xt7p5h7bsf62 https://exploreuk.uky.edu/dips/xt7p5h7bsf62/data/mets.xml Cawein, Madison Julius, 1865-1914. 1901  books b92-188-30610164 English J.P. Morton, : Louisville : Contact the Special Collections Research Center for information regarding rights and use of this collection. Weeds by the wall  : verses / by Madison Cawein. text Weeds by the wall  : verses / by Madison Cawein. 1901 2002 true xt7p5h7bsf62 section xt7p5h7bsf62 



Weeds by the Wall




             VERSES



                  BY

        MADISON CAWEIN



Author of "Myth and Romance," "Undertones," "Garden of Dreams,"
          -Shapes and Shadows," etc., etc.



-I am God in nature; I am a woed by



the wall."
   -EMERSON.



        LOUISVILLE
JOHN P. MORTON  COMPANY
            1901

 




























    COPYRIGHT, 190I,

Br MADISON J. CAWEIN

 
























                        TO

           DR. HENRY A. COTTELL

Whose Kind Words of Friendship and Approval have Encouraged
          me when I Most Needed Encouragement.

 


FOR permission to reprint most of the poems included in
     thIs volume thanks are due to the "Atlantic Monthly,"
"Harper's Magazine" and "Bafar," "Lippincott's," "Saturday
Evening Post," "New England Magapsne," "Leslie's Montbly,"
"Smart Set," "Truth," "Outlook,"" Independent," "Youth's
Companion," " Woman's Home Companion," " Munsey's," and
a number of other periodicals and magapines.


 


CONTENTS.



                                             PiE
A Wild Iris...........r.....s            ..... I



The Path by the Creek ...........
The Road Home ................
A Twilight Moth .................
Along the Stream................
The Cricket....................
Voices .........................
The Grasshopper ................
The Tree Toad..................
The Screech-Owl ................
The Chipmunk..................
Love and a Day.   ............
Drouth ........................
Before the Rain .................
The Broken Drouth..............
Feud ..........................
Unanointed .....................
The End of All ..........
Sunset and Song ................
Beech Blooms..................
Worship .......................
U nheard ....................
Reincarnation ...................



.3.....---  3
  .5
..... ........ 6
........... .....  
...........  9....  
... ........ it....  
........... 1........I
................13
........... 14.......I

........... ........ 5
....... . i 6
..... ...........- I8
...... ............ 20
.....   ............ 20


... .... ... . 2 2
....-..---24
..... ...........- 2  5


...... ........ .... 27
...... .... ........ 28
 -- - -- 28



On Chenoweth's Run ............................. 29

 


Contents



Home Again ...............
A Street of Ghosts.........
In the Shadow of the Beeches
Requiescat ................
The Quest................
Meeting and Parting ........
Love in a Garden..........
Floridian ..................
The Golden Hour...........
Reed Call for April..........
" -The Years Wherein I Never
Mignon ...................
Qui Docet, Discit..........
Transubstantiation ..........
Helen ....................
A Cameo   ................
La Jeunesse et la Mort ......
Love and Loss............
Sunset Clouds.............
Masked ..................
Out of the Depths ..........
Riches ....................
Beauty and Art ............
The Age of Gold ...........
The Love of Loves .........
Three Things ..............
Immortelles ................
A Lullaby.................
Dum Vivimus .............



                     PAGZ
...................... 30
,  ....................... -. 31
...................... 33
--------------------.-34
---------------------.35
................. ........ 36
--- .................-37
.. ..........  .......... 39
............. i ........ 40


Knew" .................. 42
....................... 42
.----------------------43
.---------  -----------44
.--------------------- 44
.----------------------45
....................... 46
.----------------------47
.----------------------47
....................... 48
................. 49
......................5 0
....................... 50
........ ........ .... .. ...... 5I
....................... 52
........ -52
.----------------------53
....................... 54
..................................... 56

 


