The Project Gutenberg EBook of Song-waves, by Theodore H. Rand This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org Title: Song-waves Author: Theodore H. Rand Release Date: October 14, 2008 [EBook #26916] Language: English Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1 *** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK SONG-WAVES *** Produced by Al Haines Theodore H. Rand. _After a painting by J. W. L. Porter_ Theodore H. Rand. After a painting by J. W. L. Porter SONG-WAVES BY THEODORE H. RAND D. C. L. Author of "At Minos Basin and other Poems," and "A Treasury of Canadian Verse." TORONTO WILLIAM BRIGGS 1900 Entered according to Act of the Parliament of Canada, in the year one thousand nine hundred, by EMELINE A. RAND, at the Department of Agriculture. CONTENTS. PAGE To EMELINE . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 13 SONG-WAVES . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 17 A bird on sudden, as I write . . . . . . . . . . . . 48 Above the scarred cliff's iron brow . . . . . . . . 23 Across the hills the cattle call . . . . . . . . . . 39 After the winds there is surcease . . . . . . . . . 24 All day an ashen light serene . . . . . . . . . . . 55 A quiet breath distils in calm . . . . . . . . . . . 33 As on a hill-top near the sun . . . . . . . . . . . 46 As turns my heart its crimson leaves . . . . . . . . 53 Break into flower, O garden fair . . . . . . . . . . 93 Calm soul, unkindled by the sight . . . . . . . . . 36 Celestial sweetness swift outstrips . . . . . . . . 61 Dimly beheld, thou excellent . . . . . . . . . . . . 57 Doubt flies before the truth that's quired . . . . . 28 Fair as the light on fire-tipt hills . . . . . . . . 58 Far off and veiled it seems to me . . . . . . . . . 34 Far up the brook, beyond the lin . . . . . . . . . . 78 Filled oft with portents, oft withdrawn . . . . . . 25 Frail Lucia of a mutual love . . . . . . . . . . . . 87 Fresh sprig of greenest southernwood . . . . . . . . 49 Green tracery of fern to rust . . . . . . . . . . . 74 Hail, Mary, honored of the race . . . . . . . . . . 86 Her steps fall sweet as summer rain . . . . . . . . 60 Hope's clear blue eye is open wide . . . . . . . . . 82 How swift soft-feathered Time sails on . . . . . . . 71 I dreamed I drew my parting breath . . . . . . . . . 80 I feel the season's dreamy call . . . . . . . . . . 50 If mighty angels fair and tall . . . . . . . . . . . 38 I keep one picture in my heart . . . . . . . . . . . 52 Immortal Love, immortal ruth . . . . . . . . . . . . 94 Impressions vast and vague flow in . . . . . . . . . 19 I see that power is not in art . . . . . . . . . . . 83 I would enshrine in silvern song . . . . . . . . . . 13 Like oxeye daisies of the field . . . . . . . . . . 91 Look now! The crested waters sleep . . . . . . . . 70 Love bows herself in holy prayer . . . . . . . . . . 45 Love's inspirations of the lyre . . . . . . . . . . 90 Man's highest word, as God's above . . . . . . . . . 44 Men plow and sow while moves the sun . . . . . . . . 27 My quickened sense can only plod . . . . . . . . . . 72 Never before has my ear heard . . . . . . . . . . . 56 O glorious light! Thy limpid wave . . . . . . . . . 85 O June has lit her splendid lamp . . . . . . . . . . 32 O patriot, ruler, leader great . . . . . . . . . . . 88 O soul that art essential change . . . . . . . . . . 17 Over the brow of lofty scar . . . . . . . . . . . . 69 Philosophy doth dig and draw . . . . . . . . . . . . 65 Pure lily, open on the breast . . . . . . . . . . . 30 Revolving without rest and goal . . . . . . . . . . 31 Says one who with the sad condoles . . . . . . . . . 76 Spirit of song, life's golden ray . . . . . . . . . 18 Sunshine, O soul, is not a mood . . . . . . . . . . 47 Superbest power with sweetness wed . . . . . . . . . 22 Sure in this realm of Sense and Time . . . . . . . . 54 Sweetheart, I dedicate to thee . . . . . . . . . . . 16 The bird of needle beak, and breast . . . . . . . . 29 The flecks of gold that glorify . . . . . . . . . . 41 The full ripe year, these maple hills . . . . . . . 79 The ideal is a lifting sky . . . . . . . . . . . . . 42 The infinite in grand repose . . . . . . . . . . . . 66 The mirrored silence of this pool . . . . . . . . . 68 The scarlet arch of evening fills . . . . . . . . . 