Page 75

She walketh in the Poppyland of life

And in her tender eyes are vestal fires

Lit to the Lovegod of her Realm of Dreams.

Alas, sweet mystic, did one spirit shape,

Ever so shadowy, breathe aught of me,

And make those fair lights in thine eyes to bend

Their warmth upon me, e'er so brief a spell,

I could go happier my lonely way.

But not for me will that soft cheek take

flower,

And mayhap for no other formed of clay.

Reality to her is still unreal.

She tread the earth as 'twere a globe of

cloud,

And walketh in the Poppyland of life.

Aug 21, '02.

Overhauled Jan. 17, '03.

 

Page 76

Goodby, Loraine.

The time has been so pleasant since

I knew you.

So full of all that made life dear & sweet,

It seemed to me eternal spring ran through

you

To place its choicest blossoms at my feet.

But it must end as all things here must

end.

The roses bud, the roses overblow,

Sweet summer's glory dies in winter's

snow.

Night follows day; death follows life-

and so,-

Loraine, goodby.

 

Page 77, #39

I have a little Boat of Love

Moored where the lilies blow.

'Tis safe & sure & strong & true

And the waters are calm below.

I have filled my boat with the fairest

floweres that ever the earth did see.

O exquisite white maiden, come in my

boat with me.

My dancing little[?] boat,

My rose-decked little[?] boat

And we'll drift & dream

Where the moonbeams gleam

Like fireflies found afloat.

I have a little Boat of Love, it passes

easy cots,

And fertile farms & great green fields

starred with forgetmenots,

And ruined tow'rs. And it anchors

safe in the fort where angels be

O exquisite white maiden come in

my boat with me.

My daffy boat of Love

My prayer-hung [heavy?] boat of Love,

[Page 78]

And we'll row & row

Where the angels go,

Aye, straight to the realm above.

 

[#40]

Dear God of Mercy, mercy have on me

Who set an idol in Thy holy place.

But I am flesh & not divinity.

Father of love, I fire in his embrace

As dead iron fires in the living steel;

And then the only heaven that I feel

Worthy the struggle, is his eyes on mine

While earth is earth. Let Death bring what

it will.

Hell cannot be unhappy while it sill

Leaves me the memory of glorious earth.

His love enfolds me like the love of Christ.

His kiss is holy sacrament. His smile

Babtismal fire. His words are saving grace.

His touch is benediction. And his face,

Forgiving One, to whom all sinners ____[?]

Shines on me like the star of Bethelem!

"Abroad"-Sept 1 '97[?]

 

Page 79

 

A gay musician I, nor knew a care,

My life a life of seeming,

Until I gazed in Illa's eyes & there

The soul of music saw upon me beaming.

The soul of music! Music was my god,

And when I saw her hid in Illa's eyes,

I needs must follw wheresoe'er she trod,

And worship her within that fair disguise.

One day sweet Illa's fingers on [hand upon] the keys

Trembled, & wondrous! marred the perfect strain.

I saw it as the heartsick wanderer sees

The open door that welcomes home again.

That dear white hand within my own I took.

"Illa", I whispered, "may I keep it so?"

The eager blood my anxious cheek forsook.

Fearing my love that loved me might say no.

Oh, foolish fear! My dear love's heart rebelled

That I should doubt & seeking to reprove.

She raised her eyes. There looking I beheld

The sould of Music through the eyes of love.

Dec. 30, 18--

 

Page 80, #41

Narcissus.

Fair Narcissus spied a pool

Sunglints on its waters cool.

Gay Narcissus bending there.

[Rest of poem is missing]

Dec. 30 & 31, 18--

 

#42

What's the use to think on love

When Berenice doth flout me;

Swears by all the stars above

She can live without me?

Prayers will not my lady move.

What's the use to think on love?

Berenice my love continues,

She looks down upon me.

Berenice hath eyes like gems.

They do frown upon me.

Prayers will not my lady move.

What's the use to think on love?

 

Page 83

Encore Song

Marie came tripping thro' the grass

I' faith she was a pretty lass

I told her that I loved her.

Marie

She gave her dainty head a toss

And lov'd I not she'd feel no loss!

She car'd not tho' I loved her.

Marry!

But well I know the maiden lies

I see the lovelight in her eyes

And she I love I'll marry,

Marry [Marie]

 

#43

My Little Sweetheart.

My little sweetheart has two chubby fists

That strike my face like fairy balls of fur,

And deep, sweet lines about her dimpled wrists

Wherein I tuck the kisses kept for her.

Dear little hands & arms, the love you hold

[Page 84]

In your small compass[?], coined[?], were worlds

of gold.

My little sweetheart has a pretty coo

That makes the angels hear & answering

smile.

The golden light here baby eyes

shine through

Was brought from lands above where

was no guile.

Dear little lips & eyes, you do not

know

The wealth of heaven you have brought

below.

March 4 & 5, '03.

 

#44

(A Memory!)

Oh, the day was fair, & the

day was sweet,

When we rode through the pines to-gether!

The squirrels watched with

their quick, bright eyes;

We spoke no word, but the fall

and rise

Of your bosom was language deep.

Oh, the scent of the pines! On, the

smile of the blue!

Oh, the joy of the world! The per-

fect rest!

Your hand on the pommel idly lay,

And mine closed over it all the way.

So we rode and we did not speak.

Oh, the day was fair and the day

was sweet

When we rode through the pines together.

