The Project Gutenberg eBook of A spray of lilac, by Marie Hedderwick Browne

This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere in the United States and most other parts of the world at no cost and with almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org. If you are not located in the United States, you will have to check the laws of the country where you are located before using this eBook.

Title: A spray of lilac

and other poems and songs

Author: Marie Hedderwick Browne

Release Date: July 21, 2022 [eBook #68579]

Language: English

Produced by: Charlene Taylor, Chuck Greif and the Online Distributed Proofreading Team at https://www.pgdp.net (This file was produced from images generously made available by The Internet Archive/American Libraries.)

*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK A SPRAY OF LILAC ***
[The image of the book's cover is unavailable.]

A Spray of Lilac


Printed by Ballantyne, Hanson and Co.
London and Edinburgh

A Spray
of Lilac

And Other Poems and Songs


BY
MARIE HEDDERWICK BROWNE


LONDON
ISBISTER AND COMPANY Limited
15 & 16 TAVISTOCK STREET COVENT GARDEN
1892

Oh, lilac bloom! strange that so slight a thing
 As thou is strong to roll away the stone
 From memory’s grave, and set the dead past free
 To claim again brief kinship with its own.

PREFATORY NOTE

Most of the Poems contained in this volume have appeared during the past ten years, in “Atalanta,” “Chambers’s Journal,” “London Society,” “Little Folks,” “The Girl’s Own Paper,” and other serials.

If an apology for venturing to offer them to the public in collected form be deemed necessary, I can only urge the plea of the poor but hospitable Dervish, “He is a generous host who freely giveth his best, be his best but clear water and a crust.”

M. H. B.

London, December 1892

CONTENTS

 PAGE
A SPRAY OF LILAC1
OLD GARDEN3
A MOTHER’S GRIEF5
A SUMMER MEMORY8
UNSATISFIED11
MY SONG12
IN AN OLD CHURCHYARD13
SECRETS15
REVEALED—NOT SPOKEN16
BURIED TREASURES19
AFFINITY20
“MY HOUSE IS LEFT UNTO ME DESOLATE”21
AN OLD MAN’S DREAM22
A SUMMER WOOING24
WEE ELSIE26
BIDE WI’ MITHER28
CHILD ANGELS30
MY LOVE OF LONG AGO32
IN SUMMER TIME34
TWIN-SISTERS36
AT LAST38
TRYSTING-TIME40
BESIDE THE DEAD41
HER FIRST SEASON43
ANTICIPATED46
WHEN THOU ART NEAR47
A PORTRAIT48
DOROTHY49
DAFFODILS51
THE BLACKBIRD52
“WHOM THE GODS LOVE DIE YOUNG”53
GRANNIE’S BAIRN54
LOVE’S POWER56
A JUNE MEMORY57
A MESSAGE59
HER WINDOW61
SHATTERED HOPES62
HAND IN HAND64
“AND FOR THE WEARY, REST”65
IN AN OLD ORCHARD67
BY THE SEA68
REGRET69
WAE’S ME70
THE REASON WHY71
DOWN BY THE SEA73
A VENTURE74
WATER LILIES75
THE SENTINEL76
A LOVE SONG77
AUTUMN78
A QUAKER MAID79
THE TIME, THE PLACE, THE BELOVED81
DAY DREAMS82
SONG OF THE SEASONS83
ONE SUMMER DAY84
THE INSCRUTABLE85
DELILAH86
A BABY’S GRAVE87
A CHILD’S FAVOURITE88
RICH OR POOR?89
DOLLY’S GARDEN90
IN A DREAM-SHIP91
THE FLOWER-QUEEN’S FALL93
A VETERAN95
TO A BUTTERFLY96
WHEN AND WHERE96
WHEN LOVE IS YOUNG100
A CHARACTER SKETCH101
FRIENDS102
BED-TIME104

