War

What are those of the known, but to ascend and enter the Unknown?
And what are those of life, but for Death?

Drop, drop from the leaves of lign aloes,
    O honey-dew! drop from the tree.
Float up through your clear river shallows,
    White lilies, beloved of the bee.

Let the people, O Queen! say, and bless thee,
    Her bounty drops soft as the dew,
And spotless in honor confess thee,
    As lilies are spotless in hue.

On the roof stands yon white stork awaking,
    His feathers flush rosy the while,
For, lo! from the blushing east breaking,
    The sun sheds the bloom of his smile.

Let them boast of thy word, "It is certain;
    We doubt it no more," let them say,
"Than to-morrow that night's dusky curtain
    Shall roll back its folds for the day."

As Islam's Prophet, when his last day drew
Nigh to its close, besought all men to say
Whom he had wronged, to whom he then should pay
A debt forgotten, or for pardon sue,
And, through the silence of his weeping friends,
A strange voice cried: "Thou owest me a debt,"
"Allah be praised!" he answered. "Even yet
He gives me power to make to thee amends.
O friend! I thank thee for thy timely word."
So runs the tale. Its lesson all may heed,
For all have sinned in thought, or word, or deed,
Or, like the Prophet, through neglect have erred.
All need forgiveness, all have debts to pay
Ere the night cometh, while it still is day

It is no Spirit who from heaven hath flown,
And is descending on his embassy;
Nor Traveller gone from earth the heavens to espy!
'Tis Hesperus, there he stands with glittering crown,
First admonition that the sun is down!
For yet it is broad day-light: clouds pass by;
A few are near him still, and now the sky,
He hath it to himself 'tis all his own.
O most ambitious Star! an inquest wrought
Within me when I recognised thy light;
A moment I was startled at the sight:
And, while I gazed, there came to me a thought
That I might step beyond my natural race
As thou seem'st now to do; might one day trace
Some ground not mine; and, strong her strength above,
My Soul, an Apparition in the place,
Tread there with steps that no one shall reprove!

DEAD! my wayward boy - my own -
Not the Law's! but mine - the good
God's free gift to me alone,
Sanctified by motherhood.

"Bad," you say: Well, who is not?
"Brutal" - "with a heart of stone" -
And "red-handed." - Ah! the hot
Blood upon your own!

I come not, with downward eyes,
To plead for him shamedly, -
God did not apologize
When He gave the boy to me.

Simply, I make ready now
For His verdict. - You prepare -
You have killed us both - and how
Will you face us There!

I gazed at the azure-hued mantle of heaven,
    The measureless depths of ethereal space;
I gazed at the clouds, so invisibly driven,
    And an eagle, which wheeled with symmetrical grace.

I gazed at that eagle, majestically wheeling,
    With dignity, born of the free mountain air;
I envied that bird, with an envious feeling
    Which springs from a heart that is shackled with care.

I envied that eagle, which bowed to no master,
    But soared at his will, through the ambient skies,
Defiant of danger, and scorning disaster,
    He screamed at the cliffs, which re-echoed his cries.

I envied that bird, on that fair summer morning,
    When nature lay decked with spontaneous art,
As he circled, with aspect defiant and scorning,
    And perched on a...

Captain O’Hare was a mariner brave;
He refused to abandon his ship;
A hero, he sleeps in a watery grave,
And his widow is now Mrs. Bipp,
Haw! Haw!
His widow is now Mrs. Bipp!

Henri Dupont was a fearless young ace;
Five thousand feet up he was hit;
Each year on his grave pretty flowers we place,
And his widow is now Mrs. Schmitt,
Haw! Haw!
His widow is now Mrs. Schmitt!

Corporal Dunn was a volunteer bold;
He plunged in the deadliest fray;
A bayonet thrust laid him out stony cold,
And his widow is now Mrs. Gray,
Haw! Haw!
His widow is now Mrs. Gray!

But Peter McGuck was a cowardly sneak,
Like a hound he remained home in fear;
When fishing one day he fell into the creek,
And his widow is now Mrs. Greer,
Haw! Haw! Ha...

(See Note 71)

... O'er uplands fresh swift sped my sleigh ...
A light snow fell; along the way
Stood firs and birches slender.
The former pondered deep, alone,
The latter laughed, their white boughs shone; -
All brings a picture tender.

So light and free is now the air;
Of all its burdens stripped it bare
The snow with playful sally.
I glimpse behind its veil so thin
A landscape gay, and high within
A snow-peak o'er the valley.

But from the border white and brown,
Where'er I look, there's peeping down
A face ... but whose, whose is it?
I bore my gaze 'neath cap and brim
And see the snowflakes swarm and swim; -
Will some one here me visit?

A star fell on my glove ... right here ...
And here again ... its unlike peer; ...

Day by day, with startling fleetness,
    Life speeds away;
Love, alone, can glean its sweetness,
    Love while you may.
While the soul is strong and fearless,
While the eye is bright and tearless,
Ere the heart is chilled and cheerless -
    Love while you may.

Life may pass, but love, undying,
    Dreads no decay;
Even from the grave replying,
    "Love while you may."
Love's the fruit, as life's the flower;
Love is heaven's rarest dower;
Love gives love its quick'ning power -
    Love while you may.

    SPOKEN BY MONTEZUMA.

