You like buttercups, dewy sweet, And crocuses, framed in snow; I like roses, born of the heat, And the red carnation's glow.
I must live my life, not yours, my friend, For so it was written down; We must follow our given paths to the end, But I trust we shall meet--in town.
OVER THE BANISTERS
Over the banisters bends a face, Daringly sweet and beguiling.
Somebody stands in careless grace And watching the picture, smiling.
The light burns dim in the hall below, Nobody sees her standing, Saying good-night again, soft and low, Halfway up to the landing.
Nobody only the eyes of brown, Tender and full of meaning, That smile on the fairest face in town, Over the banisters leaning.
Tired and sleepy, with drooping head, I wonder why she lingers; Now, when the good-nights all are said, Why, somebody holds her fingers.
He holds her fingers and draws her down, Suddenly growing bolder, Till the loose hair drops its masses brown Like a mantle over his shoulder.
Over the banisters soft hands, fair, Brush his cheeks like a feather, And bright brown tresses and dusky hair Meet and mingle together.
There's a question asked, there's a swift caress, She has flown like a bird from the hallway, But over the banisters drops a "Yes," That shall brighten the world for him alway.
THE PAST
I fling my past behind me like a robe Worn threadbare in the seams, and out of date.
I have outgrown it. Wherefore should I weep And dwell upon its beauty, and its dyes Of Oriental splendour, or complain That I must needs discard it? I can weave Upon the shuttles of the future years A fabric far more durable. Subdued, It may be, in the blending of its hues, Where sombre shades commingle, yet the gleam Of golden warp shall shoot it through and through, While over all a fadeless lustre lies, And starred with gems made out of crystalled tears, My new robe shall be richer than the old.
SECRETS
Think not some knowledge rests with thee alone; Why, even God's stupendous secret, Death, We one by one, with our expiring breath, Do pale with wonder seize and make our own; The bosomed treasures of the earth are shown, Despite her careful hiding; and the air Yields its mysterious marvels in despair To swell the mighty store-house of things known.
In vain the sea expostulates and raves; It cannot cover from the keen world's sight The curious wonders of its coral caves.
And so, despite thy caution or thy tears, The prying fingers of detective years Shall drag THY secret out into the light.
APPLAUSE
I hold it one of the sad certain laws Which makes our failures sometime seem more kind Than that success which brings sure loss behind - True greatness dies, when sounds the world's applause Fame blights the object it would bless, because Weighed down with men's expectancy, the mind Can no more soar to those far heights, and find That freedom which its inspiration was.
When once we listen to its noisy cheers Or hear the populace' approval, then We catch no more the music of the spheres, Or walk with gods, and angels, but with men.
Till, impotent from our self-conscious fears, The plaudits of the world turn into sneers.
THE STORY
They met each other in the glade - She lifted up her eyes; Alack the day! Alack the maid!
She blushed in swift surprise.
Alas! alas! the woe that comes from lifting up the eyes.
The pail was full, the path was steep - He reached to her his hand; She felt her warm young pulses leap, But did not understand.
Alas! alas! the woe that comes from clasping hand with hand.
She sat beside him in the wood - He wooed with words and sighs; Ah! love in Spring seems sweet and good, And maidens are not wise.
Alas! alas! the woe that comes from listing lovers sighs.
The summer sun shone fairly down, The wind blew from the south; As blue eyes gazed in eyes of brown, His kiss fell on her mouth.
Alas! alas! the woe that comes from kisses on the mouth.
And now the autumn time is near, The lover roves away, With breaking heart and falling tear, She sits the livelong day.
Alas! alas! for breaking hearts when lovers rove away.
LEAN DOWN
Lean down and lift me higher, Josephine!
From the Eternal Hills hast thou not seen How I do strive for heights? but lacking wings, I cannot grasp at once those better things To which I in my inmost soul aspire.
Lean down and lift me higher.
I grope along--not desolate or sad, For youth and hope and health all keep me glad; But too bright sunlight, sometimes, makes us blind, And I do grope for heights I cannot find.
Oh, thou must know my one supreme desire - Lean down and lift me higher.
Not long ago we trod the self-same way.
Thou knowest how, from day to fleeting day Our souls were vexed with trifles, and our feet Were lured aside to by-paths which seemed sweet, But only served to hinder and to tire; Lean down and lift me higher.
Thou hast gone onward to the heights serene, And left me here, my loved one, Josephine; I am content to stay until the end, For life is full of promise; but, my friend, Canst thou not help me in my best desire And lean, and lift me higher?
Frail as thou wert, thou hast grown strong and wise, And quick to understand and sympathize With all a full soul's needs. It must be so, Thy year with God hath made thee great, I know Thou must see how I struggle and aspire - Oh, warm me with a breath of heavenly fire, And lean, and lift me higher.
LIFE
I feel the great immensity of life.
All little aims slip from me, and I reach My yearning soul toward the Infinite.
As when a mighty forest, whose green leaves Have shut it in, and made it seem a bower For lovers' secrets, or for children's sports, Casts all its clustering foliage to the winds, And lets the eye behold it, limitless, And full of winding mysteries of ways:
So now with life that reaches out before, And borders on the unexplained Beyond.
I see the stars above me, world on world:
I hear the awful language of all Space; I feel the distant surging of great seas, That hide the secrets of the Universe In their eternal bosoms; and I know That I am but an atom of the Whole.
THE CHRISTIAN'S NEW YEAR PRAYER
