be a heaven for me, 
 
 'Tis one of rest; and if there be a hell, 
 
 It is no worse than earth has been to me; 
 
 And if my bed is made for endless sleep, 
 
 T shall not toss with fevered dreams, nor wake 
 
 To worse realities. If my pillow is hard 
 
 I shall not mind, nor wish for some kind hand 
 
 To make my bed; but I shall lie and sleep, 
 
 Nor feel life's discord jar my lowly bed, 
 
 Until at length my mouldy covering 
 
 Shall mix me with itself, in close embrace, 
 
 And the sleeper and his couch shall be as one. 
 
 So shall I sleep until the thoughtless world 
 Shaill leave their playthings, one by one, 
 And come, like weary children, to lie down 
 With me — too tired to seek a better bed. 
 And friend and foe shall nestle each to each. 
 And choke their passions in the senseless dust, 
 And forget earth strifes. So shall we lie, 
 Lost to life, forgetful of our former state. 
 
88 Cloud Rifts. 
 
 Handfuls of dust in a little niche 
 
 In the ragged universe. So shall we sleep — 
 
 Forever sleep, and be at rest. 
 
 1906. 
 
 WHAT IS DEATH? 
 
 What is death? Is it when the watchers bend, 
 
 With bated breath, above the pale, still form 
 
 To catch the last farewell from whitening lips. 
 
 While the laboring breast, and swelling throat, 
 
 And lines of agony upon the brow. 
 
 And the cold temples wet with the chilling 
 
 Kiss of death mark the stern struggles of the soul 
 
 To disengage itself from ties of flesh. 
 
 While the fluttering heart, in broken rhythm, 
 
 Beats the last measures of the march of life? 
 
 Is it when the weary eyes are closed. 
 
 And the breast is still, and the cold hands folded, 
 
 And the lasting sleep of ages wraps the 
 
 Inanimate form in dreamless slumber? 
 
 Is it when, amid the toll of bells, 
 
 And the ''Ashes to ashes, dust to dust," 
 
 The cold sod presses on the colder clay, 
 
 And the eartli is left to moulder back to earth 
 
 From whence it came, and thus restore sin's pledge? 
 
 Nay ! these are but the harbingers of life ! 
 
What is Death? 89 
 
 The rays which strike athwart earth's deepening 
 
 gloom, 
 Eevealing immortality to man ! 
 These but the messengers which draw aside 
 The vail which hides eternity from time, 
 And teach the secrets of an endless life! 
 This is not death; 'tis but the shadow dim. 
 Cast by his pinions pale, which comes between 
 The soul and earth, eclipsing mortal scenes. 
 
 When from man's heart Grod's image is erased, 
 His birthright sold which made him heir of God, 
 And man has ceased to longer be a man 
 In Grod 's own likeness made — then man is dead ! 
 Though still he walks among his fellow men. 
 And laughs and talks and breathes the breath of life, 
 And moves in living death adown life's way 
 And, dreaming that he lives, knows not his death. 
 When virtue's lamp no longer lig'hts the soul. 
 Death's night is there. 'Tis death Avhen manhood 
 dies! 
 
 Is it death when the soul returns to God, 
 Recalled at His command who gave it birth ? 
 Does the spirit shrink to drop its mortal dress 
 And go unclothed into Eternity? 
 Or rather, like a drooping, captive bird. 
 Pant and strain against its prison bars. 
 And, with an all consuming passion, long 
 To bathe its tired wings in waves of light 
 
90 Cloud Rifts. 
 
 Where freedom pulsates through infinitude? 
 To die is not the whole of dreaded death ; 
 To shrink away beneath God's angry frown 
 And never 'hope to see His face again ; 
 To sink forever in the black aliyss, 
 And feel the pangs of everlasting woe 
 Take hold upon the soul — this is death's sting. 
 'Tis death when from the haven of the breast 
 The dove of hope her mournful flight Avings out 
 Through sin 's deep darkness — never to return ; 
 And clouds of dark despair hang mutt 'ring on the 
 Brow of nig*ht. 'Tis death to die eternally! 
 
 1904. 
 
 THE DOUBLE STANDARD. 
 
 Lift 'her up tenderly! how came she there 
 With the slime of the river matting her hair, 
 And that hunted look in her blue, drawn face, 
 Still fair in death with a girlish grace? 
 No use to feel for her still, cold heart ! 
 The tide of life will no more start ! 
 It ceased to beat long hours ago ; 
 Who knows — perhaps it is 'better so ! 
 Free the limbs from the clinging dress ; 
 Fold the hands lying so motionless ; 
 And hide that look in those staring eyes, 
 Where the dumb despair of a soul still lies! 
 Smooth back the hair 
 
The Double Standard. 91 
 
 Prom that brow of snow; 
 
 A mother's kiss rested there 
 
 Not long ago ! 
 
 Drop a -warm tear. 
 
 And breathe a quick sigh! 
 
 'Tis sad, sad cheer 
 
 When the hopeless die ! 
 
 Look not too closely. Avith curious eyes, 
 Nor lift the brows in feigned surprise ; 
 If she had a secret she kept it well, 
 And those cold, wet lips will never tell. 
 But if death played false and allowed it read, 
 Would you steal a secret from the dead? 
 No ! bury the past in silence deep ; 
 Let her secret share her peaceful sleep. 
 What if two lives, instead of one, 
 This, tired of earth — ^that, scarce begun, 
 Mixed with the river's turbid flood? 
 To speak of it now would do no good; 
 'Twould only spot and tarnisli a name 
 Whose owner is safe from scandal's shame. 
 No ! cover it all with the cold, damp sod ! 
 Leave her and her secret Avith her God ! 
 For heaven has more room than earth. 
 For such as bear ignoble birth. 
 
 Another life caught in the tempter 's snare ! 
 Another soul gone out — Grod knoAvs Avhere ! 
 
92 aoud Rifts. 
 
 Another home with a missing name ! 
 Poor, fair, dead face! was it to blame? 
 So young in years for death to win! 
 So young in the ways of guilt and sin ! 
 'Twas only a little while ago 
 Her maiden breast was pure as snow! 
 And sin, as yet, on her girlish face, 
 Has scarcely left its blighting trace. 
 She was too pure for the ways of sin — 
 Too pure to finish if she did begin. 
 Caught like a bird in a hidden snare. 
 Death was sweeter than captive air! 
 
 Woman ! you who scorn her so, 
 Can your heart no pity know? 
 You with fair and spotless name. 
 Proud of reputation's fame — 
 You were once, too. oh, so near ! 
 What restrained hut servile fear? 
 And if Desire had leagued with Time, 
 And importuned temptation's prime 
 AVhen you were weak — how do you know 
 But you, too, might be lying so ! 
 
 Her's was not a common lust; 
 She was made of nobler dust. 
 See! those marks of girlish grace 
 Show purity in form and face. 
 If she with passion vainly strove. 
 'Twas passion rooted deep in love. 
 
The Double Standard. 93 
 
 Though the fires of passion warped the will, 
 
 'Twas the flame of a sacred passion still. 
 
 For strongest passions, for good or ill, 
 
 In greatest natures ever dwell. 
 
 Caught in a Aveak, unguarded hour, 
 
 The hot blood owned temptation's power; 
 
 The senses reeled at sight of a face, 
 
 The touch of a hand, a wild embrace ; 
 
 Borne in passion's maddening flight, 
 
 The conscience dulled to wrong and right, 
 
 A moment lost what the tears and pain 
 
 Of a lifetime never could regain! 
 
 One bore the double load of shame ; 
 
 One, as before, went on the same. 
 
 One buried her guilt in the river's slime; 
 
 But where is her partner in the crime? 
 
 For tempted man may fall, and sin, 
 
 And the world will lift him up again; 
 
 Fro\ATi for awhile, and then, content, 
 
 Forgive him. nor ask him to repent. 
 
 But woman sins for life and death ; 
 
 When her name is fouled by scandal's breath 
 
 No tears can wash away the stain, 
 
 No penance can restore again. 
 
 Time will not change the mark of Oain, 
 
 Nor bring her womanhood again. 
 
 Man might forgive and trust her yet; 
 
 But woman never can forget. 
 
 More bitter thing than woman's scorn 
 
94 Cloud Rifts. 
 
 For woman's sin was never born! 
 
 'Twas always so, 'Twill ever be ; 
 
 Woman must suffer, man go free. 
 
 Is sin in woman greater sin? 
 
 When, first deceived and tempted in, 
 
 She trusts the tempter to her shame. 
 
 Is tempter or tempted more to blame? 
 
 And would not pity prompt the heart 
 
 To turn and take the weaker 's part? 
 
 Poor, fair, dead face ! it seems to me 
 
 That you were less to blame than he. 
 
 God pity the man who could lead you to this, 
 
 With words of love and a Judas kiss ! 
 
 But pity him more, who could leave you alone 
 
 To bear his guilt beside your own ! 
 
 Poor, fair, dead face ! may your despair 
 
 Touch a chord in the world, somewhere, 
 
 Which will stir its cold and stony heart 
 
 Till the healing tears of mercy start ! 
 
 Oh, why should the human heart be proud 
 
 To the fallen one in sorrow bowed ! 
 
 Who has not battled with the flood. 
 
 On slippery ground, and hardly stood? 
 
 Who has not sinned if he will own ? 
 
 Let him first east the cruel stone ! 
 
 God give us all a charity 
 
 Which hates the sin, where'er it be, 
 
 And yet will weep above the lost, 
 
 And love the sinner tempest-tossed, 
 
The Knight of Walnut Creek. 95 
 
 And seek to lift the fallen one — 
 A love like that of God's own son! 
 
 Farewell, sad face ! farewell to thee ! 
 
 With thy despair and misery 
 
 At God's tribunal to appear; 
 
 You'll find more mercy there than here. 
 
 Soon we shall stand before His face ; 
 
 We, too, shall need His sovereign grace. 
 
 So smooth back the hair 
 
 From that brow of snow ; 
 
 A mother's kiss rested there 
 
 Not long ago ! 
 
 Drop a warm tear, 
 
 And breathe a quick sigh ! 
 
 'Tis sad, sad cheer, 
 
 W'hen the hopeless die! 
 
 1907. 
 
 THE KNIGHT OF WALNUT CREEK. 
 
 He was only a common looking man. 
 
 With an honest face and frank, brown eyes ; 
 
 And nothing about him to make you think 
 
 That this was a hero in disguise. 
 
 His health broke down where he lived, in the east, 
 
 And the doctors said his lungs were weak. 
 
 And ordered him west for the mountain air: 
 
96 Cloud Sifts. 
 
 So 'he came to the camp on Walnut Creek, 
 
 His name — ^but no matter about his name; 
 
 Like others 'twas soon forgotten there, 
 
 Where each one carried some strange nick-name 
 
 Appropriate to his character. 
 
 The miners called him "a strange young chap," 
 
 For he didn't smoke, and he never swore; 
 
 He hated cards, and he would not drink. 
 
 Nor loaf in the one saloon and store. 
 
 And the miners, all with one accord, 
 
 Ke-christened him, and there and then. 
 
 They buried the name he brought from the east, 
 
 And dubbed him "Parson" — "Parson Ben." 
 
 He only smiled when he beard the name. 
 And seemed to be more amused than vexed ; 
 And many a sermon he preached to them, 
 In his quiet way, without a text. 
 And he climbed the hills and filled his lungs 
 With the pure, pine-scented, mountain air; 
 And his chest grew broad, and 'his face grew brown, 
 And he took on life a new lease there. 
 He throve in spite of his strange nick-name, 
 And explored the country everywhere; 
 Until "Parson Ben" and "Bronco Gyp," 
 On Walnut Creek, were a well-known pair. 
 
 Gyp was a beautiful buckskin mare. 
 
 Fleet as the wind on her native hills ; 
 
 But she would not yield to the hand of man, 
 
The Knight of Walnut Creek. 97 
 
 And they tried in vain to break her will. 
 For she loved the wild, free mountain life, 
 And scorned to be ruled by any man ; 
 And at last, in despair, they gave it up, 
 And placed her under the outlaw ban. 
 And because she seemed, in her nature Avild, 
 Like the roving, fortune-telling race, 
 They called her Gypsy, or Bronco Gyp, 
 And she bore the name with fitting grace. 
 A modern Ishmael out on the hills. 
 With spirit free as the mountain air ; 
 And the boldest cowboy hardly cared 
 To set his spurs in the Gypsy mare. 
 
 They drove her into the camp one day. 
 
 And the Parson seemed to understand 
 
 Her nature wild; for he petted and coaxed, 
 
 And gently caressed her with his hand. 
 
 And it seemed that a bond of sympathy, 
 
 Which sprang from their mutual loneliness, 
 
 Bound them together; for misery 
 
 Pities its kind, though a brute, or less. 
 
 So kindness accomplished what force could not, 
 
 For the Parson rode her everywhere ; 
 
 And she learned to come at her master's call, 
 
 A privilege no one else could share. 
 
 She owned no master but Parson Ben, 
 
 And her nature seemed half bad, half good; 
 
 As if a strain from some noble line 
 
 Had mixed with the fierv bronco "blood. 
 
98 Cloud Rdfts. 
 
 So Gyp and 'her master became fast friends, 
 
 And you seldom saw them far apart; 
 
 And he found in the brute more faithfulness 
 
 Than dwells in many a human heart. 
 
 He built him a shack and staked a claim, 
 
 And went to work with pick and pan, 
 
 And the water sluiced from the dam above. 
 
 To glean the gold from the fields of sand, 
 
 And he took the fever — the thirst for gold ; 
 
 No leech can assuage its wasting pains! 
 
 While he worked by day, and dreamed by night, 
 
 Like molten fire it burned his veins ! 
 
 And he watched the thread of yellow gold, 
 
 As it loitered behind the common sand, 
 
 And thought that his fortune at Walnut Creek 
 
 Was nearly in reach of his eager hand. 
 
 And be ithought of his mother, far away. 
 And somebody else who watched for him, 
 And vowed, ere another year had passed. 
 To carry back health and wealth to them. 
 But man's best laid plans are overruled; 
 And Providence came and laid his hand, 
 With blighting touch on his golden dreams, 
 And hid his fortune in the shifting sand. 
 
 A fortnight had the leaden skies bent down 
 And wept above the sullen, sodden earth ; 
 And every rivulet a torrent poured, 
 And every canyon gave a river birth ; 
 
The Knight of Walnut Creek. 99 
 
 When a hurried rumor floated down, *;<,iri 
 
 That the dam on upper Walnut Creek, 
 
 Where the water supply of the camp was stored, 
 
 Was full to the brim and growing weak. 
 
 They paid small heed to the warning given ; 
 
 The dam had stood there many a year — 
 
 It had rained before, and it did not break — 
 
 And they laughed it off as a groundless fear. 
 
 But the parson's mind was ill at ease; 
 
 The night came on but he eould not sleep. 
 
 He thought of the dam, with its restless charge, 
 
 And the walls of the canyon high and steep. 
 
 So at length he saddled the faithful Gyp, 
 
 And started alone, through the s^tarless night, 
 
 To ride ten miles to the reservoir 
 
 And convince himself that all was right. 
 
 'Twas a wild, dark night! the rain came down 
 
 In fitful gusts, wind-swept and driven. 
 
 The shivering earth, in her dripping shroud, 
 
 Stared up at a dull, unchanging heaven. 
 
 The storm fiends howled through the canyons deep, 
 
 And shrieked 'round the jutting crags o'er head. 
 
 The stately pines in the darkness Availed, 
 
 Like spirits mourning o'er the dead. 
 
