Chapter I: Will Be True

I will be true. Mad stars forsake their courses, And, led by reckless meteors, turn away From paths appointed by Eternal Forces. But my fixed heart shall never go astray. Like those calm worlds, whose sun-directed motion Is undisturbed by strife of wind or sea, So shall my swerveless and serene devotion Sweep on forever, loyal unto thee.

I will be true. Light barks may be belated, Or turned aside by every breeze at play; While sturdy ships, well manned, and richly freighted, With broad sails flying, anchor safe in bay. Like some firm rock, that, steadfast and unshaken, Stands all unmoved, while ebbing billows flee, So would my heart stand, faithful if forsaken. I will be true, though thou art false to me.

THE FAREWELL.

'Tis not the untried soldier new to danger
Who fears to enter into active strife.
Amidst the roll of drums, the cannon's rattle,
He craves adventure, and thinks not of life.

But the scarred veteran knows the price of glory,
He does not court the conflict or the fray.
He has no longing to rehearse that gory
And most dramatic act, of war's dark play.

He who to love has always been a stranger
All unafraid may linger in your spell.
My heart has known the warfare, and its danger.
It craves no repetition--so farewell.

THE KINGDOM OF LOVE.

In the dawn of the day, when the sea and the earth
Reflected the sunrise above,
I set forth, with a heart full of courage and mirth,
To seek for the Kingdom of Love.
I asked of a Poet I met on the way,
Which cross-road would lead me aright.
And he said: "Follow me, and ere long you will see
Its glistening turrets of Light."

And soon in the distance a city shone fair; "Look yonder," he said, "there it gleams!" But alas! for the hopes that were doomed to despair, It was only the Kingdom of Dreams. Then the next man I asked was a gay cavalier, And he said: "Follow me, follow me," And with laughter and song we went speeding along By the shores of life's beautiful sea.

Till we came to a valley more tropical far,
Than the wonderful Vale of Cashmere.
And I saw from a bower a face like a flower,
Smile out on the gay cavalier.
And he said: "We have come to humanity's goal--
Here love and delight are intense."
But alas! and alas! for the hope of my soul--
It was only the kingdom of Sense--

As I journeyed more slowly, I met on the road
A coach with retainers behind,
And they said: "Follow us, for our lady's abode
Belongs in the realm you would find."
'Twas a grand dame of fashion, a newly-wed bride;
I followed, encouraged and bold.
But my hope died away, like the last gleams of day,
For we came to the Kingdom of Gold.

At the door of a cottage I asked a fair maid.
"I have heard of that Realm," she replied,
"But my feet never roam from the Kingdom of Home,
So I know not the way," and she sighed.
I looked on the cottage, how restful it seemed!
And the maid was as fair as a dove.
Great light glorified my soul as I cried,
"Why, home is the Kingdom of Love!"

LOVE WILL WANE.

When your love begins to wane,
Spare me from the cruel pain
Of all speech that tells me so--
Spare me words, for I shall know,

By the half-averted eyes,
By the breast that no more sighs,
By the rapture I shall miss
From your strangely-altered kiss;

By the arms that still enfold
But have lost their clinging hold,
And, too willing, let me go,
I shall know, love, I shall know.

Bitter will the knowledge be,
Bitterer than death to me.
Yet, 'twill come to me some day,
For it is the sad world's way.

Make no vows--vows cannot bind
Changing hearts or wayward mind.
Men grow weary of a bliss
Passionate and fond as this.

Love will wane. But I shall know,
If you do not tell me so.
Know it, tho' you smile and say
That you love me more each day.

Know it by the inner sight
That forever sees aright.
Words could but increase my woe,
And without them, I shall know.

THREE-FOLD.

Somewhere I've read a thoughtful mind's reflection:
"All perfect things are three-fold"; and I know
Our love has this rare symbol of perfection;
The brain's response, the warm blood's rapturous glow,
The soul's sweet language, silent and unspoken.
All these unite us with a deathless tie.
For when our frail, clay tenement is broken,
Our spirits will be lovers still, on high.

My dearest wish, you speak before I word it.
You understand the workings of my heart.
My soul's thought, breathed where only God has heard it,
You fathom with your strange divining art.
And like a fire, that cheers, and lights, and blesses,
And floods a mansion full of happy heat,
So does the subtle warmth of your caresses,
Pervade me with rapture, keen as sweet.

And so sometimes, as you and I together
Exult in all dear love's three-fold delights,
I cannot help but vaguely wonder whether
When our freed souls attain their spirit heights,
E'en if we reach that upper realm where God is,
And find the tales of heavenly glory true,
I wonder if we shall not miss our bodies,
And long, at times, for hours on earth we knew.

