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To my Father

SONNETS

THE DAYS

 
A long grim corridor—a sullen bar
Of light athwart the darkness—where no fleet
Pale sunshine spreads for dark his winding sheet
A light, not born of noon nor placid star
Glows lurid thro' the gloom—while from afar,
Beats marching of innumerable feet.
Is this the place where tragic armies meet?
The throb of terror that presages war?—
I strain to see, then softly on my sight
There falls the vision, manifold they come—
White listless Day chained to her brother Night—
Their hands are shackled and their lips are dumb,
And as they meet the air where each one dies,
They turn and smile at me—with weary eyes.
 

THE EVERLASTING SNOWS

 
And shall it be that these undaunted snows
That poise so lightly on the mountains' crest—
A lily laid to cheer its lonely breast—
Shall their chill smile still face the wind, that blows
Across the field whereon no blossom grows,
And light the land where no gay life may rest
Save glowing hasty fingers of the West,
When our two hearts lie cold beneath the rose?
These silver flakes of ancient hoary frost,
Surviving all our joys' supremest powers,
And though the petals of your lips be lost
And gone the summer of your golden head,
This pale eternal growth of winter's flowers
Shall still live on—though our sweet love be dead.
 

THRONE AND ALTAR

 
He had a vision of a golden throne
Fronting an altar; both alike were bare,
But o'er the purple of the regal chair
Blazed the device, "I wait for him alone
Who with the world has held his soul his own."
He sadly turned, this height he could not dare.
But—Stay—the text upon the altar there—
"I wait for him who has not made a moan
Howe'er his kind have used his heaven-sent dower.
Fear not, and burn thine incense, lowly heart."
And sudden brightness turns the averted face,
To holy sense of majesty and power—
And a voice:—"Master—this indeed thou art."
Wondrous music trembles thro' the space.
 

EAST AND WEST

 
You have not ceased for me. Though stern-browed Fate
Laid our two paths apart; when in the West
She gave you over to the seas, and great
Wide winds of enterprise, and set your breast
Against the suns and shadows of the earth;
Then with a gilded largess, led my ways
Toward the time-worn East, who paints her dearth
With purple vain imaginings; the praise
Of all her languid incense and the pride
Of ancient mysteries and hopeless creeds
Hold for my heart no spell when warm and wide
I see across the blue of Isis' veil
The thunderous breakers of your ocean pale
And glints of prairie sun through river reeds.
 

THE BATTLE

 
The pallid waves caress the paler sand,
Falter and tremble, then reluctant wane,
Fearing advance, yet venturing again.
Grey deep sea waves that never knew the land,
Tired with the tumult, stretch a crooked hand
To win a precious sweet surcease from pain,
But, glancing back upon the mighty main,
Perforce return to swell the strong command.
So fretful Life sees Death's cold sands and faints
To fling thereon the wearing of her wave,
Yet, turning ere she finds the gloomy shore,
Seeing ahead the idle senseless grave,
Behind—the Kings, the Patriots and the Saints,
She sighing turns to face the fight once more.
 

WATER AND WINE

 
I asked for water and they brought me wine;
Wine in a jewelled chalice, where the gold
Gleamed thro' the purple beads, as if unrolled—
One saw the sun-rays of a life-time shine.
So drinking, I forgot my dream divine
Of crystal purity, for in my hold
Were wealth and Fame and Passions manifold
Which with the draught I fancied might be mine.
"Ah, Youth," I said, "Ah, Faith and Love!" I said;
"These are but broken lances in the strife!
What shall remain when all these things are sped?"
Then crashed the dream. I clutched the hand of Fate
Amid the ruins of my shattered life,
And found the Gods had cheated, all too late.
 

PITY ME NOT!

 
Cruel and fair! within thy hollowed hand
My heart is lying as a little rose,
So faint and faded, scarce could one suppose
It might look in thine eyes and understand
The song they sing unto a weary land,
Making it radiant, yet because I dare,
To love thee, being weak, lose not thine air
Of passive distance, fateful and most grand.
 
 
Pity me not, nor turn away awhile
Till absence's cloud has caught my passion up.
Ah, be not kind! for love's sake, be not kind!
Grant me the tragic deepness of the cup,
And when thine eyes have flashed and made me blind,
Kill me beneath the shadow of thy smile.