 As if a night from the nether world 
 
 Had wrapped the earth in its midnight gloom, 
 
 And demons, safe in its ample folds. 
 
 Had gatherd to witness the coming doom. 
 
]00 Oloud Rifts. 
 
 'Twas a wild, Avild night! the biting wind 
 Caught the breath from his shivering lips, 
 As he bent his head in the driving storm 
 To reassure the restless Gyp. 
 And the mare, with eager head bent low. 
 Searched the road, while her iron-shod feet, 
 Now on the turf, and now on the rocks, 
 With measured rhythm steadily beat. 
 Till at length they climbed the last steep hill, 
 And the reservoir was full in sight; 
 Parting, with misty, ghost-like gleam, 
 The saWe curtains of the night. 
 
 A moment he looked — and his heart stood still — 
 
 Then leaped in suffocating beats — 
 
 The race was full, and the muddy flood 
 
 Was pouring over the dam in sheets ! 
 
 The canyons, up on the mountain side, 
 
 Were sending down their turbid store ; 
 
 And well he knew that in less than an hour 
 
 The Walnut dam would be no more ! 
 
 And he thought of the sleeping camp below — 
 
 And he thought of death — for life was sweet — 
 
 And he shuddered at thought of a nameless grave, 
 
 With cold, wet sand for a winding sheet — 
 
 And he thought of his mother's patient face — 
 
 And the bright-eyed girl who loved him so — 
 
 Then he thought of duty — and caught Gyp's rein 
 
 And turned her head to the camp below! 
 
 And then, through the dark and lowering night, 
 
The Knight of Walnut Creek. 101 
 
 The terrible midnight race began 
 
 With the raging floods which chafed and beat 
 
 Against the barriers raised by man. 
 
 The stake was life ; and the umpire, Death, 
 
 Leaned from the reservoir behind ; 
 
 And the tall pines bent their heads to watch. 
 
 And shrieked the news to the restless wind. 
 
 And Gypsy seemed to feel the need, 
 
 And know^ that this was no common race; 
 
 And her spirit rose in quick disdain, 
 
 Ready to match the wild flood's pace! 
 
 And with one ear bent to her rider's voice, 
 
 And the other searching the gloom ahead. 
 
 And with every sense alert and keen. 
 
 She hurled herself o'er the rough roadbed. 
 
 And ever the darkness closed them in, 
 And clung like a sable winding-sheet. 
 Save now and then, Avhen an angered flint. 
 Struck by a blow from the iron-shod feet. 
 In sudden wrath flung out a shower of sparks. 
 Which a moment flashed with sickly light; 
 And startled the eye with their sudden gleam — 
 Then vanished in the hungry jaws of night. 
 
 Three times the rising torrent barred their way, 
 Wliere the road, by canyon walls hemmed in, 
 Crossed to the other side to find its way, 
 And through some narrow pass its freedom win. 
 And three times Gypsy bathed her reeking flanks 
 
102 Cloud Rifts. 
 
 And cooled lier nostrils in the waters chilly 
 
 And flung the drops from her flowing mane 
 
 And bounded on, undaunted still. 
 
 But once again the ravenous flood 
 
 Had eaten the fickle road away; 
 
 The current was strong, and the stream was deep, 
 
 But death was behind and they dared not stay. 
 
 But Gypsy was spent with the terrible pace, 
 And she dared not breast the current deep; 
 And for once she crossed her master's will, 
 Appalled by the water's angry sweep. 
 And sullenly stood with drooping head 
 And heaving flanks, and trembling frame, 
 And quivering nostrils, flaring wide. 
 Like the crimson heart of living flame. 
 Her instinct conquered her loyalty; 
 And when all his arts in vain he had tried. 
 He caught his breath with a shivering sob, 
 And struck the spurs in her reeking side. 
 Then the old fire flashed in her eyes again, 
 And leaped once more in her untamed blood ; 
 And, with something akin to a human groan, 
 She flung herself in the raging flood. 
 
 The cruel current was wild and strong 
 And seemed to mock the dizzy eye. 
 She stumbled once — 'he caught his breath ; 
 And the stream rushed on with hoarser cry. 
 But at last thev reached the further side. 
 
The Knight of Walnut Creek. 103 
 
 And, panting, emerged from the baffled stream ; 
 And in the distance, throug'h the gloom, 
 He caught a candle's feeble gleam. 
 
 He knew that the camp was near at hand, 
 
 And the weary ride was almost done; 
 
 Already he breathed a silent prayer 
 
 That the camp was safe, the race was won. 
 
 But suddenlj^ through the cold night air 
 
 An ominous shiver crept and thrilled ! 
 
 A sudden tremor shook the earth, 
 
 And a rumbling sound all others stilled! 
 
 No need to question from whence it came ! 
 
 The dam had burst ! The floods were out ! 
 
 Hurrying down the narrow gorge. 
 
 Carrying death in their fateful rout ! 
 
 No need of spurs for his worn steed now ! 
 
 A moment she stood, with bated breath. 
 
 And trem'bling limbs, then wild with fear. 
 
 She madly fled from the coming death. 
 
 For well she knew the threatening sound 
 
 That tears its way through the shuddering air, 
 
 When the floods roll down the granite rocks 
 
 And grind and churn the canyon bare! 
 
 The menacing sound behind them hung. 
 And thrilled through the night air, cold and damp. 
 Half clioked by the canyons tortuous course, 
 When they entered the silent, sleeping camp. 
 One — two — three ! the pistol shots 
 
104 Cloud Rifts. 
 
 Cut their way through the wintry night. 
 One — two — three, they spoke again ; 
 In every dwelling flashed a light. 
 For well they knew that one Avho rode. 
 On that wild night, tlirough wind and rain 
 Carried some news of great import, 
 Which would never need to be told again. 
 And they thronged about the rider there, 
 But he only gasped, "The reservoir," 
 And horse and rider fell in a heap; 
 But the rest was told by the sullen roar. 
 
 They lifted his form in their brawuy arms 
 And bore him up the mountain side, 
 Safe from the hungry, baffled flood. 
 Which filled the gorge with its angry tide. 
 But Gypsy's final run was made; 
 She had won the race at the cost of life; 
 And she stretched her weary, matchless limbs, 
 And closed her eyes on bronco life. 
 
 Then life, for weeks, was a blank to him, 
 
 For a raging fever scorched his veins. 
 
 They carried hi}n dowm to the nearest town. 
 
 Where the doctor strove to ease his pains. 
 
 And his mother, and somebody, came from the east, 
 
 And nursed him back to life and health ; 
 
 And he found the wreck of the reservoir 
 
 Had swept aw^ay his dreams of wealth. 
 
 So he turned his back on Walnut Creek, 
 
Home From To^vn. 105 
 
 To make his home in eastern hinds ; 
 
 And took back a fortune, better far 
 
 Tlian any hidden in golden sands. 
 
 They gathered around to say good-bye, 
 
 With tears on their honest, rough, bro-v\'n cheeks; 
 
 And gave him a pair of silver spurs, 
 
 And dubbed him the "Knight of Walnut Creek." 
 
 On the walls of a happy home, back east, 
 
 The silver spurs hang, shining bright; 
 
 And beside them a worn and rusted pair, 
 
 Just as he wore them, that awful night, 
 
 When he raced with the floods and saved the camp 
 
 From the wrathful water's icy grip. 
 
 And w^on his spurs from the hand of death. 
 
 And rode to knighthood on Bronco Gyp. 
 
 1903. 
 
 HOME FROM TOWN. 
 
 Oh dear ! what a long, long day ! 
 
 And the sun is most gone down. 
 I 'm as lonesome as I can be ! 
 
 For Papa has gone to town. 
 I've carried in the kindling. 
 
 And driven the cows all home — 
 Rover and I together — 
 
 And still Papa hasn't eome. 
 
106 Cloud Rifts. 
 
 I've been to the gate to look 
 
 About ten times, or more, 
 But I couldn 't see or hear him ; 
 
 He was never so late before ! 
 Sister is close by the window, 
 
 All ready to jump and run 
 As soon 'as I see him coming; 
 
 She thinks it's lots of fun. 
 
 "We'll run a race to meet him, 
 When we hear the wagon rumble, 
 
 But I'll hold tight to Sister's hand. 
 For fear that she might tumble. 
 
 She can't run fast, she's only four. 
 
 And I'm past six you know; 
 
 But I won't run away from her 
 If she goes ever so slow ! 
 
 For Mamma says it isn't nice 
 
 For me to run away, 
 Or tease my little Sister, 
 
 Or be selfish when we play; 
 For she is just a little girl. 
 
 And I'm almost a man. 
 And must be kind to little girls, 
 
 And help them all I can. 
 
 I asked Mamma, the other day, 
 
 How long she thought it 'ud be 
 'Till I'd 'be as big as Papa. 
 
Home From Town. 107 
 
 And she smiled, and looked at me 
 And said, "Not very long I guess; 
 
 If yon keep growing like this, 
 I'm sure you'll be a man some day 
 
 Before your Mother is." 
 
 And Papa he just laughed and laughed, 
 
 And Mamma smiled at me, 
 As if there was a joke somewhere; 
 
 I don 't know what it could be ! 
 Uncle John he rubbed my chin, 
 
 And said, "I do declare. 
 He'll soon be growing whiskers! 
 
 I feel them sprouting there!" 
 
 Oh dear! the sun is down at last! 
 
 He '11 surely be here soon ! 
 It's getting dark way down the road; 
 
 Its' a long, long ways to town! 
 Uncle John and I milked the cows, 
 
 And fed the horses hay. 
 Mamma is in the kitchen ; 
 
 She told me to run away, 
 
 And go and watch for Papa ; 
 
 She was busy as she could be ; 
 And where was little Sister? 
 
 And told me to run and see. 
 I watched her setting the table, 
 
 And she opened the oven door; 
 
108 Cloud Rifts. 
 
 Whew ! I smelt something good in there ! 
 Something for supper, most sure! 
 
 I wish I could hear the wagon ! 
 
 When I do, won't we run though? 
 And when Papa sees us coming 
 
 He '11 pull on the lines and * ' Whoa ! ' ' 
 He'll lift us into the wagon, 
 
 Behind old Prince and Ben, 
 On the high spring seat beside him, 
 
 And then drive on again. 
 
 I'll tell him I drove the cows home, 
 
 And helped to milk them too ; 
 And he'll call me his little man : 
 
 And he wouldn't know what to do 
 Without me and little Sister, 
 
 And kiss her and call her pet ; 
 And he woudn't trade his baby 
 
 For any that he'd seen yet! 
 
 Uncle John '11 be waiting 
 
 To unhitch Prince and Ben, 
 And lead them down to the barn ; 
 
 And the door will open then. 
 And Mama '11 be there to meet us — 
 
 Papa and Sister and me — 
 Each Avith a load of parcels 
 
 And guessing what they Avill be. 
 
 We'll put them in the pantry, 
 
Home From Town. 109 
 
 And then we'll hurry back, 
 And look through Papa's pockets 
 
 For the little paper sack 
 That he has hidden somewhere, 
 
 To tease us just for fun. 
 And have us hunt and coax him; 
 
 For he always brings us one. 
 
 And sometimes he will hide it 
 
 In the very queerest way! 
 And its lots of fun to hunt it — ' 
 
 Once he came home this way, 
 And we just hunted and hunted! 
 
 And Papa laughed so sly, 
 'Till we thought there wasn't any, 
 
 And Sister was 'bout to cry; 
 
 When Papa looked at Mamma, 
 
 And I'm sure I saw him wink, 
 And he said, "The price of oats 
 
 Is going up I think. ' ' 
 And Mamma looked in the box 
 
 Where he took the eggs to town, 
 All put to ibed in the oats, 
 
 To keep 'em from jolting 'round, 
 
 And said, "It seems to me 
 
 There's more than oats in here; 
 The grocer made a mistake 
 
 And left some eggs I fear. ' ' 
 
110 Cloud Rifts. 
 
 And so we went to digging 
 
 And made the oats just fly; 
 And what do you think we found 
 
 Hidden in there so sly? 
 
 Not eggs, but a bag of goodies! 
 
 And we gave Mamma the best, 
 For helping us to find them; 
 
 For we never could have guessed! 
 And Papa looked so surprised! 
 
 Pretending he didn't know 
 How they ever came to be there; 
 
 I'll het you he did, though! 
 
 Then when Papa's feet are Avarm, 
 
 And Uncle John comes in, 
 We'll all sit down to supper. 
 
 Then Papa he'll begin 
 And tell us what he saw in town; 
 
 And how a great, big train 
 Came puffing down the track 
 
 And frightened Prince and Ben ! 
 
 And how he took the load of corn 
 
 To that great, big, tall bin. 
 And tilted the wagon up 
 
 And let it all slide in, 
 SAvish ! down into a great, big hole, 
 
 With about a hundred wheels 
 Awhirling 'round so fast 
 
 You couldn 't see their heels ! 
 
Home From Town. Ill 
 
 And how he got the groc'ries, 
 
 Down at the red brick store — 
 My! it's a great big house! 
 
 Big as our barn and more ! 
 And what a lot of things there is 
 
 Stacked up against the wall ! 
 And cans with pictures on 'em! 
 
 It's a wonder they don't fall! 
 
 And piles and piles of candy! 
 
 And the nicest little cakes ! 
 But you musn't touch the glass, 
 
 For it's li'ble to hreak ! 
 And barrels and barrels of sugar! 
 
 More than all of us could eat 
 In a hundred years, I guess! 
 
 Say! wouldn't it be a treat? 
 
 And you stand out on the sidewalk — 
 
 Close up beside the door — 
 Or those men with the great big vests 
 
 "Will knock you down most sure — 
 And all the men are walking 
 
 As fast as they can go. 
 Some one way and some the other; 
 
 I wonder what they do ? 
 
 I wonder where they live? 
 Or if they have a home, 
 And a little boj^ to meet them 
 
112 Cloud Kifts. 
 
 In the evening when they come? 
 I wonder if they walk all night? 
 
 I should think that they'd get tired, 
 And sit down to rest sometimes, 
 
 Like the man that Papa hired. 
 
 And then the sprinkle wagon 
 
 Comes jolting down the street; 
 With the man wlio drives the horses 
 
 Way up on the big, high seat. 
 And he turns a little wheel, 
 
 And Zip! the water goes! 
 But you mustn't get near the street, 
 
 It'll spatter on your clothes! 
 
 And then, when supper's over. 
 
 Papa will stir the fire 
 Out in the parlor stove. 
 
 And turn the lamp up higher. 
 And M'amma will wash the dishes. 
 
 And put 'em all away. 
 Up on the shelves, where I can't reach; 
 
 But I '11 be tall enough some day ! 
 
 Sometimes I help 'her wash 'em, 
 When she 's in a 'hurry you know ; 
 
 With lan apron 'round my neck, 
 That reaches to my toe. 
 
 And I play the knives are fishes. 
 And catch 'em with a fork; 
 
Home From Town. 113 
 
 Aud Mamma kisses me and says, 
 That many hands make lig:ht work. 
 
 And then we'll g'o to the parlor, 
 
 And M'amma will get her sewing ; 
 And Papa and Uncle John '11 read 
 
 What the polyticks are doing; 
 And Sister and I will play 
 
 Keep house, or hide and seek, 
 Or I '11 be an old black bear, 
 
 And catch her and bite her cheek. 
 