63 The sovereign law of human life . . . . . . . . . . 92 The spirit firm and swelling soul . . . . . . . . . 43 The sweep, O heart, of Love's account . . . . . . . 21 The sword and spear and savage knife . . . . . . . . 89 The "trees of God," the prophet said . . . . . . . . 40 The world's a train at speeding rate . . . . . . . . 81 There are no solitudes to view . . . . . . . . . . . 37 There ever wakes an evil wraith . . . . . . . . . . 77 This golden-browed September land . . . . . . . . . 51 This tiny life, with exquisite wings . . . . . . . . 64 Thus wrought the Seen-Unseen the spell . . . . . . . 15 'Tis fit the bloodroot in white hood . . . . . . . . 20 Two lives made one, the man and wife . . . . . . . . 67 Unnumbered traits shine in thy face . . . . . . . . 62 Unveiled as kinsman, Love did seek . . . . . . . . . 84 Vast promise is the sea, and vast . . . . . . . . . 35 We talked of bird and flower and tree . . . . . . . 14 What nature mirrors and reveals . . . . . . . . . . 73 What though the sea-shell cheats the ear . . . . . . 75 Who loveth not the elm tree fair . . . . . . . . . . 26 With lathe of viewless hyaline . . . . . . . . . . . 59 THE WHITETHROAT . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 95 SUMMER . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 97 GLORY-ROSES . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 100 THE WIND . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 103 THE CRYSTAL SPRING . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 104 AY ME! . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 111 THE YEARS . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 112 THE NOTE OF NATURE . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 114 AT THE FORD . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 117 REPOSE . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 120 [Greek: tà pánta e'n au'tô sunéstêken.] (In Him all things hold together.) TO EMELINE. would enshrine in silvern song The charm that bore our souls along, As in the sun-flushed days of summer We felt the pulsings of nature's throng; When flecks of foam of flying spray Smote white the red sun's torrid ray, Or wimpling fogs toyed with the mountain, Aërial spirits of dew at play; When hovering stars, poised in the blue, Came down and ever closer drew; Or, in the autumn air astringent, Glimmered the pearls of the moonlit dew. We talked of bird and flower and tree, Of God and man and destiny. The years are wise though days be foolish, We said, as swung to its goal the sea. Our spirits knew keen fellowship Of light and shadow, heart and lip; The veil of Mâyâ grew transparent, And hidden things came within our grip. And then we sang: "In Arcady All hearts are born, thus happy-free, Till film of sin shuts out the Vision That is, and was, and that is to be." Thus wrought the Seen-Unseen the spell To which our spirits rose and fell. As drops of dew throb with the ocean, We felt ourselves of His tidal swell. "Nature's enchantment is of Love,— Goodness, and truth, and beauty wove; In Him all things do hold together, And onward, upward to Him they move." And as we spake the full moon came, A splendid globe in silver flame, From out the dusky waste of waters, Reposeful sped by His mighty name. Sweetheart, I dedicate to thee These Song-Waves from life's voiceful sea. They ebb and flow with swift occasion, Bearing rich freight, and perhaps debris. Each murmuring low its song apart May hint a symphony of art, Since under all, within, and over, Is diapason of Love's great heart. For thee, as on the bridal day, (Sweet our November as the May!) Are joined in one our high communings; So take them, dear, as thine own, I pray. TORONTO, 1900. {12} {13} {14} {15} {16} SONG-WAVES soul, that art essential change, Bickering beams, a flutter strange, Lightning of thought and gust of passion, A silver thread in this mountain range; The waters of thy shimmering rill, More real are they than granite hill; Thy tremulous waves of mystic feeling Nourish a life of enduring will. The sun and moon from spacious height, And stars, may crumble into night; Why shouldst thou cease to move forever, A living glow of eternal light? pirit of Song, life's golden ray That burneth in this house of clay, Despite the stress of blast and tempest To quench the flickering