{1}

A SPRAY OF LILAC

Pale cluster, thy faint perfume comes to me
 Laden with memories of long ago,
 And all the present dims as o’er my soul
 The waves of tender recollection flow.
With Spring’s young blood again my veins are thrilled,
 My hands are stretched to meet the coming years,
 The world holds all the glory that it held
 Ere yet mine eyes had looked on it thro’ tears.
With deftest fingers fancy weaves once more
 Her fairy fabrics; vast horizons glow
 With fires of promise, for behind their veils
 They hid rich treasures in that long-ago.{2}
The subtle sweetness of the vanished days,
 The rapture of the old ecstatic bliss,
 All, all are mine, as once again I cling
 To ripe warm lips in love’s first passion-kiss.
The long delicious Summer slowly weaves
 For Autumn’s brows a crown of living gold;
 Sad Winter follows with his winding-sheet,
 For all the glory has grown grey and old.
Oh, lilac bloom, strange that so slight a thing
 As thou, is strong to roll away the stone
 From memory’s grave, and set the dead past free
 To claim yet once brief kinship with its own.
 {3}

IN AN OLD GARDEN

Yellow roses, purple pansies,
 Tufts of heavy-headed stocks;
 Either side the quaint old gateway
 Blazing, torch-like hollyhocks.
Sweet peas tossing airy banners,
 Saintly lilies bending low,
 Daisies, powdering all the green sward
 With a shower of summer snow.
Boxwood borders—yews fantastic—
 Wallflowers that with every sigh
 Spill such scent that e’en the brown bees,
 Reel with rapture wandering by.{4}
And the pear trees, long arms stretching
 O’er the sunny gable wall,
 Scarce can hold their ruddy nurslings
 Ripening where the warm beams fall.
Oh, the ecstasy of living!
 How it thrills my life to-day!
 I can almost hear the flower-bells
 Tinkle where my footsteps stray!
In a garden God first placed man,
 There first woke Love’s magic thrill;
 And methinks a breath of Eden
 Clings to earth’s old gardens still.
 {5}

A MOTHER’S GRIEF

To a great wide city all alone,
 Long, long ago went our baby queen—
 No name but hers on the white headstone,
 That gleams to the moon from its mound of green!
 None of her own did welcome her there—
 Not a grain of kindred dust doth wave
 In the flowers that out of the tears of despair
 Have arched a rainbow over her grave.
Out from the shelter of loving arms,
 Out from the warmth of a mother’s breast,
 Heedless of darkness and night’s alarms,
 On to the silent city she pressed
 To take her place ’mong the mighty throng
 That people its myriad streets. Ah, me!
 I felt my God had done me a wrong,
 When He loosened love’s cords and set her free!{6}
And my passionate moan that broke in tears,
 Like a burdened wave on a desert shore,
 Seemed all too feeble to reach His ears
 And the pain grew old that my bosom bore;
 But the faith that I once had thought mine own
 Rose up to mock where it could not save,
 And my heart grew hard as the carven stone
 That was crushing my darling in her grave.
Whenever a child’s sweet flower-like face
 Met mine, a sickness would o’er me creep,
 And I’d turn wild eyes to the lonely place
 Where she was lying alone—asleep.
 At strife was I with the world, and God
 Had drawn around Him an angry cloud;
 Earth held no green but the churchyard sod,
 And the daisies wore the gleam of a shroud.
But a time there came when about my breast
 With a wand’ring touch small fingers stole,
 And feeble lips to its fountains pressed,
 And stirred with a vague sweet joy my soul;{7}
 And the floodgates opened, and blessèd tears
 Of repentance fell from my eyes like rain,
 And after the barren and prayerless years
 I knelt to the Giver of All again!
 {8}

