Part 27

And Peace--all pallid from the battle-field When first again it hovered o'er the land And found his voice above it like a shield, Had nestled in his hand.

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O throne of State and gilded Senate halls-- Though thousands throng your aisles and galleries-- How empty are ye! and what silence falls On your hilarities!

And yet, though great the loss to us appears, The consolation sweetens all our pain-- Though hushed the voice, through all the coming years Its echoes will remain.

AN AUTUMNAL EXTRAVAGANZA

With a sweeter voice than birds Dare to twitter in their sleep, Pipe for me a tune of words, Till my dancing fancies leap Into freedom vaster far Than the realms of Reason are! Sing for me with wilder fire Than the lover ever sung, From the time he twanged the lyre When the world was baby-young.

O my maiden Autumn, you-- You have filled me through and through With a passion so intense, All of earthly eloquence Fails, and falls, and swoons away In your presence. Like as one Who essays to look the sun Fairly in the face, I say, Though my eyes you dazzle blind Greater dazzled is my mind. So, my Autumn, let me kneel At your feet and worship you! Be my sweetheart; let me feel Your caress; and tell me too Why your smiles bewilder me-- Glancing into laughter, then Trancing into calm again, Till your meaning drowning lies In the dim depths of your eyes. Let me see the things you see Down the depths of mystery! Blow aside the hazy veil From the daylight of your face With the fragrance-ladened gale Of your spicy breath and chase Every dimple to its place. Lift your gipsy finger-tips To the roses of your lips, And fling down to me a bud-- But an unblown kiss--but one-- It shall blossom in my blood, Even after life is done-- When I dare to touch the brow Your rare hair is veiling now-- When the rich, red-golden strands Of the treasure in my hands Shall be all of worldly worth Heaven lifted from the earth, Like a banner to have set On its highest minaret.

THE ROSE

It tossed its head at the wooing breeze; And the sun, like a bashful swain, Beamed on it through the waving trees With a passion all in vain,-- For my rose laughed in a crimson glee, And hid in the leaves in wait for me.

The honey-bee came there to sing His love through the languid hours, And vaunt of his hives, as a proud old king Might boast of his palace-towers: But my rose bowed in a mockery, And hid in the leaves in wait for me.

The humming-bird, like a courtier gay, Dipped down with a dalliant song, And twanged his wings through the roundelay Of love the whole day long: Yet my rose turned from his minstrelsy And hid in the leaves in wait for me.

The firefly came in the twilight dim My red, red rose to woo-- Till quenched was the flame of love in him, And the light of his lantern too, As my rose wept with dewdrops three And hid in the leaves in wait for me.

And I said: I will cull my own sweet rose-- Some day I will claim as mine The priceless worth of the flower that knows No change, but a bloom divine-- The bloom of a fadeless constancy That hides in the leaves in wait for me!

But time passed by in a strange disguise, And I marked it not, but lay In a lazy dream, with drowsy eyes, Till the summer slipped away, And a chill wind sang in a minor key: "Where is the rose that waits for thee?"

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I dream to-day, o'er a purple stain Of bloom on a withered stalk, Pelted down by the autumn rain In the dust of the garden-walk, That an Angel-rose in the world to be Will hide in the leaves in wait for me.

THE MERMAN

Who would be A merman gay, Singing alone, Sitting alone, With a mermaid's knee, For instance--hey-- For a throne?

I would be a merman gay; I would sit and sing the whole day long; I would fill my lungs with the strongest brine, And squirt it up in a spray of song, And soak my head in my liquid voice; I'd curl my tail in curves divine, And let each curve in a kink rejoice. I'd tackle the mermaids under the sea, And yank 'em around till they yanked me, Sportively, sportively; And then we would wiggle away, away, To the pea-green groves on the coast of day, Chasing each other sportively.

III

There would be neither moon nor star; But the waves would twang like a wet guitar Low thunder and thrum in the darkness grum-- Neither moon nor star; We would shriek aloud in the dismal dales-- Shriek at each other and squawk and squeal, "All night!" rakishly, rakishly; They would pelt me with oysters and wiggletails, Laughing and clapping their hands at me, "All night!" prankishly, prankishly; But I would toss them back in mine, Lobsters and turtles of quaint design; Then leaping out in an abrupt way, I'd snatch them bald in my devilish glee, And skip away when they snatched at me, Fiendishly, fiendishly. O, what a jolly life I'd lead, Ah, what a "bang-up" life indeed! Soft are the mermaids under the sea-- We would live merrily, merrily.

THE RAINY MORNING

The dawn of the day was dreary, And the lowering clouds o'erhead Wept in a silent sorrow Where the sweet sunshine lay dead; And a wind came out of the eastward Like an endless sigh of pain, And the leaves fell down in the pathway And writhed in the falling rain.

I had tried in a brave endeavor To chord my harp with the sun, But the strings would slacken ever, And the task was a weary one: And so, like a child impatient And sick of a discontent, I bowed in a shower of tear-drops And mourned with the instrument.

And lo! as I bowed, the splendor Of the sun bent over me, With a touch as warm and tender As a father's hand might be: And, even as I felt its presence, My clouded soul grew bright, And the tears, like the rain of morning, Melted in mists of light.

WE ARE NOT ALWAYS GLAD WHEN WE SMILE

We are not always glad when we smile: Though we wear a fair face and are gay, And the world we deceive May not ever believe We could laugh in a happier way.-- Yet, down in the deeps of the soul, Ofttimes, with our faces aglow, There's an ache and a moan That we know of alone, And as only the hopeless may know.

We are not always glad when we smile,-- For the heart, in a tempest of pain, May live in the guise Of a smile in the eyes As a rainbow may live in the rain; And the stormiest night of our woe May hang out a radiant star Whose light in the sky Of despair is a lie As black as the thunder-clouds are.