Project Gutenberg's The Comet and Other Verses, by Irving Sidney Dix 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: The Comet and Other Verses Author: Irving Sidney Dix Release Date: March 5, 2013 [EBook #42265] Language: English Character set encoding: UTF-8 *** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE COMET AND OTHER VERSES *** Produced by Nicole Henn-Kneif, Greg Bergquist and the Online Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net (This file was produced from images generously made available by The Internet Archive/American Libraries.) Transcriber's Note: Variations in spelling, punctuation and hyphenation have been retained except in obvious cases of typographical error; the following words have been corrected and marked underlined in the text: Page 10: "sprits" --> "spirits" "evermore" --> "evermore." Page 26: "decendeth" --> "descendeth" "Autnmn" --> "Autumn" Page 31: "thé" --> "the" THE COMET and OTHER VERSES By IRVING SIDNEY DIX DEDICATION To the Memory of my school mate William Morgan who was drowned in the Delaware. Press of Munn's Review Carbondale, Penna. With the Reader [Pg 1] [Pg 2] It should be stated that some of these verses, in a slightly different form, have previously appeared in various periodicals in Binghamton, Scranton, Philadelphia and New York City, but most of them appear here for the first time, and also, perhaps it should be mentioned that some of these stanzas were written during my school days. However, the majority of the following verses have been composed since the former booklet was published. And if in any way you have been helped to see, that even here in this rugged country "the poetry of earth is never ceasing," however rude my interpretation of it may seem to the critical, the labor and expense of publishing this little volume will be fully justified. Irving Dix. Contents Page The Comet 7 Washington 8 The Storm 10 Jim, the Newsboy 11 March Wind Blow 12 The Rime of the Raftmen 13 A Child's Elegy 16 Dreaming of the Delaware 17 Norma 18 Plant a Tree 21 Maid of Shehawken 21 To the Delaware 22 Starlight Lake 24 An Inquiry 25 Twin Lake 26 The Man Who Swears 27 The Glen 28 Hope 30 Lines to Liars 31 Fooling 32 ADVERTISEMENT The Comet—15 cents The Silent Life—15 cents Both Booklets—25 cents These booklets are not published as a financial venture—they are likely to be a failure in this direction, for the cost of printing alone equals the selling price, on account of the small number issued, only 250 copies, and fifty copies are not for sale. Five hundred copies of the Silent Life were printed in 1907, and I have left only 160 copies for sale. I desire to dispose of these and the small edition of "The Comet" during the present year, so that another booklet (containing, I hope still better material) may be issued during the year of 1911. To those who may wish to send copies of either of these booklets to their friends, thereby assisting in the disposal of this edition, the following offer will be of interest. Ten copies, assorted to suit—$1.00. Address: Irving Dix, Shehawken, [Pg 3] [Pg 4] Wayne Co., Penna. Foreword A few years ago, while recovering from an illness, I conceived the idea of writing some reminiscent lines on country life in the Wayne Highlands. And during the interval of a few days I produced some five hundred couplets,—a few good, some bad and many indifferent—and such speed would of necessity invite the indifferent. A portion of these lines were published in 1907. However, I had hoped to revise and republish them, with additions of the same type, at a later date as a souvenir volume of verses for those who spend the summer months among these hills—as well as for the home-fast inhabitants. But in substituting the following collection of verses I hope my judgment will be confirmed by those who chance to read these simple stanzas of one, who— "Loves not man the less, but Nature more From those our interviews, in which I steal From all I may be or have been before, To mingle with the Universe and feel What I can ne'er express, yet cannot all conceal." I. S. D. Copyright 1910 by Irving Dix Verses in this booklet may be copied in the public prints by giving credit as above. The Comet wift circuit-rider of the endless skies, Thou wanderer of the outer, unknown air, Amid those dim, uncharted regions there, Imagination droops—in deep surprise Man doth behold thee, and the fearful speed At which thou spurrest on thy flaming steed. Born of the dark and ever-deepening Past, Who nurs'd thee there in yonder viewless space Afar from earth—thy all-beholding face Hath gazed unspeakable, with clear eye cast Worldward on each magnificent return As if of