Contents



Failure ................................
The Cup of Joy .........................
Pestilence ................
Musings ...............................
At the Sign of the Skull...................
A Cavalier's Toast.....................
Sleep is a Spirit.......................
Kennst du das Land ....................
At Midnight .............
The Man in Gray.......................
Hallowe'en .............................
The Image in the Glass ...................
Her Prayer.............................
The Message of the Lilies................
A Legend of the Lily .....................
The End of the Century .................
The Isle of Voices.....................
A. D. Nineteen Hundred..................
Caverns ................................
Of the Slums ...........................
The Winds ............................
Prototypes ......... ...................
Touches ..............  ................
The Woman Speaks .....................
Love, the Interpreter....................
Unanswered ............................
Earth and Moon.........................
Pearls  ................................



In the Forest...............                     86



       PAGE
......... 57
......... ... 58
    ..... 59
......... .. 6o
......... 62
.,..,,..63
......... 64
.   ........ 65
.. ..... -65
......... 66
......... 67
    ..... 68
......... 70
  ......... 71
....., ...72
..... -  x74
.........'77
         .8I
..... ......... 8I
......... Si....  
......... 82
    .....82
 .. . . ---.83
 ......... 83
 ...  .-- 84
 ........ 84
..........  ... 85
. ........85
......... 86

 





Enchantment ........
Dusk .............
The Blue Bird .......
Can Such Things Be 
The Passing Glory....
September ..........
Hoodoo .............
The Other Woman....
A Song for Labor ....



Contents



      PAG3
........ 87
. ..... . 87
........ 88
........  88
........ .. 89
........ 89
........ 90
........ 91
........ 92



....................
........ ...........
..... ..............
....................
....................
....................
....................
....................
....................

 

FOREWORD.



In the first rare sprng of song,
  In my heares young hours,
In my youth 'twas thus I sang,
  Choosing 'mid the flowers:-

"Fair the Dandelion is,
  But for me too lowly;
And the winsome Violet
  Is, forsooth, too holy.
'But the Touchmenot ' Go to!
  What! a face that's speckled
Like a common milkbing-maid's,
  Whom the sun hath freckled,
Then the Wild-Rose is a flirt,
  And the tnilium  Ll'y,
In her spotless gown, 's a prude,
  Sanctified and silly.
By her cap the Columbine,
  To my mind, 's too merry;
Gossips, I would sooner wed
  Some plebeian Berry.
And the shy Anemone-
  Well, her face shows sorrow;
Pale, goodsooth! aliUC to-day,
  Dead and gone to-morrow.
Then that bold-eyed, buxom wench,
  Big and blond and lazy,-
She's been chosen overmuch !-
  Sirs, I mean the Daisy.
Pleasant persons are they all,
  And their virtues many;

 

'Fiaith I know but good of each,
  And naught i7l of any.
But I choose a May-apple;
  She shall be my Lady;
Blooming, hidden and refined,
  Sweet in places shady."

In my youth 'twas thus I sang,
  In my heart's young hours,
In the first rare spring, of song,
  Choosing 'mid the flowers.
So I hesitated when
  Time alone was reckoned
By the hours that Fancy smiled,
  Love and Beauty beckoned.
Hard it was for me to choose
  From the flowers that flattered;
And the blossom that I chose
  Soon lay dead and scattered.
Hard I found it then. ah, me!
  Hard I found the choosing,
Harder, harder since I've found,
  Ah, too hard the losing.
Haply had I chosen then
  From the weeds that tangle
Wayside, woodland and the wall
  Of my garden's angle,
I had chosen better, yea,
  Far these later hours-
Longer last the weeds, and oft
  Sweeter are than flowers.


 


WEEDS BY THE



                        "A


                 A WILD IRIS.

1HAT day we wandered 'mid the hills,-so lone
         Clouds are not lonelier,-the forest lay
    In emerald darkness 'round us. Many a stone
    And gnarly root, gray-mossed, made wild our way:
And many a bird the glimmering light along
Showered the golden bubbles of its song.