As now, we sometimes pray to leave our prison
And soar beyond all physical demands,
So may we not sigh, when we have arisen,
For just one old-time touch of lips and hands?
I know, dear heart, a thought like this seems daring
Concerning God's vast Government above,
Yet, even _There_, I shrink from wholly sparing
One element, from this, our Three-fold Love.

A MAIDEN'S SECRET.

I have written this day down in my heart
As the sweetest day in the season;
From all of the others I've set it apart--
But I will not tell you the reason.
That is my secret--I must not tell;
But the skies are soft and tender,
And never before, I know full well,
Was the earth so full of splendor.

I sing at my labor the whole day long,
And my heart is as light as a feather;
And there is a reason for my glad song
Besides the beautiful weather.
But I will not tell it to you; and though
That thrush in the maple heard it,
And would shout it aloud if he could, I know
He hasn't the power to word it.

Up, where I was sewing, this morn came one
Who told me the sweetest stories,
He said I had stolen my hair from the sun,
And my eyes from the morning glories.
Grandmother says that I must not believe
A word men say, for they flatter;
But I'm sure he would never try to deceive
For he told me--but there--no matter!

Last night I was sad, and the world to me
Seemed a lonely and dreary dwelling,
But some one then had not asked me to be--
There now! I am almost telling.
Not another word shall my two lips say,
I will shut them fast together,
And never a mortal shall know to-day
Why my heart is as light as a feather.

LINES FROM "MAURINE."

It was a way of Helen's not to sing The songs that other people sang; she took Sometimes an extract from an olden book-- Again some floating, fragmentary thing, And these she fitted to old melodies, Or else composed the music. One of these She sang that night; and Vivian caught the strain. And joined her in the chorus or refrain:

O thou, mine other stronger part, Whom yet I cannot hear or see, Come thou and take this loving heart, That longs to yield its all to thee. I call mine own, O come to me-- Love, answer back, "I come to thee, I come to thee!"

This hungry heart, so warm, so large Is far too great a care for me. I have grown weary of the charge I keep so sacredly for thee. Come, then, and take my heart from me-- Love, answer back, "I come to thee, I come to thee."

I am a'weary waiting here
For one who tarries long from me.
O, art thou far, or art thou near,
And must I still be sad for thee?
Love, answer, "I am near to thee,
I am come to thee!"

ART AND LOVE.

For many long uninterrupted years She was the friend and confidant of Art; They walked together, heart communed with heart In that sweet comradeship that so endears. Her fondest hopes, her sorrows and her fears She told her mate; who would in turn impart Important truths and secrets. But a dart, Shot by that unskilled, mischievous boy, who peers From ambush on us, struck one day her breast, And Love sprang forth to kiss away her tears. She thought his brow shone with a wondrous grace; But, when she turned to introduce her guest To Art, behold, she found an empty place, The goddess fled, with sad, averted face.

ONE WOMAN'S HISTORY. "The maiden free, the maiden wed. Can never, never be the same, A new life springs from out the dead And with the speaking of a name-- A breath upon the marriage bed, She finds herself a something new.

"Where lay the shallows of the maid No plummet line the wife can sound; Where round the sunny islands played The pulses of the great profound Lies low the treacherous everglade.

"A wife is like an unknown sea, Least known to him who thinks he knows Where all the shores of Promise be, And where the islands of Repose-- And where the rocks that he must flee."

WHY THE SPRING IS LATE.

To Miss Eva Russell.

The spring time is deaf to our pleading,
The meadows are brown as can be.
The hilltops are bleak and unlovely,
No thrush sits and sings on the tree.
I hear many practical people
Explain why the spring loiters so,
But, dear one, they all are mistaken:
The true reason I alone know.

The South-wind, Spring's hand-maiden, told me
Her mistress declared, o'er and o'er,
That, till you were here to give greeting,
She'd visit our prairies no more.
And all her vast household stand by her!
The thrush says he cannot come here
And sing the old songs that you loved so,
Unless you are lingering near.

The wild pinks that rival your blushes,
The violets blue as the sky,
Declare it no pleasure to blossom
Unseen by your beautiful eye.
Oh darling! I'm loath to upbraid you,
So come without further delay.
Each moment you linger, remember
You are keeping the spring time away.
Then come! we are waiting to welcome
The birds and the flowers, 'tis true;
But warmer than all is the welcome,
Fair girl, that is waiting for you.

RIVER AND SEA.

Under the light of the silver moon, We two sat, when our hearts were young; The night was warm with the breath of June, And loud from the meadow the cricket sung, And darker and deeper, oh love, than the sea, Were your dear eyes, as they beamed on me.