human progress thou wouldst learn. And thou hast seen each triumph and each plan By which the human race since human time [Pg 5] [Pg 6] [Pg 7] I Hath learned at last Earth's secrets all-sublime While rising from the elements to man— Hast seen it triumph over sea and air And universal knowledge hope to share. Thy circuit measures well the age of man, The epoch of a life—and few there be Who seeing thee, thy face again may see, For human life is but a little span, With varying cycles of a different day, And in diffusion wears itself away. Child of the Sun, when first the human eye Beheld thee coursing in the night afar Like an illumined spectre of a star— Beheld thy awful form against the sky Strong men fell earthward with a coward-cry On their pale lips, as if afraid to die— And that brute King—Nero, the cruel King, When looking on thy fiery face unknown, Sate trembling on his little human throne, And thought that thou didst evil tidings bring— That thou wert writing on the distant skies A doom from which no human king could rise. Thy age is all unknown—man can but guess The time when first the Sun thy circle set— He can but guess thy secret birth—and yet Observing thee his knowledge is not less; He knows each cycle, each return to be A moment in that vast eternity. Recording-comet of th' immortal space, What history thy eye hath look'd upon Since first thy airy, circling course was run! What fallen pride! What scatterings of race! Jerusalem and Nineveh and Rome Didst thou behold from thy almighty dome— Didst thou behold—their birth, their rise, their fall— Low humbled by the under hordes at last, With glory and fair triumphs in the past, And footprints of destruction over all. While thou, fleet comet, with a light divine Continueth upon the earth to shine. Speed on! swift comet—turn, wanderer, turn! And with thy flaming, god-like pen of light On heaven's scroll with burning letters write: Live but to love, O earth!—to love and learn, For while a comet's mighty cycles fail, Love,—love and truth forever shall prevail. Washington t is forever so—when there is need Of some clear, clarion voice to forward lead God raiseth up a man from his own seed; Not from the soft, luxurious lap of earth, [Pg 8] Table of Contents But from a nobler soil, so that from birth The frame is moulded with a chosen food That has one only end—to make it good, Full generous, far-sighted, firm and keen, With strength to rise above the gross and mean— The sordid selfishness that like a curse Drives from the heart the virtues it would nurse— That love of country, freedom's holy cause, Justice, mercy, that eye for equal laws, Faith in the future and our fellow-men, Faith in the sword when shielded by the pen— And so it was with us—when there was need Of one commanding voice to forward lead, God rais'd up here a man from His own seed; And so came forth the gentle Washington, Fair child of Fate, the nation's noblest son, Whom Virtue fostered and whom Virtue won. Some few there be whose feet knew rougher ground, But few indeed a loftier summit found— Nurtured in tender soil, he held a path Where others faltered, heeding not the wrath Of any king or potentate or power— His was the hero-heart—he saw the hour,— He knew the mighty odds, yet would not cower. And when the tyrant's heel touch'd on our shore And thrust itself unbidden to our door,— But Washington alone with eagle-eye Withstood the foe and taught him how to die; Repulsed, disheartened, driven to despair, He lifted up his voice in humble prayer, For in that awful night at Valley Forge He drank the bitter cup—he knew Fate's scourge, He felt her lash,—this tender-hearted George. Father of Liberty—thou Child of Light, Columbia's first-born, who in thy might Restored to Freedom her enfeebled sight— If spirits of the nobler dead can hear, This day—thy natal day—press close thine ear And learn what we thy nation need to fear, And if the immortal dead can truly speak, Show us, O Child of Light, where we are weak,— Grant us thy counsel (for thou art with God) And bear us wisdom where thy footsteps trod, And if thou seest aught of envious strife From virtue sapping all her sweeter life, Teach us, O Child of Light, a purer love, For thou hast learn'd of God—thou art above Thy weak and erring mortals here below Who see the light, yet forward fear to go— Guide us, if spirits of the dead may guide, So that in peace we ever may abide, So that from land to sea, from shore to shore, We shall be brothers now and evermore. The Storm [Pg 9] [Pg 10] Table of Contents A J ll day long the sky was cloudless, Life was waiting for a breath, And the heat was more oppressive Than the fear of sudden death; All day long the sun was shining In a hot and windless sky, And the trees were weak for water— Earth and air were dead and dry. But e'er Night her wings had folded Came a welcome western breeze, Moving idly through the forest, Prophesying to the trees, Till above that dim horizon Giant clouds like warring foes Marshalled far in battle numbers As the wild winds wilder rose. Hark! O hear the double rumble As the thunder shakes the air, Like a thousand hoofs advancing In yon cloudy corral there!