Then in the valley, where the brook went by,
    Silvering the ledges that it rippled from,-
An isolated slip of fallen sky,
    Epitomizing heaven in its sum,-
An iris bloomed -blue, as if, flower-disguised,
The gaze of Spring had there materialized.

I have forgotten many things since then -
    Much beauty and much happiness and grief;
And toiled and dreamed among my fellow-men,
    Rejoicing in the knowledge life is brief.
"'T is winter now," so says each barren bough;
And face and hair proclaim 't is winter now.

I would forget the gladness of that spring !
    I would forget that day when she and I,
Between the bird-song and the blossoming,
    WVent hand in hand beneath the soft spring sky
Much is forgotten, yea -and yet, and yet,
The things we would we never can forget.-



WALL.

 


The Path by the Creek



Nor I how May then minted treasuries
    Of crowfoot gold; and molded out of light
The sorrel's cups, whose elfin chalices
    Of limpid spar were streaked with rosy white.
Nor all the stars of twinkling spiderwort,
And mandrake moons with which her brows were girt.

But most of all, yea, it were well for me,
    Me and my heart, that I forget that flower,
The wild blue iris, azure fleur-de-lis,
    That she and I together found that hour.
Its recollection can but emphasize
The pain of loss, remindful of her eyes.




          THE PATH BY THE CREEK.

          HERE is a path that leads
             Through purple iron-weeds,
             By button-bush and mallow
          Along a creek;
      A path that wildflowers hallow,
          That wild birds seek;
      Roofed thick with eglantine
      And grape and trumpet-vine.

      This side, blackberries sweet
      Glow cobalt in the heat;
      That side, a creamy yellow,
          In summertime
      The pawpaws slowly mellow;
          And autumn's prime
      Strews red the Chickasaw,
      Persimmon brown and haw.



2

 


The Pa/k by she Creek



The glittering dragon-fly,
A wing6d flash, goes by;
And tawny wasp and hornet
    Seem gleams that drone;
The beetle, like a garnet,
    Slips from the stone;
And butterflies float there,
Spangling with gold the air.

Here the brown thrashers hide,
The chat and cat-bird chide;
The blue kingfisher houses
    Above the stream,
And here the heron drowses
    Lost in his dream;
The vireo's flitting note
Haunts all the wild remote.

And now a cow's slow bell
Tinkles along the dell;
Where breeze-dropped petals winnow
    From blossomy limbs
On waters, where the minnow,
    Faint-twinkling, swims;
Where, in the root-arched shade,
Slim prisms of light are laid.

When in the tangled thorn
The new-moon hangs a horn,
Or, 'mid the sunset's islands,
    Guides a canoe,
The brown owl in the silence
    Calls, and the dew
Beads here its orbs of damp,
Each one a firefly lamp.



3

 


The Path by the Creek



Then when the night is still
Here sings the whippoorwill;
And stealthy sounds of crickets,
    And winds that pass,
Whispering, through bramble thickets
    Along the grass,
Faint with far scents of hay,
Seem feet of dreams astray.

And where the water shines
Dark through tree-twisted vineb,
Some water-spirit, dreaming,
    Braids in her hair
A star's reflection; seeming
    A jewel there;
While all the sweet night long
Ripples her quiet song. ...

Would I could imitate,
O path, thy happy state!
Making my life all beauty,
    All bloom and beam;
Knowing no other duty
    Than just to dream,
And far from pain and woe
Lead feet that come and go.

Leading to calm content,
O'er ways the Master went,
Through lowly things and humble,
    To peace and love;
Teaching the lives that stumble
    To look above,
Forget the world of toil
And all its sad turmoil.



4

 

THE ROAD HOME.



