Music, and Other Poems Part 5

LOVE'S NEARNESS

I think of thee, when golden sunbeams shimmer Across the sea; And when the waves reflect the moon's pale glimmer, I think of thee.

I see thy form, when down the distant highway The dust-clouds rise; In deepest night, above the mountain by-way, I see thine eyes.

I hear thee when the ocean-tides returning Loudly rejoice; And on the lonely moor, in stillness yearning, I hear thy voice.

I dwell with thee: though thou art far removed, Yet art thou near.

The sun goes down, the stars shine out,-- Beloved, Ah, wert thou here!

From Goethe: "Nahe des Geliebten."

TWO SCHOOLS

I put my heart to school In the world, where men grow wise, "Go out," I said, "and learn the rule; "Come back when you win a prize."

My heart came back again: "Now where is the prize?" I cried.-- "The rule was false, and the prize was pain, "And the teacher's name was Pride."

I put my heart to school In the woods, where veeries sing, And brooks run cool and clear; In the fields, where wild flowers spring, And the blue of heaven bends near.

"Go out," I said: "you are half a fool, "But perhaps they can teach you here."

"And why do you stay so long, "My heart, and where do you roam?"

The answer came with a laugh and a song,-- "I find this school is home."

April, 1901.

A PRAYER FOR A MOTHER'S BIRTHDAY

Lord Jesus, Thou hast known A mother's love and tender care: And Thou wilt hear, while for my own Mother most dear I make this birthday prayer.

Protect her life, I pray, Who gave the gift of life to me; And may she know, from day to day, The deepening glow of Life that comes from Thee.

As once upon her breast Fearless and well content I lay, So let her heart, on Thee at rest, Feel fears depart and troubles fade away.

Her every wish fulfill; And even if Thou must refuse In anything, let Thy wise will A comfort bring such as kind mothers use.

Ah, hold her by the hand, As once her hand held mine; And though she may not understand Life's winding way, lead her in peace divine.

I cannot pay my debt For all the love that she has given; But Thou, love's Lord, wilt not forget Her due reward,--bless her in earth and heaven.

July, 1903.

INDIAN SUMMER

A soft veil dims the tender skies, And half conceals from pensive eyes The bronzing tokens of the fall; A calmness broods upon the hills, And summer's parting dream distills A charm of silence over all.

The stacks of corn, in brown array, Stand waiting through the placid day, Like tattered wigwams on the plain; The tribes that find a shelter there Are phantom peoples, forms of air, And ghosts of vanished joy and pain.

At evening when the crimson crest Of sunset pa.s.ses down the West, I hear the whispering host returning; On far-off fields, by elm and oak, I see the lights, I smell the smoke,-- The Camp-fires of the Past are burning.

Tertius and Henry Van d.y.k.e.

November, 1903.

ONE WORLD

"The worlds in which we live are two The world 'I am' and the world 'I do.'"

The worlds in which we live at heart are one, The world "I am," the fruit of "I have done"; And underneath these worlds of flower and fruit, The world "I love,"--the only living root.

HIDE AND SEEK

I

All the trees are sleeping, all the winds are still, All the flocks of fleecy clouds have wandered past the hill; Through the noonday silence, down the woods of June, Hark, a little hunter's voice comes running with a tune.

"Hide and seek!

"When I speak, "You must answer me: "Call again, "Merry men, "Coo-ee, coo-ee, coo-ee!"

Now I hear his footsteps, rustling through the gra.s.s: Hidden in my leafy nook, shall I let him pa.s.s?

Just a low, soft whistle,--quick the hunter turns, Leaps upon me laughing, rolls me in the ferns.

"Hold him fast, "Caught at last!

"Now you're it, you see.

"Hide your eye, "Till I cry, "Coo-ee, coo-ee, coo-ee!"

II

Long ago he left me, long and long ago: Now I wander through the world and seek him high and low; Hidden safe and happy, in some pleasant place,-- Ah, if I could hear his voice, I soon should find his face.

Far away, Many a day, Where can Barney be?

Answer, dear, Don't you hear?

Coo-ee, coo-ee, coo-ee!

Birds that in the spring-time thrilled his heart with joy, Flowers he loved to pick for me, mind me of my boy.

Surely he is waiting till my steps come nigh; Love may hide itself awhile, but love can never die.