 Then Papa '11 say, "You shavers 
 
 Are making too much noise ! ' ' 
 And Mamma '11 say "That isn't nice 
 
 For little girls and boys!" 
 Then we'll get our picture book 
 
 And spread it out on the floor, 
 Or take it to Uncle John, 
 
 And tease him to tell us more 
 
 About the animals in it — 
 
 The tall, long-necked giraffe — 
 And the elephant's funny trunk — 
 
 And the monkeys that make you laug'h — 
 And the terrible ho- 'stricter. 
 
 Bigger 'n lour stove pipe round ! 
 "With his tail hooked up in a tree, 
 
 And his head most to the ground ! 
 
 Sister will soon get sleepy, 
 
114 Cloud Rifts. 
 
 And lay her curly head 
 On Uncle John's big shoulder; 
 
 And Mamma will put her to bed. 
 Sister gets sleepy early; 
 
 She 's only four you know ; 
 I'm most a man, and I could wait 
 
 Until the big folks go ! 
 
 But Mamma will look at me, 
 
 Then look up at the clock — 
 It never goes to bed ; 
 
 All night it says tick, tock — 
 And say, "Somebody's sleepy; 
 
 Dreamland's not far away; 
 I think I see the Sandman 
 
 Coming around this waj'. " 
 
 And then she'll get the Bible 
 
 Anti lay it on Papa's knee, 
 And set my little chair 
 
 Close up to hers, for me — 
 It's the big one Papa reads from, 
 
 "With the yelloAv letters on it; 
 So big I can hardly lift it ! 
 
 There's lots of pictures in it! 
 
 Angels with long white wings. 
 
 And rings around their heads; 
 And men with swords and queer, round caps- 
 
 Thev're soldiers. Mamma said; 
 
Home Pi'om Town. 115 
 
 And Noah's ark, most like the one 
 That Santa Clans bronght me, 
 
 With birds and an'mals coming in 
 As far as you can see ! 
 
 Sometimes, on Sunday afternoon. 
 
 When you mustn't make much noise, 
 And everybody's quiet, 
 
 And you don't care for your toys, 
 Mamma lets us take it 
 
 And sit down on the floor — 
 But you have to turn 'em easy; 
 
 For fear that they get tore ! 
 
 Maybe he '11 read about the l)easts, - 
 
 With two or three heads or more. 
 All full of eyes, and great long horns 
 
 Asticking out before ! 
 One night I dreamed I saw one 
 
 Acoming after me ! 
 My ! but he looked awful fierce ! 
 
 I was as seared as I could be ! 
 
 And when I tried to run away. 
 
 My feet just wouldn't go ! 
 And my throat it couldn't holler! 
 
 I didn't know what to do ! 
 Just then I saw 'old Rover 
 
 Come running up to me, 
 And I sicked Rover on him ! 
 
 He was mad as he could be! 
 
116 Cloud Rifts. 
 
 But Rover nipped him on the heel, 
 
 Like he does Sooky Bess, 
 And just then I woke up in bed — 
 
 But Rover fixed him I guess! 
 I'll bet you he'll be careful 
 
 How he chases me again, 
 When Rover's there to bite him. 
 
 And run him to his den ! 
 
 Then Mamma will take me in, 
 
 And tuck me into bed. 
 And smooth my hair back, so, 
 
 And kiss me on the forehead. 
 And then I'll hear them talking. 
 
 And Papa shaking the grate, 
 And Mamma winding the clock. 
 
 And saying, "It's getting late." 
 
 Then Uncle John will go upstairs; 
 
 My! what a noise he makes! 
 And every time he steps 
 
 The whole stair seems to shake! 
 And then I'll be so sleepy 
 
 My eyes will shut up fast — 
 I hear a wagon rattling! 
 
 Papa is coming at last! 
 
 1907. 
 
To November. 117 
 
 TO NOVEMBER. 
 
 The sun hangs low o'er the southern isles; 
 
 The air is chill, and the earth is cold ; 
 The flowers sleep fast in their winter bed; 
 
 November is here, and the year is old. 
 The wild winds race through the stubblefields, 
 
 And hurry the russet leaves away ; 
 And the green of earth, and the blue of sky, 
 
 Have faded out to a sober gray. 
 For the summer is in the sheaf, 
 
 And the year is in his fall; 
 But he crowns our heads with blessings, 
 
 And God's love is over all! 
 
 November is here, so reckless and wild ! 
 
 With a ready embrace for one and all; 
 But his hand is cold, and his lips are chill, 
 
 And the frost clings close where his breath may 
 fall ! 
 His beard sweeps low across his breast, 
 
 Matted with ice from the northern bleak; 
 And he wears a mantle of snowflake down, 
 
 Where the wanton winds play hide and seek. 
 For the summer is in the sheaf, 
 
 And the year is in his fall; 
 But he crowns our heads with blessings. 
 
 And God 's love is over all ! 
 
118 Cloud Kifts. 
 
 November is here, so bold and free! 
 
 Rollicking, frolicking everywhere ! 
 He snatches a kiss from the modest brook. 
 
 And chuckles aloud at her icy stare ! 
 He stamps througli the fields and down the lane, 
 
 And frightens the leaves from their winter beds; 
 And wrestles the trees, in boisterous sport, 
 
 'Till they creak and strain and bow their heads! 
 For the summer is in the sheaf, 
 
 And the year is in his fall ; 
 But he crowns our heads with blessings, 
 
 And God's love is over all! 
 
 All hail ! November, bleak and bare ! 
 
 AVe welcome you back with open arms ! 
 You're a merry old month, despite your age! 
 
 If your touch is chill, your heart is warm! 
 For you shake your frosty locks in glee. 
 
 And we laugh the cares of a year away; 
 And forget your dress of leaden hue. 
 
 When you bring the glad Thanksgiving day! 
 For the summer is in the sheaf. 
 
 And the year is in his fall ; 
 But he crowns our heads with blessings. 
 
 And Grod's love is over all! 
 
 You have robbed the year, in his helpless age, 
 
 And taken away his golden hoard ! 
 You have plundered his wealth, from hill and plain, 
 
 And heaped it upon the festal board ! 
 
My Sweetheart. 119 
 
 And we feast with yon, and praise the One 
 
 At whose command the years increase, 
 And the seasons bring their lavish store, 
 
 And time is crowned with the buds of peace. 
 For the summer is in the sheaf, 
 
 And the year is in his fall; 
 But he crowns our heads with blessings. 
 
 And God 's love is over all ! 
 
 1905. 
 
 MY SWEETHEART. 
 
 I met her one day in the month of June, 
 
 When my heart and the world were all in tune ; 
 
 And a blossom smiled on every thorn. 
 
 And love and joy seemed newly born. 
 
 Her face was fair as a fairy dream ; 
 
 Her form like the fancies that only seem. 
 
 I met her by chance, that day in June, 
 
 At a turn of the road, as I walked alone ; 
 
 And the lashes, which fringed her laughing eyes, 
 
 Were lifted to mine in glad surprise ; 
 
 And she shyly held her hand to me. 
 
 And whispered softly "Oome and see!" 
 
 And she looked in my face and smiled, 
 
 And she stole my heart away; 
 And locked it up in her maiden breast — 
 
 And it never can get awav! 
 
120 Cloud Rifts. 
 
 She led me in through her palace door : 
 A beautiful carpet covered the floor; 
 And the roof o'er head was living green, 
 "With patches of blue flung in between; 
 And the walls were every shade and hue 
 . That an artist ever tried to do ! 
 Then she led me into arbored bowers, 
 That shook perfume, and glowed with flowers, 
 And ravished my ears with warbled notes 
 Of music, poured from a thousand throats. 
 And songs flung out from hearts all rife — 
 Delirious with the joy of life! 
 And she looked in my face and smiled. 
 
 And she stole my heart aAvay; 
 And locked it up in her maiden breast — 
 
 And it never can get away! 
 
 She opened the doors of her treasure cell. 
 
 And showed me the jewels she loved so well ; 
 
 Brighter than gems, in their dreamless sleep 
 
 Wrapped in their earth-beds, cold and deep. 
 
 The pebbles that gleamed in a tiny rill 
 
 Which capered and danced and was never still. 
 
 A patch of moss, of emerald green. 
 
 And a fungus, Avrought like crystal sheen. 
 
 A butterfly, gay innocent thing, 
 
 With the tint of the rainbow in its wing. 
 
 Brighter than all the hues of art. 
 
 A dewdrop caught in a daisy's heart! 
 
 A bee that droned to a clover bloom. 
 
My Sweetheart. 121 
 
 And ravished its nectar to carry home, 
 
 And left as tribute for stolen sweet, 
 
 Fine flakes of gold from his laden feet. 
 
 A little brook, that tumbled and fell 
 
 From a cozy nook in the woodland dell, 
 
 And chattered and laughed at its own gay pranks, 
 
 Then hid away 'neath the grassy banks. 
 
 And challenged the buttercups, staid and meek, 
 
 To a romping game of hide and seek ! 
 
 The minnows that sported in the pool. 
 
 In the shade of tlie alders fresh and cool. 
 
 With their silver coats, which changed to gold, 
 
 When the sun, impertinent and bold. 
 
 Peeped through the rents in the alder's green 
 
 And checkered the pool with shade and sheen. 
 
 A little frog that sat on a cress. 
 
 Proud of himself in his new spring dress, 
 
 And blinked his eyes with a knowing air. 
 
 And gazed at me with a saucy stare. 
 
 A snail, with his cottage on his back, 
 
 Creeping along in his tedious track. 
 
 Who shrank indoors, in pained surprise. 
 
 And stared at me with his horn-like eyes. 
 
 A squirrel that bickered Avith a jay 
 
 Who had slyly filched his dinner aw^ay — 
 
 The very last nut from his winter store, 
 
 And for three long months he could get no more — 
 
 While the culprit jeered and mocked his grief. 
 
 And screamed in derision, thief-thief -thief ! 
 
 A hidden nest on a leafy bough. 
 
122 Cloud Sifts. 
 
 Woven and fashioned — I know not how; 
 
 Three snow-white eggs with flecks of gold, 
 
 And a mother bird, by love made bold. 
 
 Fluttering near with piteous ery, 
 
 Begging, with heart and voice and eye. 
 
 For home and the precious treasure there; 
 
 Brave little heart, she need not fear! 
 
 'Tis sacred ground ; no hand of mine 
 
 Shall e'er profane that trust divine! 
 
 These few I have told, and many more. 
 
 She showed me out of her treasure store ; 
 
 Till my foot steps lagged, and I turned aside, 
 
 Where a little paradise I spied — 
 
 A delicate couch of velvet green. 
 
 With figures of flowers and ferns wroug'ht in ; 
 
 And fans that stirred the scented air, 
 
 And dreamy harps that played somewhere ! 
 
 And I laid my head on her pulsing breast, 
 
 And she kissed my cheek, and soothed me to rest. 
 
 And she looked in my face and smiled, 
 
 And she stole my heart away; 
 
 And locked it up in her maiden hreast — 
 
 And it never can get away ! 
 
 I have met her often since that day, 
 Wlien first she stole my heart away. 
 She has always a secret for me to hear. 
 Some new delight for the eye or the ear. 
 Sometimes her dress is bright and gay. 
 Sometimes 'tis a dull and sober gray; 
 
To Puget Sound. 123 
 
 Whatever the hue of the dress may be, 
 It matters not, 'tis the same to me. 
 Sometimes her mood is light and jolly, 
 Sometimes pensive, or melancholy; 
 But Avhatever her mood may chaaiee to be. 
 There is always a welcome there for me. 
 For she looked in my face and smiled, 
 
 And she stole my heart away ; 
 And locked it up in lier maiden breast — 
 
 And it never can get away ! 
 
 1907. 
 
 TO PUGET SOUND. 
 
 Oh, for a breath of spicy air 
 
 From the pine-clad hills so fresh and fair! 
 
 Clothed in their robes of living green, 
 
 Softened by summer's hazy sheen, 
 
 Or flashing out with a brighter glow. 
 
 Hung with festoons of gleaming snow. 
 
 Immortal hues, which never change 
 
 To suit the fickle season 's range ; 
 
 But in summer mild, or winter keen, 
 
 They dress alike in their deep, dark green. 
 
 And the summer zephyr, with cunning stealth, 
 
 Steals away their spicy wealth; 
 
 And the winter 'blast, with prodigal hand, 
 
 Scatters their treasure o'er the land. 
 
 Oh pine-ci;i(l hills so fresh and fair! 
 
 A year of life, for a breath of air! 
 
124 Cloud Rifts. 
 
 Oh, for a single 'hour to lie 
 
 'Neath the stately pines where the zephyrs sigh ! 
 The ground with soft brown needles spread, 
 And a pile of cones to pillow the head, 
 And the flickering sunlight's broken rays 
 Chase the shadows through tangled maze, 
 And the chipmunk scolds the saucy jay, 
 Till both take fright and scamper away. 
 And the dreamy buzz and hum and purr 
 Blend with the pulse's lazy stir, 
 And the listless senses close the eyes, 
 To dream of home or of paradise. 
 A year of life, for an hour to lie 
 'Neath the stately pines Avhere the zephyrs sigh! 
 
 1906. 
 
 TO POVERTY. 
 
 I'm broke — dead broke — I haven't a Cx,:^c! 
 
 No ekurch mouse poor as I! 
 
 If fifteen cents would save my life, 
 
 I'd surely have to die! 
 
 With every sun 
 
 There comes a dun, 
 
 The ink still moist and damp; 
 
 But my last red cent 
 
 It lately went 
 
 To buy a postage stamp. 
 
 And 'tis no use 
 
 To give abuse. 
 
To Poverty. 125 
 
 You can 't get blood from a turnip ! 
 
 They Avaste their time ; 
 
 I scribble a rhyme 
 
 On the back of the dun — then burn it ! 
 
 'Tis no disgrace to be poor, they say, 
 
 But it's very inconvenient, 
 
 When you sound the depths of your pocketbook 
 
 And there isn't a copper in it! 
 
 But I've board and bed 
 
 For a week ahead, 
 
 And what is the use to worry ? 
 
 Just broke once more, 
 
 As often before ; 
 
 'Tis only the same old story! 
 
 To the heart that is young. 
 
 And the will that is strong, 
 
 There are worse things than poverty; 
 
 But of all 'neath the sun, 
 
 A red lined dun 
 
 Is the ugliest thing to me ! 
 
 But what if my purse is limp and lean, 
 
 And Fortune is out with me? 
 
 There are better things than a well fed purse, 
 
 That still are left to me. 
 
 'Tis a great deal worse 
 
 To carry a purse 
 
 That weighs the conscience down; 
 
 And my last poor cent 
 
126 Cloud Rifts. 
 
 That came and went, 
 
 Wore an honest face of brown. 
 
 And I'd rather look 
 
 At my pocketbook, 
 
 With nothing to hold it apart, 
 
 Than stuffed with gold 
 
 That avarice told, 
 
 As the price of a broken heart ! 
 
 j\Iouey will come, and money will go. 
 
 And things will have their price. 
 
 But Fortune 's wheel is never still ; 
 
 When lowest, 'tis sure to rise. 
 
 But a spotless name. 
 
 And an honest fame, 
 
 And the trust of our fellow men, 
 
 When once they are lost. 
 
 Where the paths have crossed, 
 
 They seldom come back again! 
 
 And an honest heart, 
 
 And a brave man's part, 
 
 At peace with God and man, 
 
 Is more than the gold 
 
 That ^lammon has told. 
 
 Since first the Avorld began ! 
 
 1907. 
 
The Man With Nothing to Do. 127 
 
 THE MAN WITH NOTHING TO DO. 
 