O     VER the hills, as the pewee flies,
        Under the blue of the Southern skies
        Over the hills, where the red-bird wings
Like a scarlet blossom, or sits and sings

Under the shadow of rock and tree,
Where the warm wind drones with the honey-bee;
And the tall wild-carrots around you sway
Their lace-like flowers of cloudy gray:

By the black-cohosh with its pearly plume
A-nod in the woodland's odorous gloom;
By the old rail-fence, in the elder's shade,
That the myriad hosts of the weeds invade

Where the butterfly-weed, like a coal of fire,
Blurs orange-red through bush and brier;
Where the pennyroyal and mint smell sweet,
And blackberries tangle the summer heat,

The old road leads; then crosses the creek,
Where the minnow dartles, a silvery streak
Where the cows wade deep through the blue-eyed grass,
And the flickering dragonflies gleaming pass.

That road is easy, however long,
Which wends with beauty as toil with song;
And the road we follow shall lead us straight
Past creek and wood to a farmhouse gate.

Past hill and hollow, whence scents are blown
Of dew-wet clover that scythes have mown;
To a house that stands with porches wide
And gray low roof on the green hill-side.

                         5

 

A Twilight Moth



Colonial, stately; 'mid shade and shine
Of the locust-tree and the Southern pine;
With its orchard acres and meadowlands
Stretched out before it like welcoming hands.

And gardens, where, in the myrrh-sweet June,
Magnolias blossom with many a moon
Of fragrance; and, in the feldspar light
Of August, roses bloom red and white.

In a woodbine arbor, a perfumed place,
A slim girl sits with a happy face;
Her bonnet by her, a sunbeam lies
On her lovely hair, in her earnest eyes.

Her eyes, as blue as the distant deeps
Of the heavens above where the high hawk sleeps
A book beside her, wherein she read
Till she saw him coming, she heard his tread.

Come home at last; come back from the war;
In his eyes a smile, on his brow a scar:
To the South come back - who wakes from her dream
To the love and peace of a new regime.




             A TWILIGHT MOTH.

     USK is thy dawn; when Eve puts on her state
       Of gold and purple in the marbled west,
     Thou comest forth like some embodied trait,
  Or dim conceit, a lily-bud confessed;
Or, of a rose, the visible wish; that, white,
Goes softly messengering through the night,
  Whom each expectant flower makes its guest.



6

 


A4 Twilight Moth



All day the primroses have thought of thee,
  Their golden heads close-haremed from the heat
All day the mystic moonflowers silkenly
  Veiled snowy faces, - that no bee might greet
Or butterfly that, weighed with pollen, passed-
Keeping Sultana charms for thee, at last,
  Their lord, who comest to salute each sweet.

Cool-throated flowers that avoid the day's
  Too fervid kisses; every bud that drinks
The tipsy dew and to the starlight plays
  Nocturnes of fragrance, thy winged shadow links
In bonds of secret brotherhood and faith;
O bearer of their order's shibboleth,
  Like some pale symbol fluttering o'er these pinks.

What dost thou whisper in the balsam's ear
  That sets it blushing, or the hollyhock's,-
A syllabled silence that no man may hear,-
  As dreamily upon its stem it rocks 
What spell dost bear from listening plant to plant,
Like some white witch, some ghostly ministrant,
  Some spectre of some perished flower of phlox

O voyager of that universe which lies
  Between the four walls of this garden fair,-
Whose constellations are the fireflies
  That wheel their instant courses everywhere,-
'Mid fairy firmaments wherein one sees
Mimic Bodtes and the Pleiades,
  Thou steerest like some fairy ship-of-air.

Gnome-wrought of moonbeam fluff and gossamer,
  Silent as scent, perhaps thou chariotest
Mab or king Oberon; or, haply, her



7

 


Al4ong the Stream



  His queen, Titania, on some midnight quest.-
0 for the herb, the magic euphrasy,
That should unmask thee to mine eyes, ah, me!
  And all that world at which my soul hath guessed




             ALONG THE STREAM.