— Look!—how red the lightning flashes! How the echoes roll and roll— Dirges from some demon goddess— How the bells of heaven toll! Like a lance, a flash of lightning Cuts the foremost cloud in twain And the thunder's mighty echo Rolls athwart the drenching rain Till the landscape fades like shadows In the driving sheets of spray, And the wind wails through the forest, And the great trees rock and sway. Soon the air is strangely solemn And the winds no longer blow To the thunder's distant drumming In the valley far below; And along the low horizon All the clouds are growing dim, While upon the western hilltops Rolls again the sun's red rim. And away across the valley In the heavens arching high, Like a bed for fairy flowers Swings the rainbow in the sky— Swings until the shadows gather And the sun sinks out of sight, Seemingly to whisper softly To the world a fond good night. Jim, the Newsboy im, the newsboy, died today, So the evening papers say— And the funeral will be In the afternoon at three— [Pg 11] Table of Contents B "Please" (the papers say) "a flow'r Bring for Jim before the hour— Any color that you deem A true token of esteem, If you would remember him— The newsboy, Jim. At his corner near Broad street, Jim, tho' lame, would smiling greet With a merry, winning call All his patrons, great and small, And his fellow newsboys say That they miss him much today, And they have a tablet bought, And upon it this is wrought: "In memory of Newsboy Jim, We all liked him." Little toilers on Life's road To yon visionless abode, There was much of good in Jim Or the boys had disliked him; There was something in his heart That drew patrons to his mart, Something noble, something true— Strive that it be said of you As in eulogy of Jim, "We all liked him." March Wind Blow itter March-wind, blow and blow; Drive away the drifting snow; Toss the tree-tops to and fro; Kiss the ice-bound lakes and streams And arouse them from their dreams. Happy March-wind, blithely blow, Winter's heart is full of woe, Winter's head is lying low; Bring, O bring the melting rain Back unto the earth again. Weeping March-wind, blow and blow Till thy tears of sorrow flow Down thy dying cheeks of snow— Weep away! for man must wait Till those tearful winds abate. Merry March-wind, softer blow, Let the little children know Where the sweetest flowers grow; Let thy tender accents ring From the joyous harp of Spring. All ye wild-winds, blow and blow, Drive away the drifting snow, Bend the bushes, bend them low; Breathe upon the trembling sod Springtime's messages from God. [Pg 12] Table of Contents [Pg 13] Table of T The Rime of the Raftmen I he Delaware above the Rift Each bank is fast o'erflowing, And sweeping onward dark and swift, Wild and still wilder growing It hurls a heavy raft along Upon its rocking way, While the Captain's call the hills prolong At dawning of the day: Pull, lads, pull!—to Jersey side, The Rift is near! Pull, lads, pull!—for the high floods hide The ragged rocks like an ocean tide, And the river's rush I hear. II Safely the Rift is left behind, A careful stearsman stearing; Swiftly we speed, only to find A dizzy eddy nearing, Where rolling in the river-lake, And whirling round and round A dozen rafts the circle make, And warning cries resound: Pull, lads, pull!—Sylvania's shore! The Eddy's near! Pull, lads, pull!—till the sweeping oar Bends like a bow and you hear the roar Of the river in the rear. III The luring eddy lies behind Where the dizzy rafts are whirling, And we speed along with the cutting wind, The foam like suds up-curling, When ahead a sharp curve comes in sight And we hear the Captain call As the raft swerves sudden to the right And the ridges tower tall: Pull, lads, pull!—to Jersey side! The Bend I fear! Pull, lads, pull!—and soon we'll ride On the rolling wave to Trenton's tide With river calm and clear. IV The Bend is past, but the Water-gap Of the Delaware up-rearing, Looms far ahead like a narrow trap As fast our raft is nearing, And calm and deep the waters grow, And scarcely comes a sound Table of Contents [Pg 14] [Pg 15] W Till the Captain's calling, to and fro Re-echoes far around: Rest, lads, rest!