tells you, sweet primrose, 'tis time to wake upAfter dreaming all day?
Who changes so quickly your sombre green dress
To the yellow one gay,
And makes you the pet of the twilight's caress,
And of poet's sweet lay?
Who does, primrose, pray?
The primrose, secure on his emerald throne,
Looked up quickly to say,
"A dear lovely fairy glides down from his throne
In the sun's golden ray,
And with a sweet kiss opens wide all our eyes,
Saying, 'Now is your day.'
And lo! when he's gone we are filled with surprise
At our wondrous array,
So fresh and so gay.
Do tell us the name of this fairy, I pray,
Who gives of his beauty, and then hies away
Without thanks, without pay.
Does he linger your way?"
JOY, ALL JOY
Lying on the new-mown hay, in a sightly field,
On a summer day,
With no care to weigh,
Or a bitter thought to stay all that sense might yield —
What a joy to have alway!
Sky as blue as blue can be, perfect green all round,
Birdlings on the wing
Ere they pause to sing
On the top of bush or tree, or on sweet hay-mound —
Restful joy in everything!
Butterflies just come to light, proud of freedom's hour,
Cows in pastures near,
Wondering why I'm here,
Chipmunks now and then in sight, bees in clover-flower —
Added joy when these appear!
Happy children far and near climbing loads of hay,
Running here and there.
Farmer's work to share,
Skipping, shouting loud and clear, full of daring play —
Children's joy! Joy everywhere!
AMONG THE PINES
Far up in air the pines are murmuring
Love songs sweet and low,
With a rhythmic flow,
Worthy of the glad sun's glow.
The airy clouds are o'er them bending,
Captured by the sound
Of such pleasure found
In a playful daily round.
The birds pause in their flight to listen,
Wondering all the while
How the trees can smile
Rooted so to earthly guile.
The hush of summer noon enwraps them
Perfumed from below
By the flowers that show
They, too, murmuring love songs know.
All nature finds a joy in loving —
Oh, that I could hear
Love songs once so dear
Death has hushed forever here!
Intervale Woods, North Conway.
CONSCIOUS OR UNCONSCIOUS?
The earthquake's shock, the thunder's roar,
The lightning's vivid chain,
The ocean's strength, the deluge's pour,
The wildest hurricane,
Are moods that Nature loves to show
To man who boasts his birth
From conscious force she could not know
Because denied soul-worth.
But is it true she does not share
A knowledge in God's plan?
Must not she His own secret bear
To so touch soul of man?
Those who deny this see not clear
Into the heart of things;
For how could otherwise God here
Reveal His wanderings?
POEMS OF LOVE
LOVE'S HOW AND WHY
How do I love thee?
Oh, who knows
How the blush of the rose
Can its secret disclose?
Oh, who knows?
Why do I love thee?
Ah, who cares
Sound a passion he shares
With the angels? Who dares,
Yes, who dares?
LOVE'S GUERDON
Thine eyes are stars to hold me
To love's pure rapturous height.
Thy thoughts are pearls to lead me
To truth beyond earth's sight.
Thy love is life to keep me
Forever in God's light.
A BIRTHDAY GREETING
Thy birthday, dear?
Oh, would I had the poet's art
By which I could my wish impart
For thy new year;
But e'en a poet's pen of gold
Would fail my wish to thee unfold
In earthly sphere.
Thy birthday, dear?
Oh, would I had the painter's skill
Prophetic visions to fulfill
For thy new year;
But e'en a painter's rarest brush
Would but my holy visions crush,
Or fail to cheer.
Thy birthday, dear?
Oh, would I had sweet music's aid
To vitalize the prayers I've made
For thy new year;
Alas! not even music's best
Could put in form my soul's behest
For thee, my dear.
That only will expression find
In purest depths of thine own mind
This coming year;
As, guided by the inner light,
There'll come to thee the new-born sight
Of ravished seer.
But in this sight