    W       VrHERE the violet shadows brood
             Under cottonwoods and bezches,
             Through whose leaves the restless reaches
    Of the river glance, I've stood,
      While the red-bird and the thrush
      Set to song the morning hush.

    There,-when woodland hills encroach
      On the shadowy winding waters,
      And the bluets, April's daughters,
    At the darling Spring's approach,
      Star their myriads through the trees,-
      All the land is one with peace.

    Under some imposing cliff,
      That, with bush and tree and boulder,
      Thrusts a gray, gigantic shoulder
    O'er the stream, I've oared a skiff,
      While great clouds of berg-white hue
      Lounged along the noonday blue.

    There,-when harvest heights impend
       Over shores of rippling summer,
       And to greet the fair new-comer,-
    June,- the wildrose thickets bend
      In a million blossoms dressed,
      All the land is one with rest.
                        8

 

Tke Cricket



     On some rock, where gaunt the oak
        Reddens and the sombre cedar
        Darkens, like a sachem leader,
      I have lain and watched the smoke
        Of the steamboat, far away,
        Trailed athwart the dying day.

     There,- when margin waves reflect
        Autumn colors, gay and sober,
        And the Indian-girl, October,
     Wampumn-like in berries decked,
        Sits beside the leaf-strewn streams,-
        All the land is one with dreams.

      Through the bottoms where,-out-tossed
        By the wind's wild hands,- ashiver
        Lean the willows o'er the river,
      I have walked in sleet and frost,
        While beneath the cold round moon,
        Frozen, gleamed the long lagoon.

      There,- when leafless woods uplift
        Spectral arms the storm-blasts splinter,
        And the hoary trapper, Winter,
      Builds his camp of ice and drift,
        With his snow-pelts furred and shod,-
        All the land is one with God.


                   THE CRICKET.

                          I.

FIRST of the insect choir, in the spring
        We hear his faint voice fluttering in the grass,
      Beneath some blossom's rosy covering
 Or frond of fern upon a wildwood pass.
                          9

 


The Cricket



When in the marsh, in clamorous orchestras,
The shrill hylodes pipe; when, in the haw's
  Bee-swarming blooms, or tasseling sassafras,
Sweet threads of silvery song the sparrow draws,
  Bow-like, athwart the vibrant atmosphere,-
  Like some dim dream low-breathed in slumber's ear,-
      We hear his " Cheer, cheer, cheer."


                          II.

All summer through the mellowing meadows thrill
  To his blithe music. Be it day or night,
Close gossip of the grass, on field and hill
  He serenades the silence with delight:
Silence, that hears the melon slowly split
With ripeness; and the plump peach, hornet-bit,
  Loosen and fall; and everywhere the white,
Warm, silk-like stir of leafy lights that flit
  As breezes blow; above which, loudly clear,-
  Like joy who sings of life and has no fear,-
      We hear his " Cheer, cheer. cheer."




Then in the autumn, by the waterside,
  Leaf-huddled; or along the weed-grown walks,
He dirges low the flowers that have died,
  Or with their ghosts holds solitary talks.
Lover of warmth, all day above the click
And crunching of the sorghum-press, through thick
  Sweet steam of juice; all night when, white as chalk,
The hunter's-moon hangs o'er the rustling rick,
  Within the barn 'mid munching cow and steer,-
  Soft as a memory the heart holds dear,-
      We hear his "Cheer, cheer, cheer."
                          IO

 


Vo ices



                      IV.

Kinsman and cousin of the Faery Race,
  All winter long he sets his sober mirth,-
That brings good-luck to many a fire-place,-
  To folk-lore song and story of the hearth.
Between the back-log's bluster and the slim
High twittering of the kettle,-sounds that hymn
  Home-comforts,-when, outside, the starless Earth
Is icicled in every laden limb,-
  Defying frost and all the sad and sear,-
  Like love that dies not and is always near,-
      We hear his " Cheer, cheer, cheer."



                   VOICES.

