Poems

WHEN children in the summer weather play, Flitting like birds through sun and wind and rain, From road to field, from field to road again, Pathetic reckoning of each mile they stray They leave in flowers forgotten by the way; Forgotten, dying, but not all in vain, Since, finding them, with tender smiles, half pain, Half joy, we sigh, "Some child passed here to-day." Dear one,—whose name I name not lest some tongue Pronounce it roughly,—like a little child Tired out at noon, I left my flowers among The wayside things. I know how thou hast smiled, And that the thought of them will always be One more sweet secret thing 'twixt thee and me.

O Christmas stars! your pregnant silentness, Mute syllabled in rhythmic light, Leads on to-night, And beckons, as three thousand years ago It beckoning led."

I only know that some one came, And laid within My hand the thread, and said, 'Since you Are blind, but one thing you can do.'"

A room in the palace is shut. The king And the queen are sitting in black.

The hut has a door, but the hinge is weak, And to-day the wind blows it back."

"I close my eyes; Cold wind blows from the Bridge of Sighs; Kneeling I wait to-morrow."

"O, what stain, Of red like this on hands of love was seen Ever before or since, since love has been!"

"When the tide goes out, The shore looks dark and sad with doubt."

"And Joy comes hand in hand With Grief, each bearing crowns with buds of snow, Both laying crowns upon my head."

Sudden I heard a joyous cry, 'Behold, behold!' And, smiling still on me, the good guide turned, And pointed where broad, sunny fields unrolled And spread like banners."

Ralph Waldo Emerson.

O, golden-winged, on guard at crumbled gate And fallen wall of emperors and kings.

Above, below me, on the hill, Great fields of grain their fulness fill; The golden fruit bends down the trees; The grass stands high round mowers' knees."

"In Alpine valleys, they who watch for dawn Look never to the east; but fix their eyes On loftier mountain-peaks of snow, which rise To west or south."

When at my very feet I saw, With sudden joy, half joy, half awe, Low nestled in a dead log's cleft, One pale Twin-Flower, the last one left."

And when, remembering me, you come some day And stand there, speak no praise, but only say, 'How she loved us! 'T was that which made her dear!' Those are the words that I shall joy to hear."

Thou heldest thy race too dear, thyself too cheap; Honor no second place for truth can keep."

"O Winter! frozen pulse and heart of fire."

No blossom blooms upon thy brightest day So subtly sweet as memories which unfold In aged hearts which in thy sunshine lie, To sun themselves once more before they die."

But in still lakes and rivers, cool, content, Like starry blooms on a new firmament, White lilies float and regally abide."

O golden month! How high thy gold is heaped! The yellow birch-leaves shine like bright coins strung On wands;"

"With trembling lips he spoke."

Sudden a clash of arms,—a gleam Of fire of torches!"

"Old as the world—no other things to old!"

O peerless shore of peerless sea! From all the world we turn to thee."