IV--DOMESTIC BLISS

Sequestered in their calm domestic bower, They sat together. He in manhood's prime And she a matron in her fullest flower.

The mantel clock gave forth a warning chime.

She put her work aside; his bright cigar Grew pale, and crumbled in an ashen heap.

The lights went out, save one remaining star That watched beside the children in their sleep.

She hummed a little song and nestled near, As side by side they went to their repose.

His arm about her waist, he whispered "Dear,"

And pressed his lips upon her mouth's full rose - The sacred sweetness of their wedded life Breathed in that kiss of husband and of wife.

V--OLD AGE

The young see heaven--but to the old who wait The final call, the hills of youth arise More beautiful than sh.o.r.es of Paradise.

Beside a glowing and voracious grate A dozing couple dream of yesterday; The islands of a vanished past appear, Bringing forgotten names and faces near; While lost in mist, the present fades away.

The fragrant winds of tender memories blow Across the gardens of the "Used-to-be!"

They smile into each other's eyes, and see The bride and bridegroom of the long ago.

And tremulous lips, pressed close to faded cheek Love's silent tale of deathless pa.s.sion speak.

RETROSPECTION

I look down the lengthening distance Far back to youth's valley of hope.

How strange seemed the ways of existence, How infinite life and its scope!

What dreams, what ambitions came thronging To people a world of my own!

How the heart in my bosom was longing, For pleasures and places unknown.

But the hill-tops of pleasure and beauty Were covered with mist at the dawn; And only the rugged road Duty Shone clear, as my feet wandered on.

I loved not the path and its leading, I hated the rocks and the dust; But a Voice from the Silence was pleading, It spoke but one syllable--"Trust."

I saw, as the morning grew older, The fair flowered hills of delight; And the feet of my comrades grew bolder, They hurried away from my sight.

And when on the pathway I faltered, And when I rebelled at my fate, The Voice with a.s.surance unaltered, Again spoke one syllable--"Wait."

Along the hard highway I travelled And saw, with dim vision, how soon The morning's gold locks were unravelled, By fingers of amorous noon.

A turn in the pathway of duty - I stood in the perfect day's prime, Close, close to the hillside of beauty The Voice from the Silence said "Climb"

The road to the beautiful Regions Lies ever through Duty's hard way.

Oh ye who go searching in legions, Know this and be patient to-day.

HELENA

Last night I saw Helena. She whose praise Of late all men have sounded. She for whom Young Angus rashly sought a silent tomb Rather than live without her all his days.

Wise men go mad who look upon her long, She is so ripe with dangers. Yet meanwhile I find no fascination in her smile, Although I make her theme of this poor song.

"Her golden tresses?" yes, they may be fair, And yet to me each shining silken tress Seems robbed of beauty and all l.u.s.treless - Too many hands have stroked Helena's hair.

(I know a little maiden so demure She will not let her one true lover's hands In playful fondness touch her soft brown bands So dainty-minded is she, and so pure.)

"Her great dark eyes that flash like gems at night?

Large, long-lashed eyes and l.u.s.trous?" that may be, And yet they are not beautiful to me.

Too many hearts have sunned in their delight.

(I mind me of two tender blue eyes, hid So underneath white curtains, and so veiled That I have sometimes plead for hours, and failed To see more than the shyly lifted lid.)

"Her perfect mouth so liked a carved kiss?"

"Her honeyed-mouth, where hearts do, fly-like, drown?"

I would not taste its sweetness for a crown; Too many lips have drank its nectared bliss.

(I know a mouth whose virgin dew, undried, Lies like a young grape's bloom, untouched and sweet, And though I plead in pa.s.sion at her feet, She would not let me brush it if I died.)

In vain, Helena! though wise men may vie For thy rare smile, or die from loss of it, Armoured by my sweet lady's trust, I sit, And know thou are not worth her faintest sigh.

NOTHING REMAINS

Nothing remains of unrecorded ages That lie in the silent cemetery time; Their wisdom may have shamed our wisest sages, Their glory may have been indeed sublime.

How weak do seem our strivings after power, How poor the grandest efforts of our brains, If out of all we are, in one short hour Nothing remains.

Nothing remains but the Eternal s.p.a.ces, Time and decay uproot the forest trees.

Even the mighty mountains leave their places, And sink their haughty heads beneath strange seas The great earth writhes in some convulsive spasms And turns the proudest cities into plains.

The level sea becomes a yawning chasm - Nothing remains.

Nothing remains but the Eternal Forces, The sad seas cease complaining and grow dry, Rivers are drained and altered in their courses, Great stars pa.s.s out and vanish from the sky.

Ideas die and old religions perish, Our rarest pleasures and our keenest pains Are swept away with all we hate or cherish - Nothing remains.

Nothing remains but the Eternal Nameless And all-creative spirit of the Law, Uncomprehended, comprehensive, blameless, Invincible, resistless, with no flaw; So full of love it must create for ever, Destroying that it may create again, Persistent and perfecting in endeavour, It yet must bring forth angels, after men - This, this remains!

COMRADES

I and my Soul are alone to-day, All in the shining weather; We were sick of the world, and put it away, So we could rejoice together.

Our host, the Sun, in the blue, blue sky Is mixing a rare, sweet wine, In the burnished gold of this cup on high, For me, and this Soul of mine.