Poetry

smiles that wreathe upon your lips.
Find sentinels on mine:

Your lightest sigh I’m echoing,
I tremble with your pain,
And all your tears are falling
In my heart like bitter rain.

Contemplation

We stand mute!
No words can paint such fragile imagery,
Those prismic gossamers that roll
Beyond the sky-line of the soul;
We stand mute!

Dead Leaves

The breaking dead leaves ’neath my feet
A plaintive melody repeat,
Recalling shattered hopes that lie
As relics of a bygone sky.

Again I thread the mazy past,
Back where the mounds are scattered fast⁠—
Oh! foolish tears, why do you start,
To break of dead leaves in the heart?

Dawn

Trailing night’s sand-sifted stars,
Rainbows sweep, as day unbars,
Fragrant essences of morn,
Bathe humanity⁠—new-born!

Elevation

There are highways in the soul,
Heights like pyramids that rise
Far beyond earth-veilèd eyes,
Sweeping through the barless skies
O’er the line where daylight dies⁠—
There are highways in the soul!

Peace

I rest me deep within the wood,
Drawn by its silent call,
Far from the throbbing crowd of men
On nature’s breast I fall.

My couch is sweet with blossoms fair,
A bed of fragrant dreams,
And soft upon my ear there falls
The lullaby of streams.

The tumult of my heart is stilled,
Within this sheltered spot,
Deep in the bosom of the wood,
Forgetting, and⁠—forgot!

Whither?

Minutes swiftly throb and pass,
Shadows cross the dial-glass,
Speeding ever to some call,
Weary world and shadows, all.

Down the closing aisles of day,
Tramping footsteps die away,
But no tidings thread the gloom,
From the hushed and silent tomb.

Quest

The phantom happiness I sought
O’er every crag and moor;
I paused at every postern gate,
And knocked at every door;

In vain I searched the land and sea,
E’en to the inmost core,
The curtains of eternal night
Descend⁠—my search is o’er.

Mate

Our separate winding ways we trod,
Along the highways, unto God,
Unbonded by the clasp of hand,
Without a vow⁠—we understand,
Estranged for aye, the fusing kiss,
Omnipotent, we bide in this⁠—
They need no trammeling of bars
Whose souls were welded with the stars.

Emblems

A wordless kiss, a stifled sigh,
A trembling lip, a downcast eye,
“Alas,” they say,
“A-day, a-day,”
The cruse has failed, the lamp must die!

Mirrored

When lone and solitaire within your chamber,
With lamp unlit, as evening shades unroll,
If you reveal the trail your thoughts are taking,
I then may read the riddle of your soul.

For it is then, the tired mind unveiling,
Drifts stark into the holy after-glow,
Within the hour of quiet meditation,
The tidal thoughts, like limpid waters, flow.

Repulse

Nobody cares when I am glad,
I beat upon their hearts in glee,
“Drink, drink joy’s brimming cup with me,”
All echoless, my ecstasy⁠—
Nobody cares when I am glad.

Nobody cares when I am sad,
Whene’er I seek compassion’s breast,
I falter wounded from my quest
Back! back into my heart, sore prest⁠—
Nobody cares when I am sad.

Query

Is she the sage who will not sip
The cup love presses to her lip?
Or she who drinks the mad cup dry,
And turns with smiling face⁠—to die?

Pent

The rain is falling steadily
Upon the thirsty earth,
While dry-eyed, I remain, and calm
Amid my own heart’s dearth.

Break! break!! ye flood-gates of my tears
All pent in agony,
Rain, rain! upon my scorching soul
And flood it as the sea!!

Pages from Life

Not for your tender eyes that shine,
Nor for your red lips pulsing wine,
I love you, dear: your soul divine,
In sweet captivity, holds mine!

---

The tender eyes have lost their glow,
The flagons of the lips run low,
The autumn trembles in the air⁠—
A woman passes solitaire!

Recall

Winter⁠—aback sweeps the inward eye,
Fleet o’er the trail to a rose-wreathed sky,
Girt by a cordon of dreams I dwell
Deep in the heart of the old-time spell.

Almost, the tones of your whispered word,
Almost! the thrill that your dear lips stirred,
Almost!! that wild pulsing throb again⁠—
Almost!!!⁠— (’Tis winter, the falling rain).

Gethsemane

Into the garden of sorrow,
Some day we all must roam,
If not to-day, then to-morrow,
Bow ’neath its purple dome,
Out from the musk-laden banqueting halls,
Doffing our mirth-spangled vestments like thralls,
Softly we wend to Gethsemane,
In the hour that sorrow calls!

Impelled

Athwart the sky the great sun sails,
Through aeons thus, the daylight trails,
And man, living breath of the sod
Beholding, in his heart knows God.

Throughout the night’s long brooding deep,
Earth’s trustful children die-to-sleep,
But with the whisperings of morn
Awake, unto the day, new-born.

The mystery of earth untold,
The great infinite, none behold,
Forge ever new the spiral chain,
Revolving man to God again.

Eventide

The silence of the brooding night,
Enfolds me with its eerie light;
I lie upon its shadowed breast
A pilgrim, wearying for rest.

Nightfall! thy sable curtains steep
My very soul in solace deep,
God sends thee with thy soothing balms,
That I may falter to thy arms.

Thrall

Fragile, tiny, just a sprite,
Holding me a thrall bedight,
Stronger than a giant’s wand
Serves the word of your command.

Out from rushing worlds, though low
Should you whisper, I would know,
And would answer, though the breath
Be the gateway unto death.

Youth

The dew is on the grasses, dear,
The blush is on the rose,
And swift across our dial-youth,
A shifting shadow goes.

The primrose moments, lush with bliss,
Exhale and fade away,
Life may renew the Autumn time,
But nevermore the May!

Joy

There’s a soft rosy glow o’er the whole world to-day,
There’s a freshness and fragrance that trembles in May,
There’s a lilt in the music that vibrates and thrills
From the uttermost glades to the tops of the hills.

Oh! I am so happy, my heart is so light,
The shades and the shadows have vanished from sight,
This wild pulsing gladness throbs like a sweet pain⁠—
O soul of me, drink, ere night falleth again!

Posthumous

Of what avail the tardy showers,
To the famished summer flowers?
All in vain the rain-drops cry,
Dead things never make reply.

Life’s belated cup