A SUMMER MEMORY

I remember an evening,
 An evening in one far June,
 The sun seemed loth to leave the sky
 To a young impatient moon.
The yellow sands lay waiting
 For the sea’s long cool embrace;
 We watched the ripples breaking,
 Like smiles upon its face.
The green trees nestled closer
 To the broad breast of the hill;
 The twilight’s glamour gathered,
 And the day was with us still.{9}
And a sadness born of beauty,
 And a joy to pain akin,
 Touched all that lay without us,
 And hushed my soul within.
A silence stepped between us,
 We seemed to stand apart;
 Yet I thought your eyes grew tender,
 And I know what filled my heart.
But the words were never spoken;
 And the distance wider grew,
 Till the world of waves was lying
 Between me, love, and you,
No bridge might ever cross it.
 I watched you turn away,
 And I went back to duty—
 ’Tis all a woman may.
But I never shall be nearer
 The thrilling heights of bliss—
 Unless the next world gives us
 The love we lose in this{10}—
Than when in that far June-time,
 We seemed to stand apart,
 And I thought your eyes grew tender,
 And I knew what filled my heart.
 {11}

UNSATISFIED

Oh, “dear dead days” that dearer grow,
 I look behind, and thro’ my tears,
 Across a wide, wide gulf of years,
 I see you now and now I know.
When I was yours, you mine, alas!
 I did not know your real worth,
 And, longing for the future’s birth,
 Found time so slow, so slow to pass.
The joys I hoped for never came,
 While those I held slipped from my clasp,
 As I stretched yearning hands to grasp
 Shadows—’tis evermore the same!
We strain dim eyes up to the stars,
 Nor heed the blossoms at our feet;
 Like puny birds we beat and beat
 Our lives out ’gainst Fate’s prison bars.
 {12}

MY SONG

“When love is mine,” said I, “I’ll make a song
 In praise of love that maketh life so sweet;
 One worthy such a grand and noble theme—
 Worthy to lay at my belovèd’s feet.
“Pure, perfect pearls of poesy I’ll string
 On Music’s silken thread, so rhythmic-sweet
 That those who hear shall feel as though each word
 Were but an echo of my heart’s warm beat.”
Now love is mine; but where my boasted song?
 My heart is full—too full, ah me! for words;
 And yet methinks my new-found joy has lent
 Fresh rapture to the voices of the birds.
And I am dumb; the world will never hear
 The music filling all this life of mine.
 Oh! love is too sublime a theme for me;
 I can but kneel in silence at love’s shrine.
 {13}

IN AN OLD CHURCHYARD

In one of England’s sweetest spots,
 A little old grey church I found;
 Around it lies—dear restful ground!
 God’s garden with its sacred plots.
With myriad arms the ivy holds
 Its time-worn walls in close embrace:
 So Memory sometimes keeps a face
 Half-veiled in tender misty folds.
With sleepy twitter and with song
 The tower, bird-haunted, is alive;
 In leafy seas they dip and dive,
 Those tiny warblers all day long.
Like sentinels grown hoar with age,
 The crumbling headstones guard the graves
 Which softly swell—green voiceless waves
 That will not break though tempests rage.{14}
“Concerning them that are asleep”
 In this sweet hamlet of the dead,
 In broken sentences I read
 The record those old tablets keep;
Each told its tale, for hath not Grief
 A voice whose echoes never die?
 Adown the ages, Rachel’s cry
 Still rings o’er some God-garnered sheaf.
Mine eyes, ne’er prodigal of tears,
 Did fill with such as seemed to rise
 And drown the glory of the skies,
 O’er those who’d slept the sleep of years.
 {15}

SECRETS

July roses wet with rain
 Tap against the window-pane;
 There is something they would seek,
 Had they voices and could speak.
 Silence seals their crimson lips,
 And the dull rain drops and drips.
Th’ other side the streaming glass
 Stands a little sad-eyed lass;
 There is something she would seek,
 But a maiden may not speak—
 Silence seals her longing lips,
 And the dull rain drops and drips.
And salt tears in showers stain
 Her side of the window-pane;
 And the crimson roses grow
 Pale as dreams dreamt long ago;
 (Hearts may break behind sealed lips),
 And the dull rain drops and drips.
 {16}