light and play; Rapture of seraphs bright thou art, Yet kindlest in the human heart The fluid soul's upbreathed emotion, Whose light shines clear as a star apart,— A fairer light of sweeter fame Than science knows to praise or blame, Wherein the soul has open vision, And feels the glow of His holy flame. mpressions vast and vague flow in From Somewhat that to me is kin. Shall I assemble them all careless In the mind's garret or waste dust-bin? Nay. In solution in the soul's Own hot equators, frosty poles, I'll more and more their import cherish, Their deeps on deeps to my shelving shoals. O heart, with tentacles in sea, Like oral-disked anemone, Taste thou the wine of shoreless oceans, And feed on food that was meant for thee! is fit the bloodroot in white hood Should brave the parting winter's mood,— Come, thou, pale violet, streaked, sweet-scented, Beside the runs of this tempered wood. I hunger for thy gentle face, Sweetest of all the wildwood race! O flower, at once ideal and essence, Why stayest thou from thy wonted place? Thou art not dead? Nay, when death crept Upon thy form, thy full life leapt Defiance at the harsh destroyer, And slept as seed! Thou hast overslept. he sweep, O heart, of Love's account! Hearken: "I am of life the Fount; All are within My deeps of Being, {17} {18} {19} {20} {21} The toiling city, the sea, the mount. "Yea, when thou cleav'st the pillared tree, Raisest the stone, I am with thee; Darkness and light, flux and becoming, Signal My presence, and ceaselessly. "Regard Me not as though afar; Ope thine heart's eyes, and, lo, My Star Burns 'neath Time's vesture, true Shekinah, Centre and Soul of the things that are." uperbest power with sweetness wed The inner eye doth overspread, And vasts of nature blend as beauty Suffused with awe at the Fountain Head. The stream of power that floweth here I see in pageant of the year, Aye shimmering as light and shadow— A wonderment on the verge of fear! The world's not dead but animate, And gives as free to mean as great; Wealth of true power is not a kingdom Of time and place, but the soul's estate. bove the scarred cliff's iron brow There speeds the fruitful crooked plow; While on the soft west wind come odors Of plumy pine and of balsam bough. Here at the base another sight— It ceaseth not by day nor night— Ormudz and Ahriman contending, Destroyer dark and White Soul of light! Bared by life's ever beating brine, The rocky bases that define Of good and ill the place of meeting, Be bugle-call to this heart of mine! fter the winds there is surcease; Take courage, heart, and be at peace; The printless beach, all combed and shining, In beauty lies with its windrow fleece. Impetuous as a torrent's speed White horses raced this watery mead, With manes of chrysoprase aflowing, Each neighing loud to its neighbour steed. The wastes that finger pebbly shores, Unplowed by ship nor cut by oars, His music wake as sweet as attar, And flash in light as the heavenly floors. illed oft with portents, oft withdrawn, My inward skies, from earliest dawn To this full hour, have borne their witness Of one who out of the darkness shone. The soul is dowered with awful things, Mystic as sound of unseen wings,— The sense of God, of Law, of Duty, Of Life, and Destiny. Signet rings Flash on these fingers of one hand— The Hand of God! The mean, the grand, Tremble beneath the fearsome covert Till lurid sky with the Rainbow's spanned. {22} {23} {24} {25} ho loveth not the elm tree fair, A fountain green in summer air, Whose tremulous spray cools the faint meadow, And croons to all of a careless care? It shades the city's paven way, Where redbreast knows the white moon's ray; It sentinels the moss-grown homestead, And waits the men of a coming day. Its curving lines that fill the sight, Like mellow meteor's path of light, Or orbèd spring of walls of azure, My spirit greet from the infinite. en plow and sow while moves the sun Away, away from work begun; Ofttimes they've heard "Seedtime and harvest Are sure"—the word of the Sovereign One. We link our deeds with law supreme, In field and flood, in wood and stream; We test Omnipotence by labor, And reap rewards of no idle dream. Obedience is the astringent wine That's quaffed by strenuous souls and fine, Of cloudy doubt the heavenly solvent, The Christ's elixir of life