—a little while! Be of good cheer! Rest, lads, rest! till yonder isle We safely pass—a few more mile And all our course is clear. V Along the wave we smoothly glide Until the island clearing, When down we speed as with the tide, Now here, now there a veering, Until a great bridge lifts its form Against the evening sky, When like the rolling of a storm The crew repeats the cry: Pull, lads, pull!—Sylvania's shore! The Bridge is near! Pull, lads, pull!—the for'ard oar, And soon our dangerous task is o'er, And little need we fear. VI So on we speed; now fast, now slow; By isle and rift and eddy Until at length along we flow With movement firm and steady; And low and lower lie the hills, And wider spreads the vale, And soft the Captain's calling trills Upon the evening gale: Rest, lads, rest!—our work is done— The danger's o'er! Rest, lads, rest!—another sun Will see a haven safely won By Trenton's friendly shore. A Child's Elegy e know her not whom once we knew, Who died it seems e'er death was due— We know her not; she is asleep; Our hearts are dumb—we can but weep That one so young must bid adieu, Must part so soon from earthly view. Those tender feet we knew so late We hear no more; we can but wait To hear them in the House of God When dust to dust we tread the sod, For in that home of homes they wait For us beside the city's gate. Those little hands out-held in love, That in such innocence did move To fondle each familiar face Are still—they cannot now embrace Table of Contents [Pg 16] I As once they did so like a dove That weary parents would approve. Those little lips that met our own So sweetly when we were alone No more shall meet the lips of earth, Sealed up unto another birth; But when these larger lives have flown Our lips will meet; she will be known. Springtime was here—the birds would soon Have re-appeared—the birds would soon Have warbled from a new-built nest, Would soon have felt beneath their breast The little ones—and such a boon Had taught them still a sweeter tune. But of the little ones not all Will answer to the parent-call, Not all will learn to rise and fly— Many are born, but some must die; Many will rise, but some must fall, And God knows best for each and all. This is the hope—we know not how— This is the hope that lures us now, That makes the parting less of pain— The hope that we shall meet again, And so while unto grief we bow The road beyond seems brighter now. Dreaming of the Delaware I have been far away from the Delaware's shore, From the river where once I did play, But I'm dreaming tonight by the old cottage door Where the moonlight is gleaming bright as day. Refrain: Dreaming, dreaming, dreaming of that dear old stream, Dreaming of the days that are no more— The days so bright and fair, Dreaming in the moonlight gleaming on the shore Of the dear old Delaware. II And the river is still, and so peaceful tonight That its murmur I scarcely can hear, And across it the moonlight is beaming so bright That the scenes of my childhood appear. III And I think of my mother who bade me farewell And the sister who kist me good-bye— [Pg 17] Table of Contents [Pg 18] A They are sleeping below in that beautiful dell But methinks that again they are nigh. IV Long deserted has been the old river home, My old home by the dear Delaware, But never, O never again will I roam From the scenes of my childhood so fair. V I will cherish the dreams I am dreaming tonight, Will upbuild the old homestead once more, And perhaps when I'm dead, for another's delight It will bloom by the Delaware's shore. Refrain. Norma A Legend of the Wayne Highlands long the lake's wild northern shore An island dark with trees Lies shadow-like, and o'er and o'er At midnight thru a leafy door Comes music on the breeze, Sweet music on the breeze, Where sad-eyed Norma dreams, And o'er the wave, in thru the trees The mellow moonlight streams. And Norma's voice is sweet to hear As the breathing of a bell; But while so welcome to the ear Of any one afar or near, The notes, O few can tell! The notes, O few can tell! Falling so wildly sweet, Like the mournful ringing of a bell With the tones still incomplete. How came this maid upon the isle Within the Hills of Wayne? Why sings she sweetly all the while As if to ease her self-denial? Why sings she a refrain At the lonely midnight hour On an island dark with trees, Enchanting souls unto her bower By such sweet melodies? The legend runs:—That long ago A lover came to woo, But left her—why?