Thoughts, Moods and Ideals: Crimes of Leisure Part 5

TO CYBEL DEAR.

LOVE-SONG.

Though others plight for pride or gain, And mix the cup of love; Theirs be the duller troth, the stain; Ours the sweet stars approve.

My riches, love, they shall be thou; My pride, thy love for me: No diamond fairer decks a brow Than thine sincerity.

Though ours be tenements, not towers, Theirs, lawns and halls of ease, Beloved, 'tis heaven, not gold, is ours, And the realities.

No sordid wish doth make us one, But love, love, love.

O surely, surely, that is done Which the sweet stars approve.

THE STILL TRYST.

How love transcends our mortal sphere, And sees again the spirit-world, Forgot so daily. Thou art here;-- I know thee, sweet--though fair impearled Thy face in a far atmosphere To others,--hearing in the sea My love a-crying up to thee.

Thou by the surf, I on the lake:-- Yet in the _real_ world we meet; And O, for thy endeared sake, Love, all I am is at thy feet.

With thy life let me breathing take, And through all nature do thou see My love a-crying up to thee.

And with thine eyes shall I pursue Yon shower-veils from the sunset flying, Blown mid clouds white and lurid-blue That crowd the rainbow's arch, defying Him who in red death shoots them through.

Look with me; in this pageant see My love all glowing up to thee.

See what I see, hear what I hear, I too am with thee by the wave-- One all the day, the hour, the year: Our trust of love shall be so brave, We shall deny that death is here Or any power in the grave.

I know thee; thou canst love like this; Be ours the endless spirit-kiss.

Dusk falls. How purely shines that star, Concealed while day was in the sky; Life, love and thou not mortal are, Though atheist noon your world deny.

Dusk falls:--though in the west a bar Of bloom on evening's pure cheek be; In beauty thy love cries to me.

THE CHICKIEBIDS.

The chickiebids are in their nest Overhead,-- Dimpled shapes of rosy rest Curled a-bed.

Night has sung her spell, and thrown Her dark net round Their heads; their pearly ears have grown Deaf to all other sound.

O of me how you are part, Babies mine!

Your hearts are children of my heart.

The inner sign Of my eyes lurks in your eyes, And your soul, That so brims with Paradise, Stirs what wonders roll Unsuspected in myself, Who had thought Life half death, till childhood's elf-- Sign of angels men shall be-- Came and taught A youth eterne within futurity.

THE CAUGHNAWAGA BEADWORK SELLER.

Kanawaki--"By the Rapid,"-- Low the sunset midst thee lies; And from the wild Reservation Evening's breeze begins to rise.

Faint the Konoronkwa chorus Drifts across the current strong; Spirit-like the parish steeple Stands thy ancient walls among.

Kanawaki--"By the Rapid,"-- How the sun amidst thee burns!

Village of the Praying Nation, Thy dark child to thee returns.

All day through the pale-face city, Silent, selling beaded wares, I have wandered with my basket, Lone, excepting for their stares!

They are white men; we are Indians; What a gulf their stares proclaim!

They are mounting; we are dying; All our heritage they claim.

We are dying, dwindling, dying, Strait and smaller grows our bound; They are mounting up to heaven And are pressing all around.

_Thou_ art ours,--little remnant, Ours through countless thousand years-- Part of the old Indian world, Thy breath from far the Indian cheers.

Back to thee, O Kanawaki!

Let the rapids dash between Indian homes and white men's manners-- Kanawaki and Lachine!

O my dear!--O Knife-and-Arrows!

Thou art bronzed, thy limbs are lithe; How I laugh as through the crosse-game, Slipst thou like red elder withe.

Thou art none of these pale-faces!

When with thee I'll happy feel, For thou art the Mohawk warrior From thy scalp-lock to thy heel.

Sweet the Konoronkwa chorus Floats across the current strong; Clear behold the parish steeple Rise the ancient walls among.

Speed us deftly, noiseless paddle: In my shawl my bosom burns!

Kanawaki--"By the Rapid,"-- Thine own child to thee returns.

MONTREAL.

Reign on, majestic Ville Marie!

Spread wide thine ample robes of state; The heralds cry that thou art great, And proud are thy young sons of thee.

Mistress of half a continent, Thou risest from thy girlhood's rest; We see thee conscious heave thy breast And feel thy rank and thy descent.

Sprung of the saint and chevalier!

And with the Scarlet Tunic wed!

Mount Royal's crown upon thy head, And--past thy footstool--broad and clear St. Lawrence sweeping to the sea; Reign on, majestic Ville Marie!

ALL HAIL TO A NIGHT.

All hail to a night when the stars stand bright Like gold dust in the sky; With a crisp track long, and an old time song, And the old time company.

_Cho._--All hail to a night when the Northern Light A welcome to us waves, Then the snowsh.o.e.r goes o'er the ice and the snows, And the frosty tempest braves.

The snowsh.o.e.r's tent is the firmament; His breath the rush of the breeze.

Earth's loveliest sprite, the frost queen at night, Lures him silvery through the trees.

Yes, the snowsh.o.e.r's queen is winter serene, We meet her in the glade.

Dark-blue-eyed, a fair, pale bride, In her jewelled veil arrayed.

Let us up then and toast to the uttermost Fair winter! we knights of the shoe, And in circle again join hearts with the men That of old time toasted her too.

THE PIONEERS.