"A friend has lost a friend. What Allah gave Brow-shaded, through the darkness of the mist, His wisdom takes. He never yet has Marking a beauty like a wandering breath erred!" Thus said, and made the slain a martial grave. WALT WHITMAN He was in love with Truth and knew her near Her comrade, not her suppliant on the knee: She gave him wild melodious words to be Made music that should haunt the atmosphere. She drew him to her bosom, day-long dear, And pointed to the stars and to the sea, And taught him miracles and mystery, And made him master of the rounded year. Yet one gift did she keep. He looked in vain, That beckoned, yet denied his soul a tryst: He sang a passion, yet he saw not plain Till kind earth held him and he spake with death. FICKLE HOPE HOPE, is this thy hand Lies warm as life in mine? Of peace none understand? From off the blue air's beach The price of pity past? I know not if I may Believe thee, Hope, or doubt: With pretty pout Wilt flee, or wilt thou stay? be. THE SEARCH but at best it is a pale reflection of the truth. No one could tell me where my Soul might I am not to be put off with symbols, for the soul of the world is itself abroad to-night. I searched for God, but God eluded me. I sought my Brother out, and found all three. 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; 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. Not in the embrace of yonder pair of lovers either, heart beating to heart in the 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 fast the gathering shadows creep THE OTHER ONE SWEET little maid with winsome eyes Gazing with baby looks so wise Here where the firelight softly glows, But deep is the drifting snow to-night Hold me close as you sagely stand, Shut from the light of stars and sun, That hide the face of the sleeping one. Laugh, little maid, while laugh you may, Better perhaps for her to stay Sing while you may your baby songs, After all Over the shimmering slabs he goes Hark! from the heights the clear, strong, Every grave in the dark he knows; 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!" After all, 'Tis Freedom wears the loveliest coronal; Her brow is to the morning; in the sod She breathes the breath of patriots; every clod Answers her call And rises like a wall Against the foes of liberty and God! A PLANTATION DITTY DE gray owl sing fum de chimbly top: "Who-who-is-you-oo?" En I say: "Good Lawd, hit 's des po' me, De gray owl sing fum de cypress tree: En I say: see Hit ain't nobody but des po' me, look you En I like ter stay 'twell my time is free; Oh, wait, good Lawd, 'twell ter-morror!" THE GRAVEYARD RABBIT IN the white moonlight, where the willow waves, He halfway gallops among the graves But wary still! For they plot him ill; For the graveyard rabbit hath a charm (May God defend us!) to shield from harm. 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 !" |