—(no man doth know) For while her love like wine did flow Away from her he drew— [Pg 18] Table of Contents [Pg 19] He drew from her away, While she was left forlorn And ever (so the legends say) Did daily for him mourn. But Norma left her home one night When all were fast asleep And angel-like she trod the light Moonpath across the waters bright Until she ceased to weep, Until she ceased to weep, Singing a sweet, sweet song That on the lake that lay asleep The night-wind did prolong. And after Norma's death, one day A knock at her father's door Announced the lad who went away When both were lovers young and gay, Who now would love her more Than any other maid, Yes, any other maid, Saying, O where is Norma now, Where is my sweetheart now? O Youth, my daughter is not here— She waited, waited long To hear the voice she held more dear Than all the rest—nor could we cheer Her with another song; But many hear her sing By the island,—sing so sweet That never, never can they bring The song to me complete. The lover sadly turned away And vowed that he would know The song complete e'er dawn of day And followed where the moonpath lay Upon the lake below, Where Norma sang of love On the island dark with trees That cast deep shadows on the cove, And his heart was ill at ease. At midnight o'er the moonlit wave He bent his little boat, Till he heard the song the soft winds gave, But if his life that song might save, He could not tell a note! He could not learn a note! Tho' many, and many, and many a night In the lovely moonpath gleaming bright He listened from his boat. But the song he never, never knew Altho' he listened long, And so it is—is ever true When hearts withhold a love long due; For Love sings one sweet song, One sweet familiar song, At thy heart's door today, And knocking, waits, but waiting long Forever turns away. [Pg 20] Table of Contents [Pg 21] T M Plant a Tree he Past unto the Present cries— Arise, ye more than blind, arise! For I who fell the forest low Would now another forest grow, But what is done I cannot mend, So unto you a message send— Much did I do for you, for me Plant a tree, Plant a tree. The Present, waking from its sleep, Across the hills began to creep, And saw where Past had fallen far A noble forest, with a scar On many a wounded mountain side That from the elements would hide— And answered:—Past, I will for thee Plant a tree, A forest tree. The feeling Future, yet unborn, Heard Present echoing her horn, And stirring somewhat in Life's cell Did try her dearest wish to tell, Whispering in an undertone: I—I shall reap as ye have sown, O heed the Past! and—thanks to thee— Plant a tree, Plant a tree. Maid of Shehawken aid of Shehawken, kind and true, I sing a fond farewell, But, maiden, though I sing adieu, My love I cannot tell— My love I cannot tell to thee For parting gives me pain, Oh may I in the days to be Meet with thee once again. Maid of Shehawken, sweet and fair, Accept my humble praise, And may thy path be free from care, Full happy be thy days, And ever mid the lure of life Where e'er thy lot may be, In pleasant paths or weary strife— Remember, I love thee. Maid of Shehawken, kind and true, Tho' far away we roam, Few places will we find, O few As sweet as our highland home, And tho' Life's pathway lead along The shining streets of gold, Our lips will never know a song [Pg 21] Table of Contents [Pg 22] C As sweet as the songs of old. Maid of Shehawken, dearer far Than any that I know, Lighting my pathway like a star, Afar from thee I go, But tho' I leave the Hills of Wayne My heart is still with thee, O maiden, may we meet again In the days that are to be. To the Delaware ease thy murmuring, Delaware, For thy many braves so fair Who are sleeping by thy stream— Rouse them not—there let them dream. For upon that silent shore Indian's cry shall sound no more. There, where still the owlets cry And the solemn night-winds sigh, Let the victor's head remain With the spirits of the slain, Leave the warriors fast asleep Where the willows o'er them weep, For thy murmuring, Delaware, Cannot wake those sleeping there, For thy voice deep in the foam Cannot ever call them home. There, where low and high degree Sleep beneath the self-same tree, And where warriors small and great, Share in death a common fate, Leave the pale-face and the braves Side by side within their graves. There, where ridges lifting high Try to bridge the endless sky, And where willows bend like lead O'er the footprints of the dead— To each brother slumbering there, Sing sweet songs, my Delaware. Requiem: Brave!—thy happy days have fled Into silence with the dead; Thy canoe, thy well-worn way, And thy bow are in decay. And no more thy camp-fires gleam By thy sweet, complaining stream; And I mourn thy ruthless fate; Weeping am I—but too late— For upon that silent shore Indian's cry shall sound no more. Table of Contents [Pg 23] Table of Contents [Pg 24]