W       AHEN blood-root blooms and trillium flowers
         Unclasp their stars to sun and rain,
       My heart strikes hands with winds and showers
  And wanders in the woods again.

O urging impulse, born of spring,
  That makes glad April of my soul,
No bird, however wild of wing,
  Is more impatient of control.

Impetuous of pulse it beats
  Within my blood and bears me hence;
Above the housetops and the streets
  I hear its happy eloquence.

It tells me all that I would know,
  Of birds and buds, of blooms and bees;
I seem to hear the blossoms blow,
  And leaves unfolding on the trees.
                      II

 


The Grasshopfer



    I seem to hear the blue-bells ring
      Faint purple peals of fragrance; and
    The honey-throated poppies fling
      Their golden laughter o'er the land.

    It calls to me ; it sings to rue;
      I hear its far voice night and day;
    I can not choose but go when tree
      And flower clamor, " Come, away!"




           THE GRASSHOPPER.

       HAT joy you take in making hotness hotter,
 W     r  In emphasizing dullness with your buzz,
         Making monotony more monotonous!
When Summer comes, and drouth bath dried the water
In all the creeks, we hear your ragged rasp
  Filing the stillness. Or,- as urchins beat
A stagnant pond whereon the bubbles gasp,-
  Your switch-like music whips the midday heat.
O bur of sound caught in the Summer's hair,
      We hear you everywhere !

We hear you in the vines and berry-brambles,
  Along the unkempt lanes, among the weeds,
  Amid the shadeless meadows, gray with seeds,
And by the wood 'round which the rail-fence rambles,
Sawing the sunlight with your sultry saw.
  Or,-like to tomboy truants, at their play
With noisy mirth among the barn's deep straw,-
  You sing away the careless summer-day.
O brier-like voice that clings in idleness
      To Summer's drowsy dress!



12

 


          The Tree Toad

You tramp of insects, vagrant and unheeding,
  Improvident, who of the summer make
  One long green mealtime, and for winter take
No care, aye singing or just merely feeding
Happy-go-lucky vagabond,-'though frost
  Shall pierce, ere long, your green coat or your brown,
And pinch your body,- let no song be lost,
  But as you lived into your grave go down -
Like some small poet with his little rhyme,
      Forgotten of all time.


              THE TREE TOAD.

                      I.

S ECLUDED, solitary on some underbough,
      Or cradled in a leaf, 'mid glimmering light,
    Like Puck thou crouchest: Haply watching how
  The slow toad-stool comes bulging, moony white,
  Through loosening loam; or how, against the night,
The glow-worm gathers silver to endow
  The darkness with ; or how the dew conspires
  To hang at dusk with lamps of chilly fires
      Each blade that shrivels now.


                      II.
O vague confederate of the whippoorwill,
  Of owl and cricket and the katydid '
Thou gatherest up the silence in one shrill
  Vibrating note and send'st it where, half hid
  In cedars, twilight sleeps-each azure lid
Drooping a line of golden eyeball still.-
  Afar, yet near, I hear thy dewy voice
  Within the Garden of the Hours apoise
      On dusk's deep daffodil.
                      13

 


             The Screech- Owl

                         III.

    Minstrel of moisture ! silent when high noon
      Shows her tanned face among the thirsting clover
    And parching meadows, thy tenebrious tune
      Wakes with the dew or when the rain is over.
      Thou troubadour of wetness and damp lover
    Of all cool things ! admitted comrade boon
      Of twilight's hush, and little intimate
      Of eve's first fluttering star and delicate
           Round rim of rainy moon!

                         IV.

    Art trumpeter of Dwarfland  does thy horn
      Inform the gnomes and goblins of the hour
    When they may gambol under haw and thorn,
      Straddling each winking web and twinkling flower 
      Or bell-ringer of Elfland  whose tall tower
    The liriodendron is  from whence is borne
      The elfin music of thy bell's deep bass,
      To summon fairies to their starlit maze,
          To summon them or warn.