 You'll find him on the corner, 
 
 With an empty box for a seat, 
 
 With a soft pine stick and a pocket knife, 
 
 And a pile of shavings at his feet. 
 
 He isn't a tramp, he isn't a bum; 
 
 But he sits the whole day through. 
 
 And whittles away on his soft pine stick — 
 
 He's the man with nothing to do ! 
 
 He's a harmless sort of creature, 
 
 He never did any wrong; 
 
 In fact he never did anything. 
 
 But whittle the whole day long. 
 
 He shifts his seat Avhen the box gets tired, 
 
 and settles to work anew. 
 
 And takes to himself another stick; 
 
 He has nothing else to do ! 
 
 He is deeply versed in politics. 
 
 And the gossip of the town ; 
 
 He knows all about the farm products, 
 
 And if prices are up or down. 
 
 He knows the news of the neighborhood. 
 
 And is willing to tell it, too ; 
 
 It helps to while away the time ; 
 
 He has nothing else to do ! 
 
128 Cloud Kifts. 
 
 He knows how the government ought to go, 
 
 And if he was at Washington, 
 
 He could give Uncle Sam a pointer or two, 
 
 And show him how it is done! 
 
 But the government never sends for him; 
 
 And I know vrhy, don't you? 
 
 Why, who would whittle his soft pine stick 
 
 If he had something to do? 
 
 Poor man ! The world is down on him, 
 And he never had a chanc£ ! 
 It never took the slouch from his hat. 
 Or the bag from the knees of his pants ! 
 The old world owes him a living, 
 And it's long time overdue; 
 But it's mighty .hard to collect it. 
 For a man with nothing to do ! 
 
 When the last pine stick is whittled, 
 And his work on earth is done; 
 When the shavings are all blo\vn away. 
 And his tongue has ceased to run ; 
 They'll put him into an empty box. 
 With the verdict of the coroner; 
 "Died from whittling a soft pine stick, 
 Down on the grocery corner." 
 
 And no one will ever miss him. 
 But the box where he used to sit. 
 And the world will wag just as it did 
 
Persistence. 129 
 
 W'hen he was running it ! 
 
 But if he should get to Heaven, 
 
 Where all was strange and new, 
 
 And he couldn't find a soft pine stick, 
 
 Oh, what would the poor man do? 
 
 1906. 
 
 PERSISTENCE. 
 
 Have your brightest dreams just melted to air, 
 And vour courage ebbed you know not where? 
 Is the world as 'blue as the vaulted sky, 
 And you hardly care if 3^ou live or die? 
 Does life seem a sham, the world a fake. 
 And a failure all you can ever make? 
 Come! swallow some sand, and nerve your grip! 
 Straighten your brows, and pick up your lip ! 
 Get up and hustle! get up and get! 
 Life holds something worth living yet! 
 
 Airing your troubles will not avail ; 
 
 Take the world by the horns, and not the tail ; 
 
 For scant the mercy that you will find, 
 
 If you try to ride, or hang behind. 
 
 For the world with its censure is very free; 
 
 But it deals out pity reluctantly. 
 
 Few will list to your woeful tone, 
 
 For each one is busy humming his own ! 
 
130 Cloud Rifts. 
 
 Just get up and hustle ! get up and get ! 
 Some way or other you '11 pull through 3'et ! 
 
 The world bestows the well earned crown, 
 But sneers at the man who coAvers do-\vn. 
 Fortune's gifts are grudgingly given; 
 She smiles on him who has nobly striven ! 
 And Fate grows pale, and turns aside, 
 When she meets a man who has bravely tried! 
 All that the world will give to you. 
 Is a plot of ground — six feet by two ! 
 Then get up and hustle ! get up and get ! 
 Fortune and Fate will yield to grit! 
 
 God made the world, and God made man; 
 And measured his three-score-one half span. 
 He gave him the earth to hold in trust, 
 And if he keeps it, toil he must. 
 Eden is barred to man below, 
 And the thorn and the thistle still will grow. 
 An undaunted will is a mine of wealth ; 
 And God helps him Avho helps himself! 
 So get up and hustle ! get up and get ! 
 The world is conquered by pluck and sweat ! 
 
 1903. 
 
Life's Tumbles. 131 
 
 LIFE'S TUMBLES. 
 
 Only a boy, on a winter mom. 
 
 When earth was white and the air was keen ; 
 Hurrying feet on the slipperj- walk, 
 
 "Where the frost had left a silver sheen. 
 Only a fall on the pitiless ice ! 
 
 A bruised head, and a throb1)ing pain! 
 A cheery laugh from a passerby. 
 
 With "Jump up, lad, and ti-y it again!" 
 
 'Tis only a fall of small moment. 
 
 For the injured head will heal again ; 
 Yet, viewed through the tear-dimmed eyes of youth, 
 
 'Tis grave as the falls of older men. 
 And, after all, we're but children, grown. 
 
 With grown up troubles, w^hich will seem a^bsurd 
 And petty as theirs, when viewed afar. 
 
 Through eyes eternity, matvii-ed ! 
 
 God strengthen your feet my little man! 
 
 There are harder falls for you to meet; 
 For the world is spreading the path of life 
 
 With slippery snares, to catch your feet! 
 Life's path is rough as the icy street; 
 
 World's pity cold as the winter morn! 
 The ointment pressed to your wounded head, 
 
 Will smart with the acid of bitter soom ! 
 
132 Cloud Rifts. 
 
 God give you courage my little man! 
 
 Far graver troubles lie on before ; 
 And other trials await you there, 
 
 Wliere the cares of childhood come no more. 
 There's many a slip for grown up feet; 
 
 And many a throb for manhood's brow! 
 God grant they only bruise your head, 
 
 And leave your heart unscathed, as now! 
 
 You whistle these pains from your childish head ; 
 
 Those will be harder to charm away. 
 You dream these cares from your artless mind; 
 
 But those will revive with each new day. 
 The warmth of a smile will dry these tears ; 
 
 But the brine of time will scald more deep! 
 You have your sorrows, and shed your tears, 
 
 But you have not learned what makes men weep ! 
 
 This tumble has only bruised your head; 
 
 Some wound the soul with a deeper hurt ! 
 You have only soiled your chubby hands ; 
 
 Some spot the conscience with fouler dirt ! 
 But faith and hope and a steadfast mind, 
 
 And a guiltless heart, my little man. 
 Will stay your feet on the slippery path. 
 
 And bear you over life's narrow span. 
 
 1904. 
 
Brotherhood. 133 
 
 BROTHERHOOD. 
 
 Life is not all sunshine, 
 'Twould not be best if so ; 
 Storms must sometimes sweep across the sky. 
 Faith, with eagle pinions, 
 
 Must pierce the clouds hung low, 
 Until the gloomy storm has drifted by. 
 
 Life must hold some conflicts, 
 Shun them as we may; 
 The soul must sometimes close in deadly strife. 
 He who flees the battle, 
 Meets it in the way; 
 Nor 'scapes the common heritage of life. 
 
 Each one has his trouble. 
 Each one has his care, 
 Each one bears a burden all his own ; 
 Each one has a sorrow. 
 Hidden deep somewhere, 
 Secrets which the world has never known. 
 
 Is your burden heavy? 
 You are not alone ; 
 Earth's teeming millions share the common fate. 
 Other brows are storm swept ! 
 Other white lips moan ! 
 And other shoulders stoop and hope and wait! 
 
134 Cloud Rifts. 
 
 Would you ease your burden? 
 Cushion it with love! 
 Stoop and lift your brother's heavy load. 
 Then the golden sunshine, 
 Smiling from above, 
 Will shower its wealth upon the stormy road. 
 
 1904. 
 
 JUDGE NOT. 
 
 Judge not! thy finite mind is weak! 
 Thou canst not balance Justice's scales. 
 Nor weigh the inanimate universe, 
 Much less, then, judge thy fellow man ! 
 How canst thou read the motives of 
 His heart, or separate his errors 
 And his blundering mistakes 
 From evil purposes and acts? 
 That which seems a withering curse. 
 May have left his lips a blessing. 
 Breathed upon the wings of prayer! 
 
 Or if thou knewest that his deeds 
 Were wrong, should 'st thou judge hastily 
 HoAv can'st thou tell the battles fought, 
 Or 'gainst what odds he met defeat; 
 Or sound temptation's fiery flood; 
 Or count the legions which encamped, 
 
Judge Not. 135 
 
 In dread array, against his soul? 
 Thou who hast never met the tempter 
 Face to face, and felt the floods about 
 Thy feet, if thou liadst wrestled with 
 The powers of night, as he has done — 
 Perchance, thou too hadst fallen! 
 
 Judge not ! thou art too liable to err ! 
 The mists of Time so blurr thy sight, 
 Thou seest dimly at the best. 
 And that which seems so clear to thee. 
 Viewed from thy point of vantage ground, 
 If seen within thy brother's sphere. 
 Might prove to be so different. 
 
 Judge not ! or if you judge at all 
 
 Then judge in love and charity. 
 
 Judge with the heart and not the head. 
 
 The impetuous heart is often 
 
 Truer than the calculating mind. 
 
 Thy heart still pleads against thy will; 
 
 Thy heart is right, thy judgment wrong. 
 
 Judge others as you judge yourself; 
 Or as you would that others should 
 The measure of your judgment give 
 Again. Judge as you woukl when time 
 Has sundered far, and continents 
 And rolling seas have come between. 
 Judge as vou would when o'er the breast 
 
136 Cloud Rifts. 
 
 The hands are lying still, and death 
 Has sealed the past, and Charity 
 Keeps silent vigil o'er the tomb. 
 
 Why will ye judge ? Life is so short ! 
 And soon, before the bar of God, 
 We all shall stand, to judgment called. 
 Forgive and love, 'tis better far! 
 Leave judgment to omniscient God. 
 
 1904. 
 
 MY BROTHER'S KEEPER. 
 
 "Am I my brother's keeper? 
 
 Wherefore dost thou ask of me? 
 
 Who gave me a charge to keep him? 
 
 I Imow not where he may be ! 
 
 And if God, who fashioned man 
 
 Prom the senseless, plastic clay, 
 
 Cannot keep him 'neath His eye, 
 
 Can I watch him night and day? 
 
 Lo, the vineyards I have planted, 
 
 And the green fields beckon me ; 
 
 Wherefore should I care for Abel? 
 
 I know not where he may be!" 
 
 But his lips were false, and his heart was dead, 
 
 And his conscience drowned in the 'blood he shed! 
 
 While his altar smoke, 'neath Heaven's frown, 
 
My Brother's Keeper. 137 
 
 Silently, sullenly cowered down ; 
 
 And Earth blushed red, before her God, 
 
 Wliere a brother 's blood had stained the sod ! 
 
 He who failed to keep his brother, 
 
 Stained his hands with 'brother's l)lood. 
 
 He who could not love God's image, 
 
 Bore the crimson curse of God. 
 
 And have all the Cains been banished? 
 
 Have the Abels all been slain? 
 
 Are not we our brother's keeper? 
 
 Have we played the part of Cain? 
 
 While there's one soul needs a l)rother, 
 
 We are brothers to that one 
 
 Not till earth's last wrong is righted. 
 
 Is our great commission done. 
 
 And when God inquires for Abel, 
 
 Where his pathway crossed our own, 
 
 Will he find us, like Cain, guilty? 
 
 Will he find us there alone? 
 
 For his lips were false, and his heart was dead. 
 
 And his conscience drowTied in the blood he had 
 
 shed; 
 While his altar smoke, 'neath Heaven's frown. 
 Silently, sullenly cowered down, 
 And earth blushed red, before her God, 
 Where a brother's blood had stained the sod! 
 
 1906. 
 
138 Oloud Rifts. 
 
 ONLY A DRUNKARD. 
 
 He was only a eomnion drunkard I 
 
 Decrepit and old and poor! 
 As he reeled from the lighted bar room, 
 
 And out at the open door. 
 He was only one of the many 
 
 Who fight for life's fleeting breath. 
 With one hand grasping a wretched life, 
 
 And the other clutching death ! 
 
 Men nodded and smiled, or stopped to gaze, 
 
 With curious scornful eye; 
 Women shrank back and gathered their skirts, 
 
 As the drunkard staggered by. 
 But of all the throng, that round him pressed, 
 
 Not a hand reached out to save ! 
 Not a word of love or sympathy, 
 
 To smooth life's troubled wave! 
 
 It's only a drunkard! someone said, 
 
 As they picked him up from the street, 
 Where his crushed and mangled body lay 
 
 Underneath the horses' feet. 
 "Move on!" cried the stern policeman, 
 
 And the crowd surged on its way ; 
 And no one sighed, or seemed to care 
 
 That a drunkard died that day. 
 
Only a Drunkard. 139 
 
 A reporter took the accident. 
 
 And hurried it into the press, 
 Then went his way; for what did he care 
 
 If there was one drunkard less? 
 The morning paper, next day announced, 
 
 That "Yesterday evening late. 
 While trying to cross a crowded street, 
 
 Another drunkard met his fate." 
 
 ''Twas a short account the paper gave; 
 
 But perhaps they did not know. 
 Or hadn't the time to tell us all 
 
 Of that awful tale of woe — 
 How a noble man. in youthful prime, 
 
 Once generous, true and "brave, 
 Went down the terrible scale of sin 
 
 To a drunken pauper's grave! 
 
 They might have told of a sister's tears, 
 
 And a mother's broken heart; 
 Or described the brilliant gay saloon. 
 
 Wliere he made the downward start. 
 They might have denounced the human wretch 
 
 Who kept the trap Avhere he fell ; 
 Or they mig^ht have mentioned the voter, 
 
 Who gave him license to sell. 
 
 They never told of a wasted life. 
 
 Temptation, defeat and shame. 
 They mentioned the death of a drunkard, 
 
140 Cloud Rifts. 
 
 But didn't say who was to blame 
 When he fell beneath the horses' feet. 
 
 With his life crushed out in a breath. 
 And his body went to a drunkard's grave, 
 
 And his soul to eternal death ! 
 
 AVhy didn't they tell us all these things? 
 
 Was the subject not sublime? 
 It may be their space was limited, 
 
 Or they couldn't spare the time. 
 Or it may be it Avasn't worth the while, 
 
 And perhaps it matters not ; 
 For men wouldn't care to read the life 
 
 Of a poor old drunken sot! 
 
 When he stands before the bar of God 
 
 Will he bear his guilt alone? 
 Will not the blood of his guilty soul 
 
 On some other skirts be shown? 
 AVill not God say, as in days of old, 
 
 When Abel could not be found, 
 "Thy brother's blood crieth up to me 
 
 For vengeance from out the ground?" 
 
 When the man who sold the cursed drink. 
 And the man avIio gave him right. 
 
 And the man who voted to have it so. 
 All stand in the judgment light; 
 
 And Christ pronounces the solemn words 
 Which forever seal their doom 
 
The Rum Kiug. 141 
 
 They'll go ^\'ith the poor old drunken sot, 
 Out into eternal gloom! 
 
 1901. 
 
 THE RUM KING. 
 
 Though a nation's record bears the stain 
 Of the liquor tralifie 's licensed gain ; 
 Though the laws of the land are stamped with shame, 
 And the lawmakers bow to the magic name ; 
 Though mercy lifts her hands in vain 
 And Justice is bound in the monster's chain; 
 Though Truth is crushed, and bleeding lies. 
 While Fraud and Deceit above her rise 
 Though virtue and right be trampled down, 
 And the seeds of shame and evil sown ; 
 Though Christ shall over the nation weep, 
 And God's curse be the harvest that we reap — 
 The Rum King rules, let the work go on ! 
 