I close my eyes on the wasted years.

My thots fly back from a time of tears,

And I ride again with you.

My hand on yours and we do

not speak

But we ride thro' the wood to-gether.

Oh, the heaven of youth! The

heaving breast!

Oh, the scent of the pines! Oh the

smile of the blue!

Oh, the joy of the world - the per-

fect rest!

Wed. Apr. 8, '03.

 

Page 86, #45

Irish Lament.

Och ohone! Och ohone!

There were moonbeams in

her hair,

And moonbeams in her childish

eyes,

And in here forehead fair.

I cried alound to God above that I

her love might share.

Och ohone!

I heard the banshee wailing!

(O, eyes that never dry!)

E'en love was not availing,

I knew that she must die.

Och ohone!

Och ohone! Och ohone!

There was heaven in her gaze,

And heaven in her thin white

hands,

And in her gently ways.

I saw heav'n close about her to dark-

en all my days.

Och ohone!

[Page 87]

I heard the banshee wailing!

(O, eyes forever red!)

E'en love was not availing;

I knoew that she was dead.

Och ohone!

Sat., May 23, '03.

 

#46

 

(Lament? Dirge?)

She was a breath of summer,-

She was the blue of the sky,

But there was death in her beauty,

Death in her smiling eye.

Death to the heart of the lover

Who waited to see her die.

She was a rose-blown morning,

She was the calm past storm,

But there was death in her singing,

Death in her fragile form.

Soft she sleeps under the pansies;

God keep her safe and warm!

Sunday, May 24th, '03.

 

Page 88

Regret.

If only I had known it yesternight!

O soul of my soul! But your laugh was light

And your eyes so frank that I turned away.

If only I had known it yesterday!

Strange how we two have gone side by side

Till we came to the place where the roads divide,

And sudden a flash of the twilight lent

Shows us the love that our friendship meant.

Side by side, and I did not see

That you were my God-sent destiny.

O man's such a fool! The first coquette

Can draw the vows he must not forget.

We are out of the battle, you and I,

I self-beaten! - you to cry

Like a helpless waif in the world astray,

And bear the brunt of my long delay.

Fool, fool, fool! To hope and care

And never to hazard! And you stood there

With your sleeping heart that had waked to it own

Had I dared to touch - had I only known!

[Page 89]

I wonder if in the code of Fate

One could amend that law too Late?

My soul's one mate; if heaven be true,

All heaven may mean is that I love you.

That I love you! But heaven is far-

There's life to live - and the things that are

Are the things that are. O sweet my friend,

Be my friend still to the journey's end!

Feb. 10-11, '04.

 

I care not if the wind blows chill and the

sky is black above me,

There is one spot where all is sun while I

have you to love me.

Somehow - somewhere - all must grow bright

while I have you to love me.

For swords must clash and foes must siege,

the stout hearts do not fear them;

But God help those who fight alone, say I,

with none to cheer them!

When thy soft voice is in my ear, men mock,

I do not hear them!

Feb. 11, '04.

 

Page 90

At the Bridal.

Rose-red all the western sky,

Rose-red our garden of roses;

Rose-red the glow of our beating hearts,

Rose-red my face where you kissed it.

God! how fresh the memory stirs!

Do you think I can bear it, dearie?

Snow-white all the western hills,

Snow-white the snow hung branches;

Snow-white the cheeks that your kisses paled,

Snow-white - like the gown she is wearing.

God! what a wail in the wedding hymn!

Do you think I can bear it, dearie?

Feb. 27, '04.

 

For Easter.

This in the breath of the lillies,

Morning and noon tide and even,

This in the smile of their beauty,

Their golden hearts deep in their white:

Yon is the Beautiful Pathway,

Then where the All-Father's will is,

What though thy footstep grow weary!

It leads to the Heaven of Light.

[Page 91]

This in the skeen of the lilies,

Winter or springtide or summer,

This in the droop of their glory,

There stately heads bent but to One:

Dreamed you the Beautiful Pathway

Was yellow with daffy-down-dillies.

Summer is not the year round, dear,

The world's other half love the sun.

This in the breath of the lillies,

Sleeping or blooming or dying,

This in the great of their robing[?],

The satin-snow gleam of their white:

Yon is the Beautiful Pathway,

There where the All-Father's will is.

Lo! At the end of the journey,

Thine is the Heaven of Light!

 

What is the cry of the world but the cry of

the world for its mate?

Think you some other sphere in the infin-

ite space, desolate

[Page 92]

Goes endlessly whirling and searching,

too eager, too helpless to wait?

My dear,

What is the cry of the world but the cry

of the world for its mate?

What is the cry of my heart but the cry

of my heart for its own?

Think you that heart of yours could answer

another's moan?

 

Page 96, #47

Who cometh from afar?-

O, soul, uplift thine eyes -

This great white Eastern Star

Points where the Savior lies.

We worship Him anew,

And while our hearts yet burneth,

She goeth like the dew,

Not as the dew returneth.

Thinkst thou we shall not grieve?

When earth has known Her light,

And Luna fair dost leave,

Is it not darkest night?

Thy praise be ever sung;

O Woman sweet, depart, -

Christ's peace upon thy tongue,

Christ's peace within thy heart!

(Impromptu written at Knutsford

Hotel for Madame Mountford

Alburn[?], but I didn't have the

courage to put it in)-