divine. oubt flies before the truth that's quired When earth in living green 's attired, As ghosts before the daystar's rising,— The grass is ever God finger-spired. When life is low my awe-stirred soul No vision has of nature's whole; It would unsheathe a weapon naked And cut the bands of divine control. The Nazarene knows no decrease,— He shed His beams on Rome and Greece! O radiant is His word: Consider The springing grass, and have rest and peace! he bird of needle beak, and breast Of orange flame, doth weave its nest At tip of branch, a cradle swinging To all the airs of the south and west. Who schooled thy needle to begin Its forth and back and out and in, Till plaited cot, a gourd-like pendant, Shall temper winds to thy first of kin? Thy sun-bright mate, his joy to prove, Flutes sweet his ardors from above. O golden robin, skyey-nested, ure lily, open on the breast Of toiling waters' much unrest, Thy simple soul mounts up in worship Like ecstasy of a spirit blest! Thy wealth of ivory and gold, All that thou hast, thou dost unfold! Fixed in the unseen thy life breathes upward {26} {27} {28} {29} {30} A heavenly essence from out earth's mould. Now comes the chill and dusk of night,— Folds up thy precious gold and white! Thy casket sinks within veiled bosom, To ope the richer in morrow's light. evolving without rest and goal The way of life of budding soul, From seed to leaf and stalk, I see it, From leaf to bloom and from bloom to whole. About the Daystar, God-indwelt, It turneth to His influence felt, Till, dusk beam-smitten into daylight, It in the palpitant heavens doth melt. Lift, lift, ye gates of endless noons, That entrance yield on God's own boons Of liberty as law in fruitage, And timeless months of transcendent Junes! June has lit her splendid lamp In the broad meadow lush and damp, Where loves the brook in loops to loiter, And tufted vernal to pitch its camp! Last night she veiled the starlit sky, And walked beside the brook so shy; She took from out her beating bosom A lighted orchis—and passed on high. At dawn July came o'er the hills— O light of eye and deep heart-thrills, As she beheld the glowing orchis Whose splendor now all the meadow fills! quiet breath distils in calm, And fills the fields with honeyed balm; It cools the rose's cheek, and rolleth In drops of dew on the poppy's palm— Each crystal globe filled full of fire, And flashing like a color pyre, All heavened beneath the eye of morning, To sate the hunger of day's desire. O Breath divine, that form and hue, And ecstasy of light and blue, Gave to Orion and the Pleiads, Thou hast begotten the orbs of dew. ar-off and veiled it seems to me, The face of yester dreamy sea, That breathed so soft its shining waters Pungent with odors of rosemary. No sculptured arabesque to-day, But unhewn strength in mighty play, That heaves the ship on bursting billow And smites the cliff in its ancient way! Beneath its silken vestments beat A lion heart of jungle heat; Its couchant soul delights in battle To fell the rock and to whelm the fleet. {31} {32} {33} {34} {35} ast promise is the sea, and vast Its pain. Its secret is held fast,— Now hope's wide open eye and sunny, And now a weeping and wailing past. (I have a grievance unredrest That stings my heart and rends my breast,— Perhaps it gathers in its bosom The sorrows wild of the world's opprest?) Deformity or pain unstrings The music of the soul of things,— Ah, suns burn bright in eyes of panther, And lightnings leap in the eagle's wings! alm soul, unkindled by the sight Of open heavens at noon of night, Thou'lt dread the fires of day of judgment When roll the skies as a parchment slight. He waits not for that upward gaze— The world is full of judgment days; And every night the page is written, "An atheist," or "Behold he prays!" Ah, me! These lights so manifold, So silvern new, so golden old, Do witness swift, like fires of vengeance, Against indifferent hearts and cold. here are no solitudes to view, The whole world lies in drop of dew; From where it hangs all space is open; It neighbors stars of the crystal blue. This open vision has my soul Athrill with silent organ-roll Of immanence divine, and feels it Upgather all in harmonious whole,— Deep waves of God's vast music clear, That pulse one choral atmosphere Of Love's concordant