 Though upon the home the shadows fall, 
 Till it totters and crumbles 'neath the pall, 
 Until all is dismal and dark within. 
 And hope gives place to "It might have been"; 
 Though a mother mingles her prayers and tears, 
 As she weeps for her boy of other years. 
 Though the frail wife falls beneath the t)low 
 Of one who loved her long ago ; 
 Though the little children cry for bread, 
 
142 Cloud Rifts. 
 
 And shiver away to their ragged bed ; 
 Though the home is filled with sighs and moans, 
 And innocence reaps what guilt has sown — 
 The Rum King rules, let the work go on! 
 
 Though millions go down 'neath death's cold wave, 
 
 Hurried away to a drunkard 's grave ; 
 
 Though millions of souls go over the brink 
 
 And into endless perdition sink ; 
 
 Though hearts be steeped in crime and sin, 
 
 And Hell in the human breast begin; 
 
 Though life is blasted, and manhood lost, 
 
 A helpless wreck by the tempest tossed ; 
 
 Though souls, dark-stained with their brother's 
 
 blood, 
 Are swallowed up in the fiery flood; 
 Though earth be burdened with their sin^ 
 And Hell be moved at their coming in — 
 The Rum King rules, let the work go on ! 
 
 Oh, when shall Manhood in might arise. 
 And avenge the innocent's pleading cries. 
 Till children are safe from want and cold, 
 And man loves his brother more than gold! 
 Oh, when shall the Rum King cease to reign 
 On his gilded throne of bloody gain ! 
 Oh, when shall justice and mercy be 
 A refuge, w^here man may safely flee ! 
 G'od hasten the days, with flying feet, 
 When Peace and Righteousness lovingly meet; 
 
Heroism. 143 
 
 When the liquid fire shall be no more, 
 And man shall quaff of nature's store — 
 
 When Jesus reigns, and the work must cease! 
 
 1901. 
 
 HEROISM. 
 
 War! an(J war's alarm! 
 A battle ! clouds of smoke 
 The sun could scarce look through ! 
 Sulphur fumes that smart and choke ; 
 And armour ringing blow on blow ! 
 The tramp of steeds, the clash of arms. 
 The harsh caress of steel on steel ! 
 Mingled curses, shouts and groans ! 
 Cries that no one heard ; 
 And tattered flags gone down. 
 ]\[angled forms — the d.ying — ^dead! 
 And living lines, that sway and reel 
 AcroS'S the writhing and the still ! 
 And over all, blood ! blood ! 
 
 A rush ! A breach ! A cry ! 
 
 A sudden rout ! A cowardly flight ! 
 
 One man alone, while others fly, 
 
 Holding a host at bay, 
 
 'Till help should come ! 
 
 He made a bulwark of their dead. 
 
 He piled in heaps their slain ! 
 
144 Cloud Rifts. 
 
 They beat his helmet from his head, 
 
 And he bled at every vein! 
 
 He saw friends rally round him, 
 
 And fill the breach again; 
 
 He caught the gleam of vengeful steel, 
 
 The flag swept past, and then — 
 
 He saw the rout, he heard the shout, 
 
 And knew he had saved the day; 
 
 And he laid his head on the mangled dead- 
 
 And breathed his life away! 
 
 Drums beating slowly, 
 
 Fifes piping lowly, 
 
 And the tread of martial feet. 
 
 Flags and flowers, 
 
 And solemn hours. 
 
 For a hero's burial meet. 
 
 A nation's homage, 
 
 A deathless name, 
 
 A marble shaft above his head; 
 
 A page or two 
 
 In the scroll of fame. 
 
 Telling the deeds of a hero dead. 
 
 War ! A time-old war 1 
 
 A world for a batle-field, 
 
 And a race engaged! 
 
 Right and wrong; God and a fiend; 
 
 Heaven — Hell; two gates, two ways. 
 
 A cross upon a hill; 
 
Heroism. 145 
 
 An empty tomb. 
 
 A man — a brute; and, calm and still, 
 
 The gentle purr of unseen wings, 
 
 And strange mist-hidden things ! 
 
 Noiseless battles — a deadly strife 
 
 That only God and angels see ! 
 
 Death grappling life ! 
 
 Defeat and victory! 
 
 The wounded — dying — dead ! 
 
 Despair and hope, now seen, now lost, 
 
 Like banners, rising here and there, 
 
 Upon the waves of battle tossed. 
 
 Scattered arms; and mangled shapes 
 
 Of what had once been fair, 
 
 Now crus'hed in dust ! 
 
 And over all a clinging mist, 
 
 That came and went, 
 
 And rose and fell, and writhed and curled, 
 
 And crept between. 
 
 And hid each from the other's eyes. 
 
 A stern assault — wrong crushing right! 
 
 Defeat ; a hopeless few 
 
 That fled dispirited ! 
 
 One man alone, still grandly true, 
 
 Fighting for God and Truth ! 
 
 A testing time — a deadly strife 
 
 When strong men's hearts grew sick with dread; 
 
 And souls closed in for death or life. 
 
 Oh God! for space to breathe 
 
146 aoud Rifts. 
 
 Amid the battle's stifling heat! 
 
 He stood against the throne of God ; 
 
 And faced the tide of wrong; 
 
 He felt Truth nerve his weary hand, 
 
 He heard the angels' song! 
 
 Till cowardly hearts forgot their fear, 
 
 And the weak were strong again, 
 
 And rallied 'round the throne of God ; 
 
 He saw Truth win ; and then — 
 
 Up through the clouds of battle-smoke, 
 
 His mighty soul triumphant broke, 
 
 And Heaven's portals shut him in! 
 
 A hum'ble life, 
 
 Unknown to Fame ; 
 
 A humble death, 
 
 A forgotten name. 
 
 A grassy mound 
 
 In a common lot, 
 
 "Where men are buried — 
 
 And then forgot. 
 
 But every angel 
 
 Knows the place, 
 
 When the marble shaft 
 
 Has left no trace; 
 
 For such is the fame 
 
 That earth has given. 
 
 And such is greatness 
 
 As seen in Heaven. 1906. 
 
The True Poet. 147 
 
 THE TRUE POET. 
 
 He who has trod, with reverent feet, 
 
 Through Nature's sounding aisles, 
 And heard her mighty music roll 
 
 Among her sculptured piles ; 
 He who has knelt before her shrine, 
 
 And felt a jnystic calm 
 Fall like a hush upon his soul, 
 
 A mild and healing balm; 
 Who has loved virtue, for virtue's sake, 
 
 And sought truth everywhere; 
 Laid his heart on her martyr shrine, 
 
 And hated all that hated her ; 
 He who has worshipped womanhood, 
 
 And shrined within his breast 
 A faith that holds it next to God, 
 
 Earth's truest, purest, best; 
 He who has loved his fellow-man. 
 
 And felt his grief and woe. 
 And let the blinding tears with his. 
 
 In common sorrow flow ; 
 He who has dreamed, and seen the earth 
 
 Restored to Paradise. 
 Then waked, to see its sin and wrong 
 
 Like vengeful specters rise ; 
 And seen the clammy wings of death 
 
 Hang shadoA^nng the earth, 
 And out beyond, the dense, dark cloud 
 
148 Cloud Sifts. 
 
 That doubt has given birth; 
 Then seen a vision, in the night, 
 
 Break in upon his soul, 
 A vision from the great Beyond, 
 
 Where God's deep counsels roll, 
 And felt God's hand upon the world. 
 
 And seen the ages roll, 
 Till, guided through the wrecks of time, 
 
 It reached its destined goal; 
 And timed his heart to beat with God's, 
 
 And felt himself grow strong, 
 And stringed his harp, in confidence. 
 
 To sing Hope's cheering song; 
 He who has walked the lonely way 
 
 That all great souls have trod, 
 And in his desert loneliness. 
 
 Come face to face with God; 
 He Who has wrestled, Jacob-like, 
 
 Through a long and starless night, 
 The evil nature in his breast 
 
 With manhood's angel bright, 
 And seen the dawm break in the east, 
 
 With life's new day aflame, 
 A halting, wounded conqueror, 
 
 With an angel-christened name — 
 He is the Poet; to his soul 
 
 The mystic key is given. 
 Which solves the mystery of life, 
 And swings the doors of Heaven, 
 
 1907. 
 
Tragedy. . 149 
 
 TRAGEDY. 
 
 He loved Ambition, but served Necessity ; 
 
 And saw his cherished hopes die, one by one, 
 
 And buried them, and in silence went his way, 
 
 And bent his shoulders to the drudging task. 
 
 And with his hard lot tried to be content. 
 
 He knew he was not like the common throng, 
 
 But looked above their heads, and his great soul 
 
 Saw and lived in a higher world than theirs, 
 
 And ever loved and tried to lift them up 
 
 To live in his soul world, and share his life. 
 
 He lived a humble life, and serving, died, 
 
 Who might have shouldered Avith the best of earth, 
 
 Had he been free — and Heaven called him great. 
 
 Another lived, untrammeled, by his side. 
 Nor felt the claims of stern necessity'. 
 Am'bition wooed, but wooed in vain. 
 He felt the elements of greatness stir 
 Within his soul, and knew he might be great ; 
 But he loved the ease and pleasures of his lot 
 More thaai the rugged path ambition s'howed. 
 He lived a life of selfishness, and died, 
 Who might have shouldered with the best of earth. 
 Had he but chosen — and Heaven Avept for him. 
 
 1906. 
 
150 Cloud Rifts. 
 
 PLATITUDES. 
 
 A common bush in the desert, 
 In a wild and trackless sweep, 
 Where only the winds passed by, 
 
 Or the shepherd with his sheep. 
 Bvit oil, one day in the desert 
 It flamed with the fire of God! 
 
 And a shepherd put off his shoes 
 From the consecrated sod. 
 
 A pile of stones for a pillow, 
 A bed on the cold, rough ground ; 
 A staff, a scrip and a wanderer, 
 When at Luz the sun went down. 
 A ladder flung from Heaven, 
 The voice of God in the night; 
 The noiseless tread of angel feet, 
 And a Bethel at morning light. 
 
 A life like the lonely desert; 
 
 But lit by a burning bush. 
 
 A pillow of stony sorrow; 
 
 But close to the Bethel hush. 
 
 A heart that missed the best of earth, 
 
 And a life but half complete ; 
 
 But a ladder dropped from Heaven, 
 
 Burdened with angel feet. 
 
 1906. 
 
The Shattered Idol. 151 
 
 THE SHATTERED IDOL. 
 
 I built a little shrine within my heart, 
 Fashioned with many a curious art, 
 And set an idol up, and draped it fair 
 With bright-winged dreams and fancies rare. 
 And where it seemed to be less fair and fit 
 With brightest gems of faith I studded it. 
 And on the golden altar, at its feet. 
 Burned ever-smoking incense rich and sweet. 
 It seemed of higher mold than earth's poor sod; 
 And in my prayers I placed it next to God. 
 
 And so I fared until, in wrath, one day 
 An awful tempest swept across my way. 
 And dashed its shivering breath into my face, 
 And wrapped my heart within its wild embrace, 
 And burst the door, and flung my idol down, 
 And dashed the shattered fragments all around — 
 And lo ! 'Twas but an empty hollow thing ! 
 The molded l)eauty, where my heart did cling, 
 And all the sculptured form of outward grace. 
 Reversed ^nthin, in ugliness was traced! 
 
 Then scorn crept, serpent-like, into my heart. 
 And left his rankling poison there to smart ; 
 Bestowed the bitter fruit which made me wise. 
 But blighted all my lovely Paradise. 
 
152 Cloud Rifts. 
 
 With trembling hands, as best I might, 
 
 I flung the fragments out into the night. 
 
 And while the leaden hours so slowly crept, 
 
 I sat before the empty shrine and wept ; 
 
 And mourned the idol which I thought had been, 
 
 More than the shattered one that I had seen. 
 
 Then One stepped calmly through the open door 
 Into the shrine; then hushed the tempest's roar. 
 The warring elements grew calm, outside, 
 And peace crept in, and I was satisfied. 
 Yet sometimes, in some corner dim, I find 
 Some broken fragment Time has left behind, 
 And Fancy builds again the idol, whole. 
 And half forgotten thrills run through my soul, 
 As I think what life might have brought to me. 
 Had my idol been what it seemed to be. 
 
 1905. 
 
 THE FLIGHT OF TIME. 
 
 Oh, how the moments steal away. 
 Marking the si'lent course of day! 
 The kindling daAvn, the sultry noon. 
 The shades of evening come so soon. 
 Scarce has the day succumbed to night. 
 When morning puts the dark to flight; 
 Scarce is the day enthroned on high. 
 When, spoiled *of power, it sinks to die. 
 
The Flight of Time. 153 
 
 Oh, how the seasons come and go, 
 Like restless tides that ebb and iloAv ! 
 The springtime flower, the summer sheaf. 
 The autumn sere, and falling leaf; 
 Then winter's spotless shroud of snow, 
 With summer's beauty dead, below% 
 And Nature mourning o'er the bier, 
 Chanting requiems for the year. 
 
 Oh Time, that bears us all away, 
 With chariot wheels that never stay! 
 The spring of youth, and manhood 's glow, 
 How soon they come, how soon they go ! 
 Summer's hues are changed to brown. 
 And autumn's leaves come sifting down. 
 And age, like snow on the withered bloom. 
 Is shrouding the form for the silent tomb. 
 
 How brief the course of life 's stern race ! 
 How soon man finds his resting place ! 
 Yet who would pity the hoary hair. 
 Or who would Aveep above the bier. 
 Of one whose life has been well spent, 
 Who goes to meet his God content? 
 Who would mourn for the victor crowned, 
 Where streams of immortal youth abound? 
 
 1904. 
 
154 Cloud Rifts. 
 
 THE OLD YEAR. 
 
 Tread softly through the gathering gloom, 
 For the aged year, in his snowy bloom, 
 
 Is slowly dying! 
 The seasons have come and gone again, 
 Laden with joy, or fraught with pain, 
 
 While swiftly flying; 
 And restless Time, with busy hand 
 Is sifting the fateful stream of sand 
 
 Where buried years are lying. 
 
 Another year, with its hopes and fears, 
 Its joy and pain, its smiles and tears, 
 
 Has gone from me. 
 Silent and swift, with resistless flow. 
 The moments come and the moments go 
 
 On life's rough sea! 
 Though I scareel}^ heard their light footfall, 
 They have hurried away, beyond recall, . 
 
 Into Eternity. 
 
 Another year, with its ebbing tide, 
 Has joined the host on the other side. 
 
 In the mystic past; 
 Wliere they wait their comrades, yet to come, 
 Who bear me on to my final home, 
 
 And will not rest, 
 
Life's School. 155 
 
 Until before the great white throne 
 They stand and make their secrets known, 
 Wlien Time has passed. 
 
 1903. 
 
 LIFE'S SCHOOL. 
 
 We learn life's lessons slowly, 
 
 And the school hours seem so long; 
 And the task so wearily conned, 
 
 Is often recited wrong. 
 So we "Take the lesson over," 
 
 And bend with aching head. 
 While the hot tears soil the primer. 
 
 Where life's strange letters are read. 
 
 But the Master is kind and patient, 
 And teaches them o'er and o'er; 
 
 And whispers words of comfort. 
 
 When failures grieve us sore. 
 But when at last we conquer 
 
 The lesson long and hard, 
 The Master smiles ui>on us. 
 