                THE SCREECH-OWL.

W       PHEN, one by one, the stars have trembled through
         Eve's shadowy hues of violet, rose, and fire-
       As on a pansy-bloom the limpid dew
  Orbs its bright beads ;- and, one by one, the choir
  Of insects wakes on nodding bush and brier:
Then through the woods - where wandering winds pursue
  A ceaseless whisper -like an eery lyre
Struck in the Erl-king's halls, where ghosts and dreams
Hold revelry, your goblin music screams,
  Shivering and strange as some strange thought come true.
                          I4

 


The Chipmunk



Brown as the agaric that frills dead trees,
  Or those fantastic fungi of the woods
That crowd the dampness - are you kin to these
  In some mysterious way that still eludes
  My fancy  you, who haunt the solitudes
With witch-like wailings  voice, that seems to freeze
  Out of the darkness,- like the scent which broods,
Rank and rain-sodden, over autumn nooks,-
That, to the mind, might well suggest such looks,
  Ghastly and gray, as pale clairvoyance sees.

You people night with weirdness: lone and drear,
  Beneath the stars, you cry your wizard runes;
And in the haggard silence, filled with fear,
  Your shuddering hoot seems some bleak grief that croons
  Mockery and terror; or,- beneath the moon's
Cloud-hurrying glimmer,-to the startled ear,
  Crazed, madman snatches of old, perished tunes,
The witless wit of outcast Edgar there
In the wild night; or, wan with all despair,
  The mirthless laughter of the Fool in Lear.





                   THE CHIPMUNK.

      E makes a roadway of the crumbling fence,
          Or on the fallen tree,- brown as a leaf
        Fall stripes with russet,-gambols down the dense
Green twilight of the woods. We see not whence
  He comes, nor whither -'t is a time too brief -
He vanishes ;-- swift carrier of some Fay,
  Some pixy steed that haunts our child-belief-
A goblin glimpse from woodland way to way.



15

 

Love and a Day



What harlequin mood of nature qualified
  Him so with happiness  and limbed him with
Such young activity as winds, that ride
The ripples, have, that dance on every side 
  As sunbeams know, that urge the sap and pith
Through hearts of trees  yet made him to delight,
  Gnome-like, in darkness,- like a moonlight myth,-
Lairing in labyrinths of the under night.

Here, by a rock, beneath the moss, a hole
  Leads to his home, the den wherein he sleeps;
Lulled by near noises of the cautious mole
Tunnelling its mine - like some ungainly Troll -
  Or by the tireless cricket there that keeps
Picking its drowsy and monotonous lute;
  Or slower sounds of grass that creeps and creeps,
And trees unrolling mighty root on root.

Such is the music of his sleeping hours.
  Day bath another -'t is a melody
He trips to, made by the assembled flowers,
And light and fragrance laughing 'mid the bowers,
  And ripeness busy with the acorn-tree.
Such strains, perhaps, as filled with mute amaze-
  The silent music of Earth's ecstasy -
The Satyr's soul, the Faun of classic days.


                  LOVE AND A DAY.

                           I.
       I N girandoles of gladioles
            The day had kindled flame;
          And Heaven a door of gold and pearl
      Unclosed when Morning,- like a girl,
      A red rose twisted in a curl,-
        Down sapphire stairways came.
                          i6

 


Love and a Day



Said I to Love: " What must I do 
What shall I do  what can I do  "
Said I to Love:  " What must I do 
  All on a summer's morning."

Said Love to me:  " Go woo, go woo."
  Said Love to me:  " Go woo.
If she be milking, follow, 0!
And in the clover hollow, 0!
While through the dew the bells clang clear,
Just whisper it into her ear,
  All on a summer's morning."



                  II.

Of honey and heat and weed and wheat
  The day had made perfume;
And Heaven a tower of turquoise raised,
Whence Noon, like some wan woman, gazed-
A sunflower withering at her waist-
  Within a crystal room.