    You see what shifts we are enforced to try,
    To help out wit with some variety;
    Shows may be found that never yet were seen,
    'Tis hard to find such wit as ne'er has been:
    You have seen all that this old world can do,
    We therefore try the fortune of the new,
    And hope it is below your aim to hit
    At untaught nature with your practised wit:
    Our naked Indians, then, when wits appear,
    Would as soon choose to have the Spaniards here.
    'Tis true, you have marks enough, the plot, the show,
    The poet's scenes, nay, more, the painter's too;
    If all this fail, considering the cost,
    'Tis a true voyage to the Indies lost:
    But if you smile on all, then these designs,
    Like the imperfect...

When, to their airy hall, my Fathers' voice
Shall call my spirit, joyful in their choice;
When, pois'd upon the gale, my form shall ride,
Or, dark in mist, descend the mountain's side;
Oh! may my shade behold no sculptur'd urns,
To mark the spot where earth to earth returns!
No lengthen'd scroll, no praise-encumber'd stone;
My epitaph shall be my name alone: [2]
If that with honour fail to crown my clay,
Oh! may no other fame my deeds repay!
That, only that, shall single out the spot;
By that remember'd, or with that forgot.

There are, there are
Invisible Great Helpers of the race.
Across unatlased continents of space,
From star to star.
    In answer to some soul's imperious need,
    They speed, they speed.

When the earth-loving young are forced to stand
Upon the border of the Unknown Land,
They come, they come - those angels who have trod
The altitudes of God,
And to the trembling heart
Their strength impart.
    Have you not seen the delicate young maid,
Filled with the joy of life in her fair dawn,
    Look in the face of death, all unafraid,
And smilingly pass on?

This is not human strength; not even faith
    Has such large confidence in such an hour.
    It is a power
Supplied by beings who have conquered death.
    Floating from sphere to s...

Bereaved of all, I went abroad,
No less bereaved to be
Upon a new peninsula, --
The grave preceded me,

Obtained my lodgings ere myself,
And when I sought my bed,
The grave it was, reposed upon
The pillow for my head.

I waked, to find it first awake,
I rose, -- it followed me;
I tried to drop it in the crowd,
To lose it in the sea,

In cups of artificial drowse
To sleep its shape away, --
The grave was finished, but the spade
Remained in memory.

Well, I will never more complain,
Or call the Fates unkind;
Alas! how fond it is, how vain!
But self-conceitedness does reign
I nevery mortal mind.

'Tis true, they long did me deny,
Nor would permit a sight;
I raged, for I could not espy,
Or think that any harm could lie
Disguised in that delight.

At last, my wishes to fulfil,
They did their power resign,
I saw her, but I wish I still
Had been obedient to their will,
And they not unto mine.

Yet I by this have learn'd the wit
Never to grieve or fret;
Contentedly I will submit,
And think that best which they think fit,
Without the least regret.

Not we who daily walk the city's
Not those who have been cradled in its heart,
Best understand its architectural art
Or realise its grandeur.    Oft we meet
Some stranger who has staid his passing feet
And lingered with us for a single hour,
And learned more of cathedral, and of tower,
Than we who deem our knowledge quite complete.

Not always those we hold most loved and dear,
Not always those who dwell with us, know best
Our greater selves.    Because they stand so near
They cannot see the lofty mountain crest,
The gleaming sun-kissed height, which fair and clear
Stands forth - revealed unto the some-time guest.

        (To a Young Nobleman.)


        Begin, my lord, in early youth,
        To bear with, nay encourage, truth.
        And blame me not, for disrespect,
        That I the flatterer's style reject.

        Let Virtue be your first pursuit;
        Is not the tree known by its fruit?
        Set your great ancestry in view;
        Honour the title from them due.
        Assert that you are nobly born,
        Viewing ignoble things with scorn.

        My lord, your ancestry had not
        The wealth and heirlooms you have got;
        Yet was their conscience aye their own,
        Nor ever pandered to the throne.
        With hands by no corruption stained
        They ministerial bribes disdained;
        They served ...

Sweet and low, sweet and low,
Wind of the western sea,
Low, low, breathe and blow,
Wind of the western sea!
Over the rolling waters go,
Come from the dying moon, and blow,
Blow him again to me;
While my little one, while my pretty one, sleeps.

Sleep and rest, sleep and rest,
Father will come to thee soon;
Rest, rest, on mother's breast,
Father will come to thee soon;
Father will come to his babe in the best,
Silver sails all out of the west,
Under the silver moon:
Sleep, my little one, sleep, my pretty one, sleep.

This saying good-bye on the edge of the dark
And cold to an orchard so young in the bark
Reminds me of all that can happen to harm
An orchard away at the end of the farm
All winter, cut off by a hill from the house.
I don't want it girdled by rabbit and mouse,
I don't want it dreamily nibbled for browse
By deer, and I don't want it budded by grouse.
(If certain it wouldn't be idle to call
I'd summon grouse, rabbit, and deer to the wall
And warn them away with a stick for a gun.)
I don't want it stirred by the heat of the sun.
(We made it secure against being, I hope,
By setting it out on a northerly slope.)
No orchard's the worse for the wintriest storm;
But one thing about it, it mustn't get warm.
"How often already you've had to be told,
Keep cold, youn...