Poetry Archives

Dawn


On skies still and starlit
 White lustres take hold,
And grey flushes scarlet,
 And red flashes gold.
And sun-glories cover
The rose shed above her,
Like lover and lover
 They flame and unfold.

     *    *    *    *    *

Still bloom in the garden
 Green grass-plot, fresh lawn,
Though pasture lands harden
 And drought fissures yawn.
While leaves not a few fall,
Let rose leaves for you fall,
Leaves pearl-strung with dew-fall,
 And gold shot with dawn.

Does the grass-plot remember
 The fall of your feet
In autumn’s red ember,
 When drought leagues with heat,
When the last of the roses
Despairingly closes
In the lull that reposes
 Ere storm winds wax fleet?

Love’s melodies languish
 In “Chastelard’s” strain,
And “Abelard’s” anguish
 Is love’s pleasant pain!
And “Sappho” rehearses
Love’s blessings and curses
In passionate verses
 Again and again.

And I!—I have heard of
 All these long ago,
Yet never one word of
 Their song-lore I know;
Not under my finger
In songs of the singer
Love’s litanies linger,
 Love’s rhapsodies flow.

Fresh flowers in a basket—
 An offering to you—
Though you did not ask it,
 Unbidden I strew;
With heat and drought striving,
Some blossoms still living
May render thanksgiving
 For dawn and for dew.

The garlands I gather,
 The rhymes I string fast,
Are hurriedly rather
 Than heedlessly cast.
Yon tree’s shady awning
Is short’ning, and warning
Far spent is the morning,
 And I must ride fast.

Songs empty, yet airy,
 I’ve striven to write,
For failure, dear Mary!
 Forgive me—Good-night!
Songs and flowers may beset you,
I can only regret you,
While the soil where I met you
 Recedes from my sight.

For the sake of past hours,
 For the love of old times,
Take “A Basket of Flowers”,
 And a bundle of rhymes;
Though all the bloom perish
E’en your hand can cherish,
While churlish and bearish
 The verse-jingle chimes.

And Eastward by Nor’ward
 Looms sadly my track,
And I must ride forward,
 And still I look back,—
Look back—ah, how vainly!
For while I see plainly,
My hands on the reins lie
 Uncertain and slack.

The warm wind breathes strong breath,
 The dust dims mine eye,
And I draw one long breath,
 And stifle one sigh.
Green slopes, softly shaded,
Have flitted and faded—
My dreams flit as they did—
 Good-night!—and—Good-bye!

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Dusk


Lost rose! end my story!
 Dead core and dry husk—
Departed thy glory
 And tainted thy musk.
Night spreads her dark limbs on
The face of the dim sun,
So flame fades to crimson
 And crimson to dusk.