purposes, and Fore-score the song of His golden year. f mighty angels fair and tall, Each robed as priestly seneschal, On altar-suns burn incense daily, As wheel the systems to Love's sweet call, Earth's sun is sure an altar-rose, Abloom from dawn to day's bright close. The mighty angel stoops above it With pulsing wings, as it golden glows, To fan the incense-waves through space. When buds the light or folds its grace, He lifts erect his glorious stature, Kindling the sky from his ruddy face. cross the hills the cattle call, As black the boding shadows fall; Zigzag the lightning writes its message That's thundered forth from the mountain wall. From out the overhanging frown The loosened rain comes rattling down! The swallow's gone, the daisy cowers— But joy to fields in their tan and brown! The burnished cypher of the sky {36} {37} {38} {39} Now lets the loud-tongued thunder die. Nature's delight, a timeless rapture, he "trees of God," the prophet said, Great trees, with sap, and laurelled head; Ay, trees of God! all strength, all beauty, Wove by invisible Hand and thread,— With anchors flexed as lissome withe; With boles like mighty monolith; These arms of brawn, outstretched in power To brave the storms that would test their pith! Lords of the scene in blasts and calms, The breath of life within their palms, They rhythmic sway in choral murmur While seas and suns chant their rolling psalms. he flecks of gold that glorify The forest floors to loving eye, Withdraw from me,—a splendor lingers On trees of God, in their crowns on high. And as the arch with stars is sprent, I hear balm-dew from firmament Drip richly from their whispering leafage To soothe the fields to a sweet content. In bloom of dark they softly stir, Till arrowy dawn the shadow-blur Dispels—God's tingling kiss of morning On oak and maple and pine and fir. he ideal is a lifting sky Wherein my soul may upward fly; It moveth as I onward journey, Solace of heart and the light of eye. Spirit to spirit! Thus is wrought All that uplifts the world of thought Or wings the soul with aspiration, By which the life to its height is brought. Great souls the mount of vision trod, While plumy fire their sandals shod; They saw the unseen and eternal. O life is life when 'tis seen in God! he spirit firm and swelling soul Are heart of noble self-control, Sources of power transmuting danger To clarion-call to the man as whole. 'Tis courage helms the bark that's tost By wild typhoon, or swept by frost, While sailing life's surprising ocean,— Strike sail to fear and the bark is lost. O muse, thou sing'st no siren strain To him who plows this heaven-domed main! Thy starry eyes look down all-wistful On souls that toy with a tangled skein. an's highest word, as God's above, The golden word of words, is love; Its whisper is the soul's one rapture, Its voice the voice of the brooding dove. {40} {41} {42} {43} {44} Immortal rose of joy elate, Thy perfume's waft by palace gate Or hovel door, in cloud or sunshine, That breath of Eden which all hearts wait. Ensouled in clay man's glory is, Yet love dilates this soul of his Till chrysalis of earth be shattered, And comes the answer to Psyche's quiz. ove bows herself in holy prayer To worship ever the All Fair; She coins her heart in largess golden, And beggars self on her altar-stair. Love lifts her hands that, liker yet To One whom on the way she met, All hearts may glow, as sea to sky light, Till earth shall never its heaven forget. Love bears upon her ardent breast The fainting ones in east and west, And yearning cries: Let come Thy kingdom, Be Thou of sorrowing hearts the guest. s on a hill-top near the sun The stars are unseen, every one, While from its base within the valley Their festal pomp is e'en now begun; So lowly lives 'mid shadows passed Have higher skies above them massed, See galaxies and constellations— The many mansions o'er them englassed. Encamped am I; earth's not my home. The glory flashing 'neath yon dome, Refusing to be leashed, like music, Supernal is, and it beckons, Come! unshine, O soul, is not a mood— Open the life unto the good. The great sun globes itself at morning In dewy lawns, but 'tis dark in wood. Up, up, and purge thy spirit's sight. See wheeling wings, superb in flight, Of golden eagle's aspiration! E'en thus aspire to the Central