 Oh, sweetest and best reward ! 
 
 When the lessons all are perfect. 
 
 And recited one by one; 
 When life's school day is ended. 
 
 And the weary tasks are done; 
 
156 Cloud Rifts. 
 
 "We'll close our tear-stained primer, 
 And the Master Himself will come 
 
 And with a smile dismiss us, 
 And tenderly lead us home. 
 
 1907. 
 
 WHEN MOTHER TUCKED US INTO BED. 
 
 When the light had died from setting sun, 
 And the tired feet had ceased to run ; 
 When the playthings all were laid away. 
 And the "Sandman" came at close of day. 
 What sweet content when Mother's hand, 
 Like the dreamy touch of a fairy wand, 
 Smoothed hack the hair from each nodding head, 
 And gently tucked us into bed. 
 
 Chorus — 
 When the lamp with mellow luster burned. 
 And the droAvsy thoughts to dreamlland turned, 
 When eyes were heavy, and prayers were said, 
 And Mother tucked us into bed. 
 
 How it charmed the childish grief away, 
 
 And smoothed the cares of the long, long day ! 
 
 How it soothed each ihurt, and dried each tear, 
 
 When bedtime's quiet hour drew near! 
 
 Beneath the cover snugly curled, 
 
 And all at peace with the big round world, 
 
When Mother Tucked Us Into Bed. 157 
 
 Content crept in, and trouble fled, 
 When Mother tucked us into bed. 
 
 Chorus — 
 
 When the drowsy senses strove to keep 
 Th« lids apart, for one more peep; 
 When the things of earth were taking flight, 
 And the land of Nod almost in sight, 
 And half awake, and half in a dream, 
 We watche'd the lamp-light's fading gleam, 
 A halo gathered round her head, 
 When Mother tucked us into bed. 
 
 Chorus — 
 
 Years have passed, in their hurried flight. 
 
 Since Mother tucked us in at night; 
 
 And brows grown creased with many a care. 
 
 Since Mother heard the evening prayer. 
 
 But I 'd give the world if once again, 
 
 I could see her face above me bend, 
 
 As she smoothed the hair from my weary head, 
 
 And kissed me, and tucked me into bed. 
 
 Chorus — 
 
 1905. 
 
158 Cloud Eifts. 
 
 WE MISS YOU AT THE OLD HOMESTEAD. 
 
 We miss you so at the old homestead, 
 
 And the place is lonely still ; 
 
 And it seems so long since you went away 
 
 To the world beyond the hill. 
 
 We think of you through the long, long day. 
 
 And at night we dream of you; 
 
 And you come again, through the old front gate, 
 
 Just tlie same as you used to do. 
 
 We miss you so at the old homestead. 
 
 And when Avill you come again? 
 
 For the latchstring always hangs outside, 
 
 In sunshine and in rain. 
 
 There's a chair drawn up on the 'hearth for you. 
 
 And a neat little attic bed; 
 
 And when will you come again, again? 
 
 For we miss you at the old homestead. 
 
 But we miss you most when the day is done, 
 
 In the evening calm and still, 
 
 When the good night song of the robin blends 
 
 With the cry of the whippoorwill ; 
 
 And we catch tdie scent of the new mown hay, 
 
 As we sit in the gathering gloom. 
 
 And list for your merry-whistled notes. 
 
 As the cows come straggling home. 
 
 1905. 
 
Growing Old. 159 
 
 GROWING OLD. 
 
 Silver threads among the gold! 
 Can it be we're growing old? 
 Why it seems but yesterday 
 We were children at onr play! 
 Then your hair was golden brown, 
 On your shoulders hanging down, 
 Now there's silver with the gold; 
 Yes, we're surely growing old! 
 
 Chorus — 
 
 Time drives the years and they dare not stay, 
 And thieving Age is very bold ; 
 For he muffles his feet in sober gray. 
 And steals away the threads of gold ! 
 
 How the years have sped away. 
 Since that well remembered day. 
 When I whispered in your ear 
 Words which only love could hear! 
 Love-lit eyes, and blushing cheek, 
 Told the words you could not speak ; 
 Sunbeams tipped your hair with gold ; 
 Yes, we're growing — growing old! 
 
 Chorus — 
 
160 Cloud Rifts. 
 
 Swift have been the passing years, 
 Bringing smiles, and bringing tears; 
 But bonds of love are just as strong 
 As they were when we were young. 
 We have journeyed, hand in hand, 
 Over life's uneven strand: 
 Silver threads have streaked the gold, 
 Yet, 'tis well we're growing old! 
 
 Chorus — 
 
 Cloudless skies, at evening time. 
 Filled with heavenly light sublime. 
 Bend above life's shortening way, 
 Where it blends with youth's new day. 
 Wliere the ages know no pain. 
 Youth w411 come to us again; 
 Silver threads will change to gold, 
 And Ave '11 never more grow old ! 
 
 Chorus — 
 
 Time drives the years and they dare not stay, 
 And thieving Age is very bold ; 
 But they'll all come back, in youth's new day, 
 And bring us again the stolen gold ! 
 
Silent All. 161 
 
 SILENT ALL. 
 
 I had a dream, when night was old. 
 And moonbeams slanted pale and cold, 
 And all was still as death. 
 The Annd through naked branches wept, 
 And gthostly clouds, in silence, crept 
 Before the evening's breath. 
 
 Chorus — 
 
 Silent all, silent all, 
 Yes, silence over all! 
 Silent all, silent all, 
 Yes, silence over all ! 
 
 I dreamed the judgment day had come. 
 And called the dead from out their home, 
 In resurrection birth ; 
 
 Thrones were set, and the books were read, 
 Which judged the living and the dead, 
 From all the climes of earth. 
 
 Chorus — 
 
 The drunkards came, a mighty tilirong, 
 In endless ranks they marched along; 
 Their hopeless tread I heard. 
 They looked but once, nor looked again, 
 
162 Cloud Rifts. 
 
 They saw how rum had forged their chain, 
 And answered not a word. 
 
 Chorus — 
 
 And mothers came, with silvered hair, 
 Whose drunken sons were gathered tiiere, 
 And told of grief and pain : 
 And sisters came, and weeping wives. 
 And told how rum had cursed their lives, 
 And no one spoke again. 
 
 Chorus — 
 
 And children came, with features wan, 
 Where childhood bore the stamp of man, 
 And joy had never stirred; 
 For rum had left its cruel trace, 
 And wrote its story in each face ; 
 They needed not a word. 
 
 Chorus — 
 
 The voters, Avho had licensed rum. 
 Stood there and saw its victims come; 
 Too late was conscience stirred. 
 They saw the ruin rum had wrought, 
 They saw the woe their votes had brought, 
 And answered not a word. 
 
 Chorus- - 
 
 1906. 
 
Christ's Sacrifice. 163 
 
 CHRIST'S SACRIFICE. 
 
 He sat on a throne of glory, 
 
 In the midst of the Heavenly land, 
 And a millions worlds, in their orbits, 
 
 Swung around at the touch of His hand. 
 The heavenly 'host adored Him, 
 
 And He basked in a Father's love. 
 And creation's praise, ascending, 
 
 Met the anthems from above. 
 
 Chorus — 
 Does the way seem rough, my brother? 
 
 Does the cross seem a heavy M^eight? 
 Oh, think what he bore, my brother, 
 
 To lead you to Heaven 's gate ! 
 
 Oh what did he lack in Heaven? 
 
 Or was Heaven false to its trust? 
 Why should He leave the streets of gold 
 
 To tread the weary paths of dust? 
 "Why should He abdicate His throne, 
 
 With bliss of Deity replete. 
 Where waves of glory upward rolled 
 
 And broke in fire about His feet? 
 
 Chorus — 
 
164 Cloud Rifts. 
 
 Whj' siliould He .share the curse of man ? 
 
 Why should He taste the bitter death ? 
 Why should He leave immortal climes 
 
 To breathe Earth's poisoned, fleeting breath' 
 Why should He stoop from Godhead's height 
 
 To the depths of fallen man's estate, 
 And clothe Divinity in flesh, 
 
 To open Heaven's closed gate? 
 
 Chorus — 
 
 Oh, He could not reign, contented, 
 
 O'er the myriad angel host, 
 Nor be satisfied with Heaven ; 
 
 While a ruined world was lost! 
 His infinite heart was so hungry 
 
 To taste of the sinner's love. 
 He came to the earth to win him 
 
 For His heavenlv home above. 
 
 Chorus — 
 
 1905. 
 
 THE CALL OF DEATH. 
 
 Time speeds on and the days go by, 
 
 And this life will isoon be o'er; 
 And the paths, where our footsteps fall today, 
 
 We will tread again no more. 
 As the grass springs up, in the dewy morn, 
 
The Call of Death. 165 
 
 And withers at close of day, 
 As the shadows move, or a tale is told, 
 So this short life slips away. 
 
 Chorus — 
 Oh, the time will come, in the future days, 
 
 And it may be very near, 
 Wheal death will call you from earth away, 
 
 At the judgment to appear. 
 
 It may be in youth, when the path of life 
 
 With the vision of hope is fair; 
 It may be when Time, with relentless hand, 
 
 Has wrinkled the brow Avith care; 
 It may 'be when Age has stooped the frame. 
 
 And drifted the hair with snow, 
 That the Angel of Death will wing his Avay, 
 
 And bring you the call to go. 
 
 Chorus — 
 
 It may be when days of lingering pain 
 
 Has told the coming doom, 
 And Death has seized the wasted form, 
 
 And claimed it for the tomb ; 
 It may be when health, on cheek and brow, 
 
 Is shading a radiant bloom, 
 And in such an hour as thou thinkest not, 
 
 The summons of death will come. 
 
 Chorus — 
 
166 Cloud Rifts. 
 
 It may be at dawn, when the rosy skies 
 
 Rejoice at the morning's birth; 
 It may be at noon, when the glowing sun 
 
 Looks down on the fainting earth ; 
 It may be at eve when the light of day 
 
 Still lingers in the west. 
 Or the mantle of night has wrapped the earth 
 
 In the silent midnight rest. 
 
 Chorus — 
 
 1901. 
 
 PAROUSIA. 
 
 The sound of a trump, at earlj- morn, 
 
 Or in midnight's deep repose; 
 A blinding flash of heavenly light. 
 
 And a voice that no one knows. 
 The Bridegroom's eager, passionate call, 
 
 And a rapture through the air ; 
 The glance of His eye, the touch of His hand, 
 
 And a welcome forever there. 
 
 Chorus — 
 We will meet Him, we will meet Him, 
 
 When He comes, we will meet Him in the air. 
 We will meet Him, we will meet Him, 
 
 And we'll be wnth Him forever there. 
 
The Eternal One. 167 
 
 Return, Lord Christ, return again, 
 
 For we watch and wait for Thee ! 
 The bride is dressed in her spousal robes; 
 
 Oh, when will Thy coming be? 
 The world lies dark in the night of sin, 
 
 Asleep in iniquity; 
 But the bride still looks through the lattice bars, 
 
 And trims her lamp for Thee. 
 
 Chorus — 
 
 Return, Lord Christ, return again, 
 
 In Thy resurrected power. 
 Bright with the dawn of millennial day. 
 
 For the sad earth waits the hour ; 
 Creation groans, with the weight of sin, 
 
 And her cry goes up to Thee ; 
 Earth is ripe for the vintner's hand. 
 
 Oh, when will Thy coming be? 
 
 Chorus- 
 
 1907. 
 
 THE ETERNAL ONE. 
 
 From everlasting to everlasting 
 
 Thou art God ! Go back, through ages of the past, 
 
 To where the new-created universe 
 
 First felt the quickening rays of light 
 
168 Cloud Rifts. 
 
 Pierce downward through the dark, enshrouding 
 
 gloom, 
 And Thou art there to speak the word. 
 
 Pass 'backward. 
 Through the unknown vistas of Eternity, 
 To where angelic beings first began 
 Their never-ending songs of love and praise, 
 And Thou art there to greet them. 
 
 Backward still, 
 To where the compass marked the circle of 
 The dwelling place of God, and set His throne, 
 And Thou art there to guide its course. 
 
 On 'backward, 
 Until the finite mind, confused with thought, 
 And wearied in its flight, exhausted, sinks 
 Into the ocean of Infinity, 
 And Thou art there, as all in all. 
 
 Or turn. 
 And lift the vail which hides the future years, 
 And tread the avenue of ages yet to come ; 
 Till unborn generations come and go. 
 And ruthless Time has buried Adam's race, 
 And Thou art there in endless life. 
 
 And onward. 
 Until at length, the hoary earth, grown old 
 Beneath the curse of sin, totters to its grave; 
 And, wrapped in purging flames, arises from the 
 Funeral pyre in everlasting youth. 
 And Thou art there to christen it. 
 
 Onward still. 
 
Thoughts on Eternity. 169 
 
 To where the Ages cease their march and Time, 
 Death-stricken, gathers np his shrond of years 
 And sinks, self-huried, in Eternity, 
 And Thou art there to mark his grave. 
 
 Launch forth 
 Into Eternity, whose boundaries. 
 Unmarked, encircle all immensity, 
 And drift forever on its boundless tide, 
 And Thou art there, unchangeable. 
 
 1903. 
 
 THOUGHTS ON ETERNITY. 
 
 Eternity ! Oh Avord profound ! 
 
 What mind can grasp thy meaning deep? 
 Though just beyond Time's narrow realm 
 
 Thy countless cycles grandly sweep. 
 Though thin the vail that intervenes. 
 
 And hides thee from our wondering eyes. 
 That vail our hands can never lift, 
 
 Nor mortals view thy mysteries. 
 
 Beginning thou hast never had. 
 And ended thou shalt never be; 
 
 No past or future thou dost own, 
 For all is present time with thee. 
 
 No clock doth there the record keep, 
 No sun divide the day and night. 
 
170 Cloud Rifts. 
 
 Stern-visaged Time, with glass and scyt'he, 
 Can never reach there in his flight. 
 
 Oh Time ! that blights and blasts and kills, 
 
 And causes to return to earth ; 
 That raiseth up, and teareth down. 
 
 And to destruction giveth birth, 
 Thy power is great; and yet. oh Time, 
 
 Thy life is short, for thou shalt be 
 Lost in a greater power than thine, 
 
 Swallowed up in Eternity! 
 
 A few short years are given to thee. 
 
 In which o 'er all the earth to reign ; 
 But soon thy broAV will wear no crown, 
 
 Thy scepter be recalled again, 
 Tliy moorings be forever loosed. 
 
 Like a rudderless ship afloat at sea, 
 Drifting forever out of sight, 
 
 On the boundless waves of Eternity. 
 
 Oh soul ! why dost thou ever rise 
 
 And soar on wings of thought sublime, 
 And seek to grasp the mysteries 
 
 "Which lie beyond the reach of Time? 
 Why dost thou stir within the breast. 
 
 And through earth's weary toil and strife, 
 Beat at thy prison walls of clay. 
 
 If this is all thy span of life? 
 
 No, thou art not a thing of Time ; 
 But thou alone in all the earth 
 
What is the World. 171 
 
 Canst bid defiance to his power, 
 
 And say Time never gave me birth. 
 Thou'rt but a pilgrim here below; 
 
 This earth is not a home to thee, 
 For thou art of another world — 
 
 A fragment of Eternity. 
 
 And though upon this mortal clay 
 
 Time ever casts his withering blight, 
 Till, crushed and tottering 'neath the load, 
 
 It sinks beneath his power and might; 
 Unscarred by thy short journey here, 
 
 Untouched by time, or Death's cold sea, 
 Freed from this earthly house, thou 'It rise. 
 
