Helen Fiske Jackson CORONATION AT the king's gate the subtle noon Wove filmy yellow nets of sun; Into the drowsy snare too soon The guards fell one by one. ("H. H.") On the king's gate the moss grew gray; The king came not. They called him dead; And made his eldest son one day Slave in his father's stead. MORN IN what a strange bewilderment do we Awake each morn from out the brief night's sleep. Our struggling consciousness doth grope and creep Its slow way back, as if it could not free Before. I wonder if this is the way A brief bewilderment, and in dismay Franklin Benjamin Sanborn SAMUEL HOAR ARIANA1 SWEET saint! whose rising dawned upon the sight Like fair Aurora chasing mists away, Ah! whither vanished that celestial light? But thou returnest not with days and years: Or is it thine, yon clear and beckoning star, Seen o'er the hills that guarded once thy home ? Dost guide thy friend's free steps that widely roam Toward that far country where his wishes are ? AT CHAPPAQUA Joel Benton With rapture still. This breeze once fanned his brow. This is the peaceful Mecca all men know! THE SCARLET TANAGER A BALL of fire shoots through the tamarack 1 See BIOGRAPHICAL NOTE, p. 819. |