Light. In loom divine the clouds are wove, And shot with hues of irised dove, The blinding shafts of light to temper With airy curtains of Love's own love. bird on sudden, as I write, Through open door in eager flight Seeks refuge from a falcon's talons, Upon my breast, in its fearful plight. Slight bird and dark in olive green, With yellow throat, thy living sheen Doth come and go with thy heart's throbbing,— Safe, safe art thou from his talons keen! I am as God to thee, poor thing! Now take thee to thy heaven and sing A virelay for thy deliverance, Sweet vireo of the olive wing! {45} {46} {47} {48} resh sprig of greenest southernwood, Thou call'st me back to my childhood! Thy aromatic odors waken A thousand echoes. I hear the good Old man of God, long-haired and tall, In the old church, to great and small, His lightning message give, and listen The echoing thunder that rolled o'er all. The tiny child twirls oft its spray Of southernwood,—'tis a far day, Yet fresh I smell the keen aroma, feel the season's dreamy call In hawkbit, asters, 'pyeweed tall,— Glory of August ere September Trumpet the note of the hasting fall. A flash in crystal waters cold— O dream in silver, red, and gold— The speckled trout above the gravel Lies by the rock where the stream is rolled! Grasshoppers chirp and crickets chir, The rich-tagged alders nod and pur, The kine bells drowse the distant pasture,— All nature waits for the coming stir. his golden-browed September land Is rich of heart and free of hand; Fresh from the mint of God, and taintless, Are flung her guineas of gold, like sand. Here where the road winds round the hill, And down beside the tidal mill, Marsh goldenrod and its plumed sister Their spangled ore in a largess spill. The Sabbath sabbatize, said He,— This gold is sacred unto me,— Rich gift of God unknown of mammon, Kingdom of Heaven by the roadside, free! keep one picture in my heart, To be of life a cherished part,— A picture waiting yet its canvas From master hand of divinest art: A wan blind man and Christ sun-brown, Hand in His hand, are walking down The throngèd street into the open Beyond the walls of Bethsaida town. Light of the world with night in kiss! Pathetic scene—a scene of bliss! The rayless eyes are touched to healing! Was ever picture so sweet as this? s turns my heart its crimson leaves, And life's own diary freshly weaves, I see the pages glow intenser, A wondrous story my bosom heaves. Beneath the careless lines there writ Appear in beauty, clear, sunlit, Mysterious Love's own tender story, {49} {50} {51} {52} {53} How this poor heart to His own was knit. Mine, mine, while moons the waters move! Mine, while Heaven lasts, and Love is Love! Methinks He hid this sweet love favor That I might find it—my treasure-trove. ure in this realm of Sense and Time Passes an endless pantomime Of life and thought, whose tone and color A shadow is of a heavenly prime. The rose unfolds from the unseen; It was not to the senses keen; 'Tis broken to the vision softly, A crown of crowns of the summer's green. In hushed and breathless Beauty's name, From out the veiled deeps as flame It comes, a thing of sense, of spirit, And passeth out by the way it came. ll day an ashen light serene Has brooded o'er this longed-for scene, Its tints and damask flush all hiding, As if obscured by a dusky screen. Here when a child I used to lie For hours, and watch the clouds go by, See the black shadows climb the mountain Or safely ride o'er the billowy rye. O Beauty, shy as sylvan run, Demure as some sweet-hooded nun, And wrapt about with grey of gloaming, Unveil thy face to the sinking sun. ever before has my ear heard A sweeter music, passion stirred, Nor depth and purity so azurn, Of breathing dawn and of morning bird. She comes, in heyday of her blood, Over the groves and waiting flood! The air is vital with her presence, And banners wave from the woodbine's bud. AEolian sylphs touch soft their lutes, Brooks tinkle, tinkle past the roots, As Beauty, hidden in the cover, Fingers the stops of her melting flutes. imly beheld, thou excellent, Ideal of grace! 