The Feast of the Virgins and Other Poems Part 31

Nay, there were cares and cankers--envy and hunger and hate; Death and disease in the pith of the limbs, in the root and the bud and the branch; Dry-rot, alas, at the heart, and a canker-worm gnawing therein.

The summer of life came on with its heat and its struggle and toil, Sweat of the brow and the soul, throbbing of muscle and brain, Toil and moil and grapple with Fortune clutched as she flew-- Only a shred of her robe, and a brave heart baffled and bowed!

Stern-visaged Fate with a hand of iron uplifted to fell; The secret stab of a friend that stung like the sting of an asp, Wringing red drops from the soul and a stifled moan of despair; The loose lips of gossip and then--a storm of slander and lies, Till Justice was blind as a bat and deaf to the cries of the just, And Mercy, wrapped up in her robe, stood by like a statue in stone.

Sear autumn followed the summer with frost and the falling of leaves And red-ripe apples that blushed on the hills in the orchard of peace: Red-ripe apples, alas, with worms writhing down to the core, Apples of ashes and fungus that fell into rot at a touch; Cl.u.s.ters of grapes in the garden blighted and sour on the vines; Wheat-fields that waved in the valley and promised a harvest of gold, Thrashing but chaff and weevil or c.o.c.kle and shriveled cheat.

Fair was the promise of spring-time; the harvest a harvest of lies: Fair was the promise of summer with Fortune clutched by the robe; Fair was the promise of autumn--a hollow harlot in red, A withered rose at her girdle and the thorns of the rose in her hand.

Down into the darkness at last, Daniel,--down into the darkness at last; Laid in the lap of our Mother, Daniel, sleeping the dreamless sleep-- Sleeping the sleep of the babe unborn--the pure and the perfect rest: Aye, and is it not better than this fitful fever and pain?

Aye, and is it not better, if only the dead soul knew?

Dead Ashes, what do you care if it storm, if it shine, if it shower?

Hail-storm, tornado or tempest, or the blinding blizzard of snow, Or the mid-May showers on the blossoms with the glad sun blinking between, Dead Ashes, what do you care?--they break not the sleep of the dead.

Proud stands the ship to the sea, fair breezes belly her sails; Strong masted, stanch in her shrouds, stanch in her beams and her bones; Bound for Hesperian isles--for the isles of the plantain and palm, Hope walks her deck with a smile and Confidence stands at the helm; Proudly she turns to the sea and walks like a queen on the waves.

Caught in the grasp of the tempest, lashed by the fiends of the storm, Torn into shreds are her sails, tumbled her masts to the main; Rudderless, rolling she drives and groans in the grasp of the sea; Harbor or hope there is none; she goes to her grave in the brine: Dead in the fathomless slime lie the bones of the ship and her crew.

Such was the promise of life; so is the promise fulfilled.

Down into the darkness at last, Daniel,--down into the darkness at last; Laid in the lap of our Mother, Daniel,--sleeping the dreamless sleep,-- Sleeping the sleep of the babe unborn--the pure and the perfect rest: Aye, and is it not better than this fitful fever and pain?

Aye, and is it not better, if only the dead soul knew?

Over your grave the tempest may roar or the zephyr sigh; Over your grave the blue-bells may blink or the snow-drifts whirl,-- Dead Ashes, what do you care?--they break not the sleep of the dead.

They that were friends may mourn, they that were friends may praise; They that knew you and yet--knew you never--may cavil and blame; They that were foes in disguise may strike at you down in the grave; Slander, the scavenger-buzzard--may vomit her lies on you there; Dead Ashes, what do you care?--they break not the sleep of the dead.

The hoa.r.s.e, low voice of the years croaks on forever-and-aye: _Change! Change! Change_! and the winters wax and wane.

The old oak dies in the forest; the acorn sprouts at its feet; The sea gnaws on at the land; the continent crowds on the sea.

Bound to the Ixion wheel with brazen fetters of fate Man rises up from the dust and falls to the dust again.

G.o.d washes our eyes with tears, and still they are blinded with dust: We grope in the dark and marvel, and pray to the Power unknown-- Crying for help to the desert: not even an echo replies.

Doomed unto death like the moon, like the midget that men call man, Wrinkled with age and agony the old Earth rolls her rounds; Shrinking and shuddering she rolls--an atom in G.o.d's great sea-- Only an atom of dust in the infinite ocean of s.p.a.ce.

What to him are the years who sleeps in her bosom there?

What to him is the cry wrung out of the souls of men?

_Change, Change, Change_, and the sea gnaws on at the land: Dead Ashes, what do you care?--it breaks not the sleep of the dead.

Down into the darkness at last, Daniel,--down into the darkness at last; Laid in the lap of our Mother, Daniel,--sleeping the dreamless sleep,-- Sleeping the sleep of the babe unborn--the pure and the perfect rest: Aye, and is it not better than this fitful fever and pain?

Aye, and is it not better if only the dead soul knew?

Up--out of the darkness at last, Daniel,--out of the darkness at last; Into the light of the life eternal--into the sunlight of G.o.d, Singing the song of the soul immortal freed from the fetters of flesh: Aye, and is it not better than this fitful fever and pain?

Aye, and is it not better than sleeping the dreamless sleep?

Hark! from the reel of the spheres eternal the freed soul answereth "_Aye_."

Aye--Aye--Aye--it is better, brothers, if it be but the dream of the famished soul.

MINNETONKA[BY]

[BY] The Dakota name for this beautiful lake is _We-ne-a-tan-ka_--Broad Water. By dropping the "a" before "tanka" we have changed the name to _Big Water_.