The moon hung clear, and the night was still; The waters reflected the glittering skies; The nightingale sang on the distant hill; But sweeter than all was the light in your eyes-- Your dear, dark eyes, your eyes like the sea-- And up from the depths shone love for me.

My heart, like a river, was mad and wild-- And a river is not deep, like the sea; But I said your love was the love of a child, Compared with the love that was felt by me; A river leaps noisily, kissing the land, But the sea is fathomless, deep and grand.

I vowed to love you, for ever and ever; I called you cold, on that night in June, But my fierce love, like a reckless river Dashed oh, and away, and was spent too soon; While yours--ah, yours was deep like the sea; I cheated you, love, but you died for me!

LOVE.

In all earth's music, grand, or sweet, or strong, To hear one name, as if 'twere set in song.

In all my poems, written 'neath the sun, To find the praises, o'er and o'er, in one.

To feel thyself a lesser part of what Hadst thou not found, the earth would be as naught.

To think all beauty, perfectness and grace, As but the shadow of one worshiped face.

With that face's coming, to bask in warmth and light And with its going to grope, as in the night.

To rather feel a dear hand's stinging blow Than any caress another might bestow.

To rather sit in gloom, and hear one voice Than, missing that, on mountain tops rejoice.

To lose all individual hope and aim, And have no wish, but for another's fame.

To count grief naught, though great, if one is glad. To feel no joy if that dear one is sad.

Do thy heart strings, responsive, answer this? Then thou hast known true love in all its bliss.

IN THE GARDEN.

One moment alone in the garden,
Under the August skies;
The moon had gone but the stars shone on,--
Shone like your beautiful eyes.
Away from the glitter and gaslight,
Alone in the garden there,
While the mirth of the throng, in laugh and song,
Floated out on the air.

You looked down through the starlight,
And I looked up at you;
And a feeling came that I could not name,--
Something strange and new.
Friends of a few weeks only,--
Why should it give me pain
To know you would go on the morrow,
And would not come again?

Formal friends of a season,
What matter that we must part?
But under the skies, with a swift surprise,
Each read the other's heart.
We did not speak, but your breath on my cheek
Was like a breeze of the south;
And your dark hair brushed my forehead
And your kiss fell on my mouth.

Some one was searching for me,--
Some one to say good-night;
And we went in from the garden,
Out of the sweet starlight,
Back to the glitter and music,
And we said "Good-bye" in the hall,
When a dozen heard and echoed the word,
And then--well, that was all.

The river that rolls between us
Can never be crossed, I know,
For the waters are deep and the shores are steep,
And a maelstrom whirls below;
But I think we shall always remember,
Though we both may strive to forget,
How you looked in my eyes, 'neath the August skies,
After the moon had set;--

How you kissed my lips in the garden,
And we stood in a trance of bliss,
And our hearts seemed speaking together
In that one thrilling kiss.

WHEN YOU GO AWAY.

When you go away, my friend,
When we say our last good-bye,
Then the summer time will end,
And the winter will be nigh.

Though the green grass decks the heather,
And the birds sing all the day,
There will be no summer weather,
After you have gone away.

When I look into your eyes,
I shall thrill with sharpest pain;
Thinking that beneath the skies,
I may never look again.

You will feel a moment's sorrow--
I shall feel a lasting grief;
You forgetting on the morrow--
I, to mourn with no relief

When we say the last, sad words,
And you are no longer near,
All the winds, and all the birds,
Can not keep the summer here.

Life will lose its full completeness,
Lose it, not for you, but me;
All the beauty and the sweetness
Earth can hold, I shall not see.

LINES ON H--'S FOOT.

It may be you've seen her eyes, Dark and deep like midnight skies; You mayhap have seen them flash Underneath the drooping lash, And been dazzled by the light Of those orbs, so dark and bright; But-have you seen her foot, In its little gaiter boot?

You have noticed, maybe, how The lily spreads from chin to brow. You have thought her cheek more fair Than if roses lingered there; (Roses would seem out of place On her pale patrician face) But--again I question you, Have you seen her tiny shoe?

You have thought her mouth, no doubt, Like a blush-rose half blown out; Small and sweet, withal, beside, Touched with scorn and curved with pride; (Innate pride-not meant to chill)-- You have seen it there, and still-- Answer one more question, pray-- Have you seen her boot? I say.

Such a tiny, tiny thing, Is that foot of which I sing; No. 3 would hide it so It could not be found, I know. No. 2 must stand aside All too long and large and wide, No. 1 _must_ be the boot For this maiden's little foot.