 To live through all Eternity. 
 
 And will it be to realms of light. 
 
 That thou wilt take thine upward way? 
 Or will it be to endless night, 
 
 To be forever cast away? 
 For oh. Eternity, is vast ! 
 
 Its unmiarked boundaries who can know? 
 It holds so much of happiness. 
 
 And yet it holds so much of woe ! 
 
 1900. 
 
 WHAT IS THE WORLD? 
 
 What is the world, and worldly things, 
 Poised aloft on Time's swift wings? 
 What does this fleeting world contain? 
 
172 Cloud Rifts. 
 
 Wliat does it offer of loss or gain ? 
 Houses and lands and coffers of gold. 
 Wealth and honor and pleasures untold, 
 Greed and avarice, all its own, 
 Gilded steps to ambition's throne, 
 Honor and praise and flattery's smile. 
 Lust and pride and malice and guile, 
 Names and titles of high degree. 
 The uppermost seat and the bended knee- 
 This is the world. 
 
 What is the world, with face so fair? 
 Gild and glitter, dazzle and glare ; 
 The giddy dance, the maddening wliirl, 
 Societies' whims and fashion's sW-irl. 
 Deceitful masks, and hypocrite's smiles, 
 Hidden snares, and the tempter's wiles, 
 AVhited sepulchers. with outside fair, 
 But dead men's bones are hidden there; 
 Ease and elegance, outward show. 
 Borne along in the restless floAv. 
 All that will serve to gratify 
 Lust of the flesh, and lust of the eye — 
 This is the world. 
 
 What is the world, and what its end ? 
 Wh ere does its flowery pathway trend ? 
 What does it bring to the hungry heart 
 When its painted tinselries depart? 
 Keen disapointments withering Hight, 
 
The Unknown Ton^. 173 
 
 Burning tears and sorrow's night. 
 A wasted life, with vain regret. 
 Conscience, which never can forget, 
 Cruel remorse with tireless sting. 
 The ibitter dregs of life's poisoned spring, 
 Dread forebodings of coming doom, 
 A hopeless death, and a cheerless tomb — 
 This is the world. 
 
 1902. 
 
 THE UNKNOWN TOMB. 
 
 God buried him; and to this day, 
 
 In lonely Moab, far away, 
 
 No man knows where his grave was made. 
 
 No one knows where his form was laid. 
 
 But somewhere, in the dreary wild, 
 
 God scooped a grave; and like a child 
 
 Soothed to sleep on its mother's breast, 
 
 He gently laid him down to rest. 
 
 In the desert, far from mortal eye. 
 The angels gathered to see him die, 
 And clustered round the solemn scene, 
 With wing-vailed faces all serene. 
 But so softly his spirit passed away, 
 That none of the angels knew that day, 
 When over his face God's glory swept. 
 Whether he died, or only slept. 
 
174 Cloud Rifts. 
 
 And was it death? Did he truly die? 
 Or did he see, when God drew nigh, 
 All unprotected by His hand, 
 More of His glory than fiesh could stand; 
 'Till the vision sealed his ej'elids close, 
 And Ood's lips kissed his spirit loose; 
 And the selfsame hand restored the clay, 
 Which gathered it on man's natal day? 
 
 Over his grave no dirge was sung, 
 
 No wail was heard, no knell was rung. 
 
 No tears were shed when he fell asleep; 
 
 The angels sang, they could not w^eep. 
 
 He lived as God's familiar friend, 
 
 And died in His arms at the journey's end. 
 
 He gazed in His face till sight grew dim; 
 
 'Twas fitting that God should bury him. 
 
 God buried him and left no trace ; 
 
 And only the angels marked the place. 
 
 Stern Nebo keeps the secret well; 
 
 The wild winds murmur, but will not tell. 
 
 The green leaves whisper, as they stir, 
 
 "Who knoweth the place of his sepulcher?" 
 
 Yet somewhere, 'round his lonelj' tomb, 
 The grass grows and the flowers bloom; 
 The wild bee hovers on drowsy wing; 
 The feathered creatures flit and sing ; 
 The seasons come and go forgot. 
 
Morning and Evening. 175 
 
 And the Ages tread across the spot, 
 
 In lonely Moab, far away, 
 
 But no man knoAveth to this day. 
 
 1905. 
 
 MORNING AND EVENING. 
 
 I stood in life's young morning. 
 
 When 'the dawning east was red; 
 And into its kindling glory 
 
 The path of my future led. 
 But the shadows lay around me, 
 
 And the way was rough and wild ; 
 And it seemed so far to the dawning, 
 
 "With its crimson clouds up-piled. 
 
 And I saw the heavy crosses, 
 
 And the burdens hard to bear, 
 Which strewed the flinty pathway, 
 
 And the thorns which girt it there ; 
 And my heart cried out, reluctant 
 
 To meet life's dawning day, 
 And I wished that the path of my future 
 
 Had led me some other way. 
 
 I stood again, in the gloaming. 
 
 In the evening of life's day; 
 While the sun went down in crimson, 
 
 And the crimson changed to gray. 
 
176 Cloud Rifts. 
 
 Eternity's liglit, in-flooding, 
 
 Lit up the path of my past, 
 And, illumined by its splendor, 
 
 My vision was cleared at last ; 
 
 And I saw the heavy crosses, 
 
 And the burdens hard to bear. 
 Which bowed my weary shoulders — 
 
 But the hand of God was there ! 
 And over the flinty pathway 
 
 I saw His glory shine. 
 And there where the thorns were thickest, 
 
 His footprints close to mine. 
 
 And I saw that the rugged pathway 
 
 Had 'been the best for me ; 
 It had made my life the sweeter, 
 
 In Time and Eternity. 
 And standing there in the gloaming. 
 
 In the evening of life's day, 
 I was glad that the path of my future 
 Had led me that self-same way. 
 
 1905. 
 
 THE BEST GIFT. 
 
 I dreamed that the Master came to earth, 
 And sat on a throne in royal state ; 
 
 And the •v^'^hole w^orld came, from far and near, 
 The rich and poor, 'both small and great. 
 
The Best Gift. 177 
 
 And each one carried an offering, 
 
 As he came the royal guest to greet, 
 And one by one, they passed the tlirone, 
 
 And 'laid their gifts at the Master's feet. 
 
 The rich men brought of their hoarded store, 
 
 Kubies and pearis and precious gems; 
 But the Master only boAved His head, 
 
 He had but little need for them. 
 The nobles of earth their titles brought, 
 
 And tlie honor position brings ; 
 But to Him 'twas only an empty show, 
 
 And sounding brass to the King of kings. 
 
 Kings and princes, before the throne. 
 
 Knelt and offered their jeweled crowns ; 
 The rulers of earth their scepters brought 
 
 To the Savior's feet and laid them down. 
 But the Master sighed as they went away, 
 
 For some were haughty, and some were proud, 
 And the love of some was only feigned ; 
 
 Their hearts were cold, though their praise was 
 loud. 
 
 Then some brought deeds of charity, 
 
 Done in the name of the Holy One ; 
 And the Savior turned and smiled on them, 
 
 And blessed their deeds, and said, "Well done." 
 But last of all a pilgrim came. 
 
 Who had journeyed far to greet his King ; 
 
178 Cloud Rifts. 
 
 His g'arb was poor and travel-stained, 
 
 And I wondered what gift he would bring. 
 
 He was young and fair ; his noble brow 
 
 Was stamped with purity and truth; 
 His step w^as firm, and his kindling eye 
 
 Was lit with the fires of youth. 
 But alas ! He had no offering ! 
 
 No golden store nor precious stone, 
 He wore no crown, no scepter swayed, 
 
 No title to plead before the throne. 
 
 He knelt at the throne, with empty hamds, 
 
 And dropped a tear on the Master's feet; 
 He had no gift, so he gave himself, 
 
 And his youthful heart with love replete, 
 And the Master raised the kneeling youth, 
 
 And blessed him and claimed him for His own ; 
 And clothed him in royal robes of state, 
 
 And lifted him up to share His throne. 
 
 I looked again, and the throng had passed ; 
 
 They had left their gifts and gone their way ; 
 And I turned to view the mass of wealth. 
 
 As before the crystal throne it lay. 
 But the lustre had faded from the gems. 
 
 And the gleaming gold w^as changed to rust ; 
 And the scepters w^ere broken, the titles lost. 
 
 And the crowns had crumbled back to dust. 
 
 Of all the gifts that w^ere brought that day 
 
Youth and Age. 179 
 
 The noble youth remained alone ; 
 For he who gave himself to the Lord 
 
 Gave more than gold or precious stone. 
 For the gift of gold has a value set; 
 
 But the gift of love has priceless worth; 
 And 'twas only for that one true gift 
 
 The Master came that day to Earth. 
 
 1903. 
 
 YOUTH AND AGE. 
 Eccl. 12. 
 
 While the youthful blood is quick and warm, 
 
 And existence holds a magic charm, 
 
 While life is yet in the swelling bud, 
 
 Let the heart go out to meet its God. 
 
 While the days come not, nor the years draw nigh, 
 
 Wherein no earthly pleasures lie. 
 
 When the sun grows dim at noonday height, 
 
 And the pale moon wanes in full orbed flight, 
 
 Wliile the stars burn low in their sockets deep. 
 
 And their shivering rays through the silence creep. 
 
 When the sullen clouds return again. 
 
 After the dreary, fitful rain, 
 
 And the naked branches, swinging slow, 
 
 Drip on the mouldering leaves below. 
 
 Wiiile the days come not, nor the years draw nigh, 
 
 Wherein no earthly pleasures lie. 
 
.180 Cloud Rifts. 
 
 When the keepers of the house shall quail, 
 
 The strong men bow, and courage fail, 
 
 And the grinders cease their work to do, 
 
 Wearied because they are so few; 
 
 And those who through the windows gaze. 
 
 Are darkened by the gathering haze, 
 
 And the doors are shut, in the 'busy street, 
 
 And the rhythmic tread of restless feet 
 
 Blends with the throbbing measure, slow, 
 
 When the sound of the grinding lingers low ; 
 
 And he rises up at the night-bird's cry, 
 
 And the daughters of music in sorrow lie. 
 
 While the days come not, nor the years draw nigh, 
 
 Wlierein no earthly pleasures lie. 
 
 When that which is high is clothed with dread, 
 
 And vague fears come with haunting tread, 
 
 And the almond tree, with fruitful bough. 
 
 In prodigal richness droopeth low; 
 
 And the grasshopper piping, sad and lone, 
 
 Burdens the silence with his tone. 
 
 And life is like a closing tale. 
 
 When the senses droop and desires fail ; 
 
 And age is sere, and the time has come 
 
 When man goes down to his long, long home, 
 
 Where he will not hear the solemn feet 
 
 Of the mourners who go about the street. 
 
 While the days come not, nor the years draw nigh, 
 
 Wherein no earthly pleasures lie. 
 
 Or ever the silver cord is loosed. 
 
Shipwrecks. 181 
 
 Or tlie golden 'bowl is shattered and bruised, 
 
 Or the pitcher at the fountain broke, 
 
 In fragments dashed by a sudden stroke, 
 
 Or the restless wheel at the cistern swings, 
 
 An idle, useless, broken thing. 
 
 Then shall the dust return to earth, 
 
 And the soul to God Who gave it birth. 
 
 While the days come not, nor the years draw nigh. 
 
 Wherein no earthly pleasures lie. 
 
 1906. 
 
 SHIPWRECKS. 
 
 Shipwrecks of faith ! oh, how they lie 
 Cast up on the shore, afar and nigh, 
 
 By the restless wave ! 
 Fragments of wreckage, shoreward tossed, 
 From the noible ships, forever lost. 
 
 In a boundless grave. 
 
 Beautiful sails of snowy white, 
 Eeflecting beams of ruddy light 
 
 From the haven fair. 
 Precious cargo, of priceless worth. 
 Brighter than all the gems of earth. 
 
 And its jewels rare. 
 
 But scudding clouds o 'erspread the sky ; 
 
182 Cloud Rifts. 
 
 A driving storm ; the waves rose high, 
 
 In wild alarm. 
 A traitor's hand was on the Avheel; 
 The good ship turned upon her keel, 
 
 Driving with the storm. 
 
 In vain the compass, with warning hand, 
 Pointed back to the haven-land 
 
 Which they sought to win. 
 The helm was set with reckless hand; 
 A crash ! Oh God ! the fatal strand 
 
 On the reefs of sin ! 
 Shipwrecks of faith ; by the tempests breath, 
 Hurried on to the awful death 
 
 Which awaits them all ; 
 Some on the sea of Time still tossed, 
 Some 'neath the waves of Eternity lost, 
 Waiting the trumpet call. 
 
 RESIGNATION. 
 
 Peace, weary heart ! be still ! be stilh-. 
 Nor longer thro'b against G-od 's will. 
 He giveth only what is best; 
 Who gladh" takes, is freely blessed. 
 For Grod dwells in the future years, 
 Nor changes them to dry our tears. 
 Vain is thy ever-during plea ; 
 Oh heart of mine, it must not be ! 
 
"I Will Follow Thee." 183 
 
 For every heart must sometimes choose, 
 But some must win, and some must lose ; 
 Some find their joy, and some their ^ief, 
 Gleaning the stu'bblefields of life. 
 But earth loss may be heaven gain, 
 Eternal joy the fruit of pain. 
 He hath a sterner path for thee; 
 Oh, heart of mine, it must not be ! 
 
 And df you erred and chose awrong. 
 
 'Twas but for Time, 'twill not be long. 
 
 Perchance in Heaven Grod will bestow 
 
 The boon denied to thee below, . . 
 
 He seeth far. He seeth we'll, 
 
 He heareth what the ages tell ; 
 
 He chooseth best for thee and me; 
 
 Oh heart of mine it must not be ! 1905. 
 
 "I WILL FOLLOW THEE." 
 Luke 9 :57. 
 
 Thou knowest all things blessed Lord, 
 And Thou alone canst see. 
 
 And search and try the human heart — 
 Thou knowest I love Thee. 
 
 Thou knowest. Lord, how "vveak I am. 
 And that my strength is frail. 
 
 But Lord I trust and look to Thee ; 
 
184 Cloud Sifts. 
 
 Thy strength can never fail. 
 Lord, I will follow Thee. 
 
 I know not wiiat the future holds 
 
 "Within its guarded store ; 
 I ask not, Lord, to look beyond 
 
 The present moment's door. 
 Enough for me, to know that Thou 
 
 Hast all things in Thy power. 
 Lord, do Thou give me grace and strength 
 
 For this the present hour, 
 And I will follow Thee. 
 
 To whom else shall I go for help, 
 
 Amid life's weary strife, 
 For Thou alone, oh Son of God, 
 
 Hast words of truth and life, 
 And Thou alone canst give me peace 
 
 Which passeth not away ; 
 For all Thy paths are paths of peace, 
 
 Which lead to perfect day. 
 Lord, I will follow Thee. 
 
 I hate the vain and empty world, 
 Its glitter, pomp and show; 
 
 It satisfieth not the heart. 
 And worketh endless -woe. 
 
 Sin's pleasures but a season last. 
 Then quickly they depart ; 
 
 I love Thee. Lord, for Thou alone 
 
Hope and Trust. 185 
 
 Hast satisfied my heart. 
 
 Lord, I will follow Thee. 
 