I sit once more on breezy sh.o.r.e, at sunset in this glorious June, I hear the dip of gleaming oar, I list the singers' merry tune.

Beneath my feet the waters beat, and ripple on the polished stones, The squirrel chatters from his seat; the bag-pipe beetle hums and drones.

The pink and gold in blooming wold,--the green hills mirrored in the lake!

The deep, blue waters, zephyr-rolled, along the murmuring pebbles break.

The maples screen the ferns, and lean the leafy lindens o'er the deep; The sapphire, set in emerald green, lies like an Orient gem asleep.

The crimson west glows like the breast of _Rhuddin_[CA] when he pipes in May, As downward droops the sun to rest, and shadows gather on the bay.

In amber sky the swallows fly and sail and circle o'er the deep; The light-winged night-hawks whir and cry; the silver pike and salmon leap.

The rising moon, o'er isle and dune, looks laughing down on lake and lea; Weird o'er the waters shrills the loon; the high stars twinkle in the sea.

From bank and hill the whippowil sends piping forth his flute-like notes, And clear and shrill the answers trill from leafy isles and silver throats.

The twinkling light on cape and height; the hum of voices on the sh.o.r.es; The merry laughter on the night; the dip and plash of frolic oars,-- These tell the tale. On hill and dale the cities pour their gay and fair; Along the sapphire lake they sail, and quaff like wine the balmy air.

'Tis well. Of yore from isle and sh.o.r.e the smoke of Indian _teepees_[CB] rose; The hunter plied the silent oar; the forest lay in still repose.

The moon-faced maid, in leafy glade, her warrior waited from the chase; The nut-brown, naked children played, and chased the gopher on the gra.s.s.

The dappled fawn on wooded lawn, peeped out upon the birch canoe, Swift-gliding in the gray of dawn along the silent waters blue.

In yonder tree the great Wanm-dee[CC] securely built her s.p.a.cious nest; The blast that swept the landlocked sea[CD]

but rocked her clamorous babes to rest.

By gra.s.sy mere the elk and deer gazed on the hunter as he came; Nor fled with fear from bow or spear;-- "so wild were they that they were tame."

Ah, birch canoe, and hunter, too, have long forsaken lake and sh.o.r.e; He bade his fathers' bones adieu and turned away forevermore.

But still, methinks, on dusky brinks the spirit of the warrior moves; At crystal springs the hunter drinks, and nightly haunts the spot he loves.

For oft at night I see the light of lodge-fires on the shadowy sh.o.r.es, And hear the wail some maiden's sprite above her slaughtered warrior pours.

I hear the sob, on Spirit k.n.o.b,[BZ] of Indian mother o'er her child; And on the midnight waters throb her low _yun-he-he's_[CE] weird and wild: And sometimes, too, the light canoe glides like a shadow o'er the deep At midnight when the moon is low, and all the sh.o.r.es are hushed in sleep.

Alas,--Alas!--for all things pa.s.s; and we shall vanish too, as they; We build our monuments of bra.s.s, and granite, but they waste away.

[BZ] Spirit-k.n.o.b was a small hill upon a point in the lake in full view from Wayzata. It is now washed away by the waves. The spirit of a Dakota mother, whose only child was drowned in the lake during a storm many years ago, often wailed at midnight (so the Dakotas said), on this hill.

So they called it _Wa-na-gee Pa-zo-dan_--Spirit-k.n.o.b. (Literally--little hill of the spirit.)

[CA] The Welsh name for the robin.

[Ill.u.s.tration: CRYSTAL BAY LAKE MINNETONKA]

[CB] Lodges.

[CC] Wanm-dee--the war-eagle of the Dakotas.

[CD] Lake Superior.

[CE] p.r.o.nounced _Yoon-hay-hay_--the exclamation used by Dakota women in their lament for the dead, and equivalent to "woe-is-me."

BEYOND

White-haired and h.o.a.ry-bearded, who art thou That speedest on, albeit bent with age, Even as a youth that followeth after dreams?

Whence are thy feet, and whither trends thy way?

Stayed not his hurried steps, but as he pa.s.sed His low, hoa.r.s.e answer fell upon the wind: "Go thou and question yonder mountain-peaks; Go thou and ask the h.o.a.ry-heaving main;-- Nay, if thou wilt, the great, globed, silent stars That sail innumerable the sh.o.r.eless sea, And let the eldest answer if he may.

Lo the unnumbered myriad, myriad worlds Rolling around innumerable suns, Through all the boundless, bottomless abyss, Are but as grains of sand upwhirled and flung By roaring winds and scattered on the sea.

I have beheld them and my hand hath sown.

"Far-twinkling faint through dim, immeasured depths, Behold Alcyone--a grander sun.

Round him thy solar orb with all his brood Glimmering revolves. Lo from yon mightier sphere Light, flying faster than the thoughts of men, Swift as the lightnings cleave the glowering storm, Shot on and on through dim, ethereal s.p.a.ce, Ere yet it touched thy little orb of Earth, Five hundred cycles of thy world and more.

Round him thy Sun, obedient to his power, Thrice tenfold swifter than the swiftest wing, His aeon-orbit, million-yeared and vast, Wheels through the void. Him flaming I beheld When first he flashed from out his central fire-- A mightier orb beyond thine utmost ken.

Round upon round innumerable hath swung Thy sun upon his circuit; grander still His vaster orbit far Alcyone Wheels and obeys the mightier orb unseen.

"Seest thou yon star-paved pathway like an arch Athwart thy welkin?--wondrous zone of stars, Dim in the distance circling one huge sun, To whom thy sun is but a spark of fire-- To whom thine Earth is but a grain of dust: Glimmering around him myriad suns revolve And worlds innumerable as sea-beach sands.