'tis ravishment To breathe thy atmosphere, O Beauty, Whene'er thou stirr'st in thy greening tent. I cannot see thee as thou art, Nor trace thy goings but in part; O dearer thus, like starry music Half heard, that thrills with its string my heart. If thou shouldst part thy sheeny veil And strike thy fires, my heart would quail Beneath the eye of naked glory, The molten sun, as the moon, be pale. {54} {55} {56} {57} {58} air as the light on fire-tipt hills, From out her hollow hand she spills The pale and powdery moonbeams, sifting O'er sleeping farms and the winking rills. The silvered leaves smile in their sleep; Headlands their hoary watches keep; The glimmering ships the moonglade furrow— The path where beauty fore-walks the deep. And now the powdery beam is thrown On marguerite and pearl moonstone, On fluffy bird with wing aweary,— Soft, dreaming child! 'tis her silver blown. ith lathe of viewless hyaline, She shapes the shell and scale and fin, Dropping unseen her pearls of moonlight, And blushes all as her kith and kin. Distaff of light is in her hand, From which she spins the lily, and The sendal robes of field and forest, With dewy odors in every strand. And from her snow-white palette's dyes She paints the peacock's hundred eyes, The robin's egg, the apple blossom, er steps fall sweet as summer rain, And lull to dream the thoughts of pain,— O glowing grass, O violet skyey, Ye hint of something of fairer grain! She outruns sympathy of crowds; Her dwelling is above the clouds; She stoops to kiss the rose to crimson— Her face no featureless mask enshrouds. Her chatelaine's of amber fine; No hue of coming autumn's wine But she outpours from tawny beaker, And fills each grape of the swelling vine. elestial sweetness swift outstrips The light unleashed of its eclipse!— A fire of dew burns in her bosom, And steady glows through her eyes and lips. She holds fair forms of ferns and seeds, Lichens and fruits and burnished reeds, And pours, in wake of mellow harvest, Splendors of flame on the leaves and weeds. O give, give me my own of that Which sweeps and circles like the bat Around me as I walk in ether, O fair Divine, at whose feet I've sat! nnumbered traits shine in thy face, Harmonious blent in Time and Space; Ideal of form, of tone, of color, Of thought, emotion, and deed, O Grace! Ay me! I speak familiar words. Thou art a presence of my Lord's! Spirit of splendor, thou, O Beauty, That lights His brow, and that crowns and girds. O Christ, Thou bright Heaven's Morning Star, In whom all live and move and are, {59} {60} {61} {62} Thou Chiefest, altogether lovely, Beauty in Time is Thy avatar! he scarlet arch of evening fills Heights o'er the vapor-laden hills With brilliant samite robes that flutter Something beneath that my spirit thrills. O Infinite, and Whom I bless! Glow of embodied perfectness! O Sea of supersensuous Being, Whose tides the unutterable express! (This, this it was that Plato saw On back of Heaven!)—Let self withdraw From this o'ermastering light and splendor, These rolling waves of a trembling awe! his tiny life, with exquisite wings, Is one with all earth's moving things; The light that burns in great Arcturus Is tinct with gold of our wedding rings. In every fibre, every jot, The universe is one, I wot Great God, Thou'rt One, and we Thy offspring Can see some angles of Thy wide thought. Thy footprints mark the ageless years, Thy hand authenticates the spheres; The voice of Time, the hush eternal, One anthem sound in Thy listening ears. hilosophy doth dig and draw; Instinct translateth into law,— The universe in one God dwelling, The poet's vision forekenned with awe. He is a seer in night of Time, Casting red foregleams in his rhyme, Of rising stars on man's horizon; Herald of truth of a choral clime,— Impassioned truth from inward deeps, That oft like lightning sudden leaps From darkness, blazing a far pathway To hills of God, which the sunlight steeps. he infinite in grand repose Moves under life's tempestuous throes, As move the waters deep of ocean Far 'neath the ship when the tempest blows. The cloud-rack streams across the sky, The breaking billows threaten high; These are Time's shadows on the voyage, And bring the infinite Presence nigh. All sunlit seas in joyous dance Might show life but as happy chance, Nor hint of One who saves divinely,— My faith is linked with deliverance. wo lives made one, the man and wife (A mystic thing to world of strife), Serenity of oneness, wholeness, Repose of love as the law of life! {63} {64} {65} {66} {67}