 Thoug'h straig'ht the way that leads to life, 
 
 And few will enter in, 
 Though friends and loved ones turn Away 
 
 To tread the paths of sin, 
 Though ties he severed dear as life, 
 
 Thy chastening hand I own ; 
 Though a']] the world should turn aside, 
 
 And I must walk alone, 
 
 Lord, I Avill follow Thes. 
 
 Though toil and pain my lot should be. 
 
 And crosses hard to bear. 
 Hast Thou not borne much more for me. 
 
 That I Thy joy might share? 
 Then welcome all that Thou dost send, 
 
 Whate 'er Thy will may be ; 
 I am content, if through this life, 
 
 My Savior leadeth me. 
 
 Lord, I will follow Thee. 
 
 1901. 
 
 HOPE AND TRUST. 
 
 Why art thou fearful, oh my soul? 
 
 Why dost thou thro'b with vague unrest? 
 Hope thou in God, and trust in Him ; 
 
186 Oloud Rifts. 
 
 Will He not give thee what is best? 
 His pierced hand still leads thee on, 
 
 Although, through doubt and fear, unseen. 
 God's sunshine will dispel the gloom, 
 
 Though dark the elouds that intervene. 
 
 What though the future years seem dark, 
 
 And fraught with sorrow, tears and pain? 
 The wings of faith shall bear thee up, 
 
 And all thy loss shall be but gain. 
 Dread not the future, oh my soul ! 
 
 Although by mortal eyes unseen. 
 It holdeth naught but Gt)d's good will, 
 
 Though unsolved mysteries intervene. 
 
 Seek not to scan the future years. 
 
 But with the present be content. 
 The future cometh not to man ; 
 
 To-day is all that God hath lent. 
 His grace is for the present given. 
 
 And not for future days unseen ; 
 Present moments -compose this life. 
 
 Though many the years that intervene. 
 
 Trust God, whatever comes to thee, 
 Lean not unto thine erring ways; 
 
 Omniscience watches o'er thy path. 
 And giveth strength to suit thy days. 
 
 Oould'st thou but view life's weary way 
 From out Eternity's serene 
 
The Live Coal. 187 
 
 Thou wouldst not change, if given choice, 
 One weary step that intervenes. 
 
 1902. 
 
 THE LIVE COAL. 
 Isa. 6. 
 
 The prophet stood by the temple door, 
 And saw the Lord of Hosts appear; 
 
 His throne was high, and lifted up. 
 
 And the prophet's heart was filled with fear. 
 
 The seraphim cried, with faces vailed, 
 
 "Oh holy, holy, Lord of Hosts!" 
 The house was filled with a cloud of smoke, 
 
 And a trembling seized upon the posts. 
 
 Then, ' ' Woe unto me ! " the prophet cried, 
 "For I am a man with lips unclean; 
 
 Dwelling with people of unclean lips. 
 For I the Lord of Hosts have seen!" 
 
 The seraph tieAv witli a living coal. 
 
 From off the altar 'before the throne, 
 And laid upon the prophet's lips. 
 
 And bade his iniquity 'be gone. 
 
 And the mystic power of the sacred flame 
 Pierced to the depths of his trembling soul. 
 
188 Cloud Rifts. 
 
 Consumed the dross of his sinful heart, 
 And made his fallen nature whole. 
 
 Then the voice of God came ringing do-woi, 
 As He cried, "Oh who will go for us, 
 
 And whom shall I send as messenger. 
 To carry the word of righteousness? 
 
 The voice stole in on the prophet's soul, 
 From sin's polluting stains made free, 
 
 And his heart leaped up in glad response. 
 And answered, "Here am I, send me!" 
 
 Oh, the harvest fields are white today, 
 The ripened grain is bending low; 
 
 And God still calls to the sons of men, 
 "Whom shall I send, and who will go?" 
 
 The Spirit waits with the burning coal, 
 The flaming fire of perfect love. 
 
 To touch the lips and hearts of men 
 With power and blessing from above. 
 
 Then who will list to the Master's call. 
 And heed the world's despairing cry, 
 
 And lift his heart and voice to God 
 And gladly answer, ' ' Here am I. ' ' 
 
 1902. 
 
What Profit? 189 
 
 WHAT PROFIT? 
 Mai. 3:14. 
 
 What profit that our weary feet 
 
 Have pressed the narrow way of life, 
 And our tired hands have held the sword 
 
 When others faltered in the strife ? 
 What profit that our burning tears 
 
 Baptized the barren, roek-strewn way, 
 And sighs of pent-up anguish burst 
 
 From aching hearts too full to pray? 
 
 What profit that our souls have bowed 
 
 Beneath the burden, and endured 
 The pangs of death to rescue souls, 
 
 To God and righteousness inured? 
 What profit? hearts are hard and cold, 
 
 Unrelenting as the flinty stone ; 
 And they have thrown Thine altars down 
 
 And turned to worship gods their own! 
 
 What profit? Doubting heart be still! 
 
 God lives, and His foundation stands ! 
 He has a remnant j^et reserved. 
 
 Kept within the hollow of His hand, 
 Who have not bowed the knee to Baal, 
 
 Nor stooped his image to caress; 
 Who walk with God, and undefiled, 
 
 Still keep the way of righteousness. 
 
190 Cloud Rifts. 
 
 What profit ? Here an hundredfold, 
 
 And endless profit yet to come ! 
 God guides our weary feet in paths 
 
 Which lead us soonest to our home. 
 God who gave the burden, and inspired, 
 
 And winged with faith our earnest prayer, 
 Will bring to full maturity 
 
 The ripening fruit — 'sometime — somewhere. 
 
 Think not the la'bor all in vain ; 
 
 God watches with omniscient care. 
 He treasures up the sighs and tears, 
 
 And marks the agonizing prayer. 
 Some day we'll rise a'bove earth's mists, 
 
 And view life's path with undimmed eyes. 
 And find the seeming defeats of faith 
 
 Were only victories in disguise. 
 
 1904. 
 
 THE WHEAT AND THE TARES. 
 
 The field was prepared ; the husbandman 
 Scattered the seed with impartial hand; 
 Golden wheat of the threshing floor. 
 Fresh from the garner's hoarded store. 
 But while men slept, in the still, dark night, 
 An ememy came, with footsteps light, 
 And sowed vile tares with the precious wheat. 
 Then went his way Avith noiseless feet. 
 
The Wheat and the Tares. 191 
 
 The days have passed in their ceaseless flow ; 
 The wheat and the tares together grow, 
 And heaven's dew, and heaven's rain, 
 Fall on the tares, and fall on the grain ; 
 And the summer sun, with equal share. 
 Blesses alike the wheat and tare. 
 But the blade and ear, when fully grown, 
 Determines what kind of seed was sown. 
 Oh Master ! the tares grow high and strong ! 
 We fear they will choke the wheat ere long ! 
 Wilt thou, then, that thy servants go 
 And root them out, that t/he wheat may grow? 
 But the Master answered, ' ' Nay, not so ! 
 Let the wheat and tares together grow ; 
 Lest, while ye seek to destroy the cheat, 
 Ye trample down the tender wheat. 
 
 Fear not ; though the tares may flourish still, 
 My precious wheat they cannot kill. 
 For fighting the false, with ceaseless toil, 
 Will strike the true into deeper soil. 
 The curse the enemy meant to send 
 Will prove a blessing in the end. 
 While the tares are growing worthless leaves. 
 The wheat is changing to golden sheaves. 
 In harvest time, when the fields are white. 
 And the reapers come with sickles bright, 
 The worthless tares, which grew in vain. 
 They shall gather in, from hill and plain. 
 And bind them in bundles, to feed the fire. 
 
192 Cloud Rifts. 
 
 Where the hungry flames shall never tire. 
 But each fruitful sheaf, with drooping head, 
 Shall be gathered home where the feast is spread." 
 
 1904 
 
 THE OLD AND THE NEW. 
 
 When first the Pentecostal church, 
 
 Baptized with flaming tongues of fire, 
 Went forth to preach the cross of Christ, 
 
 And lift mankind from sin's deep mire. 
 They heard the Savior's parting words; 
 
 "Gro forth, and teach in all the world. 
 Until, to earth's remotest bounds 
 
 Salvation's banner is unfurled." 
 They heard and heeded ; forth, they went. 
 
 Strong in the power of Jesus' might, 
 And the heathen, who in darkness sat, 
 
 CaugSit the gleam of the gospel light. 
 
 And Christ looked down from Hiis throne above, 
 
 And blessed the consecrated band; 
 And mightily grew the Word of God, 
 
 Spreading in power throughout the land. 
 And men grew bold to do and dare. 
 
 And counted not their lives as dear; 
 'Mid hardship, peril, want and death. 
 
 They onward marched and knew no fear. 
 Wonderful miracles were wrought, 
 
The Old and the New. 193 
 
 And the faithful church great power received ; 
 And the heathen who in darkness sat 
 Saw and wondered and believed. 
 
 But in after years the church grew rich, 
 
 And acquired wonderful fame 
 In numbers and popularity, 
 
 And made herself a mighty name. 
 The cross no longer brought reproach, 
 
 She wore no more a robe of shame; 
 And persecutions no more clung 
 
 About the risen Savior's name. 
 The church forgot her mission grand, 
 
 To bring the world to Christ again, 
 And the sin-cursed islands of the sea 
 
 Wondered and waited and watched in vain. 
 
 The church grew cold and lost her zeal. 
 
 And the missionary spirit died. 
 The heathen in darkness groped their way. 
 
 While the church passed by on the other side. 
 Some were sadly indifferent, 
 
 And some so selfish they hardly cared ; 
 And some so covetous had grown 
 
 Their time and means could not be spared. 
 And when God called, from the church 's ranks, 
 
 A few great souls of noble worth. 
 To carry His word across the sea. 
 
 The church was too poor to send them forth. 
 
 Some were busy collecting funds 
 
194 Cloud Rifts. 
 
 And building churches to worship in ; 
 Steeples and domes, and frescoed walls, 
 
 While the heathen died in want and sin. 
 Some were busy composing creeds, 
 
 Fashioned to suit the changing age ; 
 And some, with fervent, tireless zeal, 
 
 "Were criticising the sacred page. 
 And the church sat down to eat and drink. 
 
 To live for self and be at ease; 
 And closed her ears to the pleading cry 
 
 Of dying souls across the seas. 
 
 And Christ looked down on the erring church, 
 
 As she sat in idleness and ease, 
 And cried, "Ye did it not to Me, 
 
 Inasmuch as ye did it not to these ! 
 Thou hast turned away from thy early love, 
 
 Thy precious birthright thou hast sold; 
 Thou hast a name to live, though dead, 
 
 And I would that thou were hot or cold! 
 Remember then thy first estate, 
 
 Repent and do thy first works o'er; 
 And in every island of the sea, 
 
 I set before thee an open door!" 
 
 1902. 
 
 WEAVING. 
 
 I slept and dreamed ; and in my dream, 
 I sat before a, loom and wove 
 A wondrous web, that ever grew 
 
Weaving. 195 
 
 In matchless color and design, 
 
 Bright as the rainbow's varied tint. 
 
 And many came and looked, and cried, 
 
 "How beautifnl! A wondrous robe!" 
 
 And still I chose the brightest threads, 
 
 And wove them in, and told myself, 
 
 ' ' *Tis for the Master when He comes. ' ' 
 
 And ere I knew it, while I worked, 
 
 He stood besiide me at the loom. 
 
 And while I thought to hear His praise, 
 
 He gently took the fluttering thread 
 
 And slowly raveled out the we^b. 
 
 Then at my feet, a tangled heap 
 
 Of plain gray twine He placed, and said, 
 
 "Weave Me a ro»be from these, my child;" 
 
 Then smiled, and touched my head in blessing, 
 
 And was gone. I bent a*bove the heap 
 
 And drew the tangled threads apart, 
 
 As best I could, and wove them in ; 
 
 And wept to see the dull design. 
 
 And thought, "Wliat will the Master say? 
 
 It seems so plain, so unfit for Him !" 
 
 And ere I knew it, while I worked. 
 
 He stood beside me at the loom. 
 
 And while I stood confused, and shamed. 
 
 He smiled and touched the homely robe ; 
 
 And at His touch each plain, dull strand 
 
 With living colors richly glowed ; 
 
 And every tear that stained its thread, 
 
 Changed to a gem. and sparkled there. 
 
196 Cloud Rifts. 
 
 And i^v'hile I wondered, I awoke. 
 
 And knew the dream was my own life. 
 
 1907. 
 
 THE HARP OF LIFE. 
 
 Ijife is a harp of many strings, 
 
 And we tune them as we will ; 
 Resonant strings, which weep and mourn, 
 
 Airy strings, which sweetly thrill. 
 Our unskilled fingers sweep the strings. 
 
 And our heart throbs beat the time, 
 And Earth vibrates with the broken strains, 
 
 As we sing life's changing rhyme. 
 
 Many a harp is out of tune, 
 
 And some of the strings are gone ; 
 Missing notes in the melody, 
 
 But the minstrel still plays on. 
 Some are striking a single note. 
 
 In weary monotony; 
 Fondly dreaming a one-stringed harp 
 
 Is making sweet melody. 
 
 Some are sweeping the finer strings, 
 
 And singing of selfish ease ; 
 Never touching the deeper notes 
 
 Of generous sacrifice. 
 They grieve the harp lacks melody. 
 
Somewhere. . 197 
 
 And never a heart is stirred; 
 They have not learned that the psalm of life 
 Eequires each trembling chord. 
 
 Some string their harps to earth's refrain, 
 
 And the song clings close to earth ; 
 For things terrene will ever cleave 
 
 To the clay which gave them birth. 
 The song that knocks at Heaven's gate, 
 
 Must Heaven and Earth combine; 
 An earthly harp, and a mortal hand, 
 
 But attuned to notes divine. 
 
 Oh soul, sweep over the harp of life, 
 
 Till it wakes to strains complete. 
 From depths of human pain and woe. 
 
 To heights that are infinite ! 
 Until its notes, like Bethel stairs, 
 
 Thrill with the touch of angel feet, 
 Sweeping their dazzling trains of light, 
 
 Where Divine and human meet! 
 
 1905. 
 
 SOMEWHERE. 
 
 Somewhere in the deep 
 Of Eternity, 
 Beyond the sweep 
 Of the things which be. 
 
198 Cloud Rifts. 
 
 When Time has died, 
 
 And the world, grown gray, 
 
 Is crowned with the pride 
 
 Of a better day — 
 
 I shall see 
 
 With unclouded eye! 
 
 Somewhere in the deep 
 
 Of the star-pricked sky, 
 
 Where the worlds, asleep. 
 
 In their blue beds lie, 
 
 When the soul has cast 
 
 Its clogs awa.y. 
 
 And lost the Past 
 
 In the bliss of Today — 
 
 I shall know 
 
 With a perfect mind ! 
 
 Somewhere in the deep 
 
 Of Infinity, 
 
 Where Faith shall reap. 
 
 What it held in fee. 
 
 And all that my heart 
 
 Has longed to be. 
 
 From the depths shall start, 
 
 And come to me — 
 
 I shall love 
 
 With a boundless love I 
 
 1906. 
 
A Prayer. 199 
 
 A PRAYER. 
 
 God guide my feet ! 
 And when they blunder in their good intents, 
 And cause myself or others pain, 
 Oh gently smooth away the erring prints. 
 
 And lead them right again ! 
 
 God guide my heart ! 
 And gather up my errors and mistakes. 
 
 And fashion them anew, 
 And change them, in the forge of Providence 
 To what I meant to do ! 
 
 1906. 
 
JUN29 1908