You may envy, sir, the clerk In the shoe-store, hard at work, Who tries the gaiter boot On this cunning little foot. On his knee, supporting it, Saying, "It's a perfect fit," Buttoning on the No. 1, Looking sorry, when it's done.

You have seen her, slight and neat, As she tripped along the street, You have _heard_ the pit-pat-fall Of that foot so very small. That she's fair, and pure, and good, Bright, and sweet is understood, But--have you seen that foot-- In its dainty gaiter boot?

A BABY IN THE HOUSE.

I knew that a baby was hid in that house, Though I saw no cradle, and heard no cry, But the husband went tip-toeing 'round like a mouse, And the good wife was humming a soft lullaby; And there was a look on the face of that mother That I knew could mean only one thing, and no other.

The mother, I said to myself; for I knew That the woman before me was certainly that, For there lay in the corner a tiny cloth shoe, And I saw on a stand such a wee little hat; And the beard of the husband said plain as could be, "Two fat, chubby hands have been tugging at me."

And he took from his pocket a gay picture book, And a dog that would bark if you pulled on a string; And the wife laid them up with such a pleased look; And I said to myself, "There is no other thing But a babe that could bring about all this, and so That one is in hiding here somewhere, I know."

I stayed but a moment, and saw nothing more, And heard not a sound, yet I know I was right; What else could the shoe mean that lay on the floor-- The book and the toy, and the faces so bright? And what made the husband as still as a mouse? I am sure, very sure, there's a babe in that house.

RESIGNED.

My babe was moaning in its sleep, I leaned and kissed it where it lay, My pain was such I could not weep, Oh, would God take my child away? He had so many round his throne-- If He took mine--I stood alone!

I took my child upon my knee; It looked up with its father's eyes, Who, ere the infant came to me, Had journeyed homeward to the skies, But through These eyes, so sad and mild, I found my husband, in my child.

It was such comfort, night and day, To watch its slumber,--feel its breath-- And slow--so slow--it pined away, I heard not the approach of Death Until he stood close at my side, And then my soul within me died.

I clasped my babe with sudden moan, I cried, "My sweet, thou shalt not go To join the children round the Throne, For I have need of thee below. If God takes thee, I am bereft-- No hope or joy or comfort left."

My babe looked pleading in my face, It seemed my husband's eyes instead, And his voice sounded in the place, "I want my child in heaven," it said. The infant raised its little hands, And seemed to reach toward heavenly lands.

The tears that had refused to flow Came welling upward from my heart, I sobbed, "My child, then thou may'st go, Thy angel father bids us part. I know in all that heavenly place He ne'er looked on so sweet a face.

"He journeyed on, before thou came-- And all these months, he's longed for thee, How could I so forget his claim-- And strive to keep thee at my knee. Go, child--my child--and give him this-- In one the wife's and mother's kiss."

My baby smiled, and seeming slept, Its hand grew cold within my own. Not wholly sad the tears I wept For though I was indeed alone My babe I knew was safe at rest. Upon its angel father's breast.

IN FAITH.

When the soft sweet wind o' the south went by, I dwelt in the light of a dark brown eye; And out where the robin sang his song, We lived and loved, while the days were long.

In the sweet, sweet eves, when the moon swung high, We wandered under the starry sky; Or sat in the porch, and the moon looked through The latticed wall, where the roses grew.

My lips, that had known no lover's kiss, You taught the art, till they thrilled in bliss; And the moon, and the stars, and the roses knew That the heart you won was pure and true.

But true hearts weary men, maybe, For you grew weary of love, and me. Over the porch the dead vines hang, And a mourning dove sobs where the robin sang.

In a warmer clime does another sigh Under the light of your dark brown eye? Did you follow the soft sweet wind o' the south And are you kissing a redder mouth?

Lips may be redder, and eyes more bright; The face may be fairer you see to-night; But never, love, while the stars shall shine; Will you find a heart that is truer than mine.

Sometime, perhaps, when south winds blow, You will think of a love you used to know; Sometime, perhaps, when a robin sings, Your heart will go back to olden things.

Sometime you will weary of this world's arts, Of deceit and change and hollow hearts, And, wearying, sigh for the "used to be," And your feet will turn to the porch, and me.

I shall watch for you here when days grow long; I shall list for your step through the robin's song; I shall sit in the porch where the moon looks through, And a vacant chair will wait--for you.

You may stray, and forget, and rove afar, But my changeless love, like the polar star, Will draw you at length o'er land and sea-- And I know you will yet come back to me.

The years may come, and the years may go, But sometime again, when south winds blow, When roses bloom, and the moon swings high, I shall live in the light of your dark brown eye.