THE SEARCH No one could tell me where my Soul might I searched for God, but God eluded me. THE SOUL OF THE WORLD THE Soul of the world is abroad to-nightNot in yon silvery amalgam of moonbeam and ocean, nor in the pink heat-lightning tremulous on the horizon; Not in the embrace of yonder pair of lovers either, heart beating to heart in the but at best it is a pale reflection of the truth. I am not to be put off with symbols, for the soul of the world is itself abroad to-night. I neither see nor hear nor smell nor taste nor touch it, but faintly I feel it powerfully stirring. I feel it as the blind heaving sea feels the moon bending over it. I feel it as the needle feels the serpentine magnetic current coiling itself about the earth. I open my arms to embrace it as the lovers embrace each other, but my embrace is all inclusive. shadow of the fishing-smack drawn My heart beats to heart likewise, but it is up on the beach. All that shall I call it illusion? Nay, to the heart universal, for the soul of the world is abroad to-night. And those who mourned her winsome face Found in its stead a swift successor And loved another in her place All, save the silent old professor. But, in the tender twilight gray, Shut from the sight of carping critic, His lonely thoughts would often stray From Vedic verse and tongues Semitic, Bidding the ghost of vanished hope Mock with its past the sad possessor sor. WONDERLAND SWEET eyes by sorrow still unwet, I turn and watch with unshed tears The Right defiled, the Wrong enthroned, A little time, then by and by To blurring brain and weary limb, And fast the gathering shadows creep THE OTHER ONE SWEET little maid with winsome eyes That laugh all day through the tangled hair; Gazing with baby looks so wise Here where the firelight softly glows, Sheltered and safe and snug and warm, What to you is the wind that blows, Driving the sleet of the winter storm ? Round your head the ruddy light Glints on the gold from your tresses After all Over the shimmering slabs he goes Hark! from the heights the clear, strong, Every grave in the dark he knows; Stand forth and be As one on soil and sea But his nest is hidden from human eye Where headstones broken on old graves lie. Wary still! For they plot him ill; For the graveyard rabbit, though sceptics scoff, Your country's honor more than empire's Charmeth the witch and the wizard off! worth!" ALAS! that men must see Love, before Death! Else they content might be With their short breath; Aye, glad, when the pale sun Showed restless Day was done, And endless Rest begun. Glad, when with strong, cool hand Death clasped their own, And with a strange command Hushed every moan; Glad to have finished pain, And labor wrought in vain, Blurred by Sin's deepening stain. But Love's insistent voice Bids Self to flee- So, for Love's cruel mind, SENT WITH A ROSE TO A DEEP in a Rose's glowing heart And then I bade it quick depart, "The love thy Lover tried to send O'erflows my fragrant bowl, But my soft leaves would break and bend, Should he send half the whole !" THE CLOVER O RUDDY Lover— O brave red Clover! She will not love thee, The Daisy's gold doth move her more. If gold can win her, Then Love's not in her; So leave the Sinner, And sigh no more! LOVE'S WISDOM How long I've loved thee, and how well — Because, if thou shouldst once divine Or did but once my tongue confess Far, far too plainly thou wouldst see And, guessing what Love's wit should hide, WHEN Dorothy and I took tea, we sat upon the floor; No matter how much tea I drank, she always gave me more; Our table was the scarlet box in which her tea-set came; Our guests, an armless one-eyed doll, a wooden horse gone lame. She poured out nothing, very fast, the tea-pot tipped on high, And in the bowl found sugar lumps unseen by my dull eye. She added rich (pretended) cream it seemed a wilful waste, For though she overflowed the cup, it did not change the taste. She asked, "Take milk?" or 66 Sugar?" and though I answered, "No," She put them in, and told me that I "must take it so!" She'd say "Another cup, Papa?" and I, "No, thank you, Ma'am," But then I had to take it her courtesy was sham. Allowing only needful time to pour them, The Great Twin Brethren came A righteous fight for Rome to make Against the Deed of ShameSo now a ghostly ship shall doom The fleet of treacherous Spain : Before her guilty soul doth loom The spirit of the Maine! A wraith arrayed in peaceful white, She glides before the avenging fleet, A sign of woe to Spain. Brave though her sons, how shall they meet The spirit of the Maine ! |