Said I to Love: " What must I do 
What shall I do  what can I do "
Said I to Love: " What must I do,
  All in the summer nooning  "

Said Love to me: " Go woo, go woo."
  Said Love to me:  " Go woo.
If she be 'mid the rakers, 0!
Among the harvest acres, 0
While every breeze brings scents of hay,
Just hold her hand and not take ' nay,'
  All in the summer nooning."



'7

 


Drouth



                          III.

      With song and sigh and cricket cry
         The day had mingled rest;
      And Heaven a casement opened wide
      Of opal, whence, like some young bride,
      The Twilight leaned, all starry-eyed,
         A moonflower on her breast.

      Said I to Love: " What must I do 
      What shall I do  what can I do "
      Said I to Love: " What must I do,
         All in the summer gloaming "

      Said Love to me:  "Go woo, go woo."
         Said Love to me: " Go woo.
      Go meet her at the trysting, 0
      And, 'spite of her resisting, 0
      Beneath the stars and afterglow,
      just clasp her close and kiss her so,
        All in the summer gloaming."




                      DROUTH.

                          I.

    HE hot sunflowers by the glaring pike
       Lift shields of sultry brass ; the teasel tops,
    Pink-thorned, advance with bristling spike on spike
  Against the furious sunlight. Field and copse
  Are sick with summer: now, with breathless stops,
The locusts cymbal; now grasshoppers beat
  Their castanets : and rolled in dust, a team,-
  Like some mean life wrapped in its sorry dream,-
An empty wagon rattles through the heat.
                          i8

 


Droulk



                           II.

Where now the blue, blue flags  the flow'rs whose mouths
  Are moist and musky  Where the sweet-breathed mint,
That made the brook-bank herby  Where the South's
  Wild morning-glories, rich in hues, that hint
  At coming showers that the rainbows tint 
Where all the blossoms that the wildwood knows  --
  The frail oxalis hidden in its leaves;
  The Indian-pipe, pale as a soul that grieves;
The freckled touch-me-not and forest-rose.


                          III.

Dead ! (lead ! all dead besides the drouth-burnt brook,
  Shrouded in moss or in the shriveled grass.
Where waved their bells,- from which the wild-bee shook
  The dew-drop once,-gaunt, in a nightmare mass,
  The rank weeds crowd; through which the cattle pass,
Thirsty and lean, seeking some meagre spring,
  Closed in with thorns, on which stray bits of wool
  The panting sheep have left, that sought the cool,
From morn till evening wearily wandering.


                          IV.

No bird is heard; no throat to whistle awake
  The sleepy hush; to let its music leak
Fresh, bubble-like, through bloom-roofs of the brake:
  Only the green-blue heron, famine weak,-
  Searching the stale pools of the minnowless creek,-
Utters its call; and then the rain-crow, too,
  False prophet now, croaks to the stagnant air;
  While overhead,- still as if painted there,-
A buzzard hangs, black on the burning blue.

                           '9

 

BEFORE THE RAIN.



BEFORE the rain, low in the obscure east,
       Weak and morose the moon hung, sickly gray
     Around its disc the storm mists, cracked and creased,
  Wove an enormous web, wherein it lay
  Like some white spider hungry for its prey.
Vindictive looked the scowling firmament,
  In which each star, that flashed a dagger ray,
Seemed filled with malice of some dark intent.

The marsh-frog croaked ; and underneath the stone
  The peevish cricket raised a creaking cry.
Within the world these sounds were heard alone,
  Save when the ruffian wind swept from the sky,
  Making each tree like some sad spirit sigh;
Or shook the clumsy beetle from its weed,
  That, in the drowsy darkness, bungling by,
Sharded the silence with its feverish speed.

Slowly the tempest gathered. Hours passed
  Before was heard the thunder's sullen drum
Rumbling night's hollow; and the Earth at last,
  Rest