REVEALED—NOT SPOKEN

The little maiden that I love,
 I met in yonder lane;
 A flood of sunshine seemed to fall
 Around her as she came.
Methought the very hedgerows took
 A tenderer, livelier green,
 And blossoms burst from every bud
 As she passed on between!
And gladder, madder, merrier notes
 A skylark round him threw,
 As high above her golden head,
 He poised amid the blue.{17}
I meant to tell her all my heart,
 And yet—I know not why,
 Upon the threshold of my lips
 The story seemed to die.
It might have been the witchery,
 The magic of her smile,
 That in a spell held all my soul,
 And kept me dumb the while!
It might have been that all too pure
 For earth-born love seemed she;
 From her white height of maidenhood
 How could she stoop to me?
But eyes can prove more eloquent,
 And though the tongue may fail,
 In potent language they reveal
 The old, old tender tale.
For, placing her slim hand in mine,
 Methought I heard my name
 So softly, murmurously breathed,
 I scarce knew whence it came!{18}
No need for words between us now;
 A subtle sweetness stole
 Through all our being, and we felt
 That soul had answered soul.
And with the sunshine in our hearts,
 The bird’s song in our ears,
 We left the lane, my love and I,
 To meet the coming years.
 {19}

BURIED TREASURES

’Tis true my later years are blest
 With all that riches can bestow,
 But there is wealth, wealth cannot buy,
 Hid in the mines of “Long Ago.”
There jealous guard does Memory keep;
 Yet sometimes, when I dream alone,
 She comes and takes my hand in hers,
 And shows me what was once my own.
I revel ’mong such precious things;
 I count my treasures o’er and o’er;
 I learn the worth of some, whose worth,
 Ah me! I never knew before.
And then all slowly fades away,
 And I return to things you know,
 With empty hands and tear-filled eyes,
 Back from the mines of “Long Ago.”
 {20}

AFFINITY

But little converse have we held,
 Our hands have scarcely ever met,
 With just a formal word or two
 You come and go; and yet—and yet—
 I have a dream we two were one
 Ere garb of flesh these spirits wore;
 The soul that speaks within your eyes
 Tells mine they’ve met and loved before.
And so I am content to wait,
 Knowing the day will surely dawn
 When, as the first man woke, you’ll wake
 From your soul-sleep, and looking on
 My face will know that I am she,
 Your Eve, your other self, your fate.
 Till then, till then, come weal or woe,
 I am content, content to wait.
 {21}

“MY HOUSE IS LEFT UNTO ME DESOLATE”

A little while, you say, a little while,
 And I shall be where my belovèd are;
 And with your eyes aglow with faith, you say,
 “Thy dear ones have not journeyed very far.”
“Not very far.” I say it o’er and o’er,
 Till on mine ear mine own voice strangely falls,
 Like some mechanic utterance that repeats
 A meaningless refrain to empty walls.
“Not very far;” but measured by my grief,
 A distance measureless as my despair.
 When from the dreams that give them back to me,
 I wake to find that they have journeyed there!
“Not very far.” The soul surmises, hopes,
 Has hoped, surmising, since the first man slept;
 But, oh, the heart, it knoweth its own loss,
 And death is death, as ’twas when Rachel wept.
 {22}

AN OLD MAN’S DREAM

With idle hands and misty eyes,
 I sit alone to-night and dream;
 Upon the hearth, like elfin sprites,
 The red flames dance, and twist, and gleam.
A dimness gathers in my room,
 The pictured faces on the wall
 Pale, and o’er each familiar thing
 A strangeness slowly seems to fall.
With noiseless step there comes to me,
 One whom I loved in days gone by.
 The same is she, unchanged by time—
 Unchanged—but oh, how changed am I!{23}
Her hair, which long, long years ago
 Was like spun threads of living gold,
 Still clusters round a brow that wears
 Immortal youth—and I am old.
No look of recognition lights
 Her eyes, that meet mine o’er and o’er;
 And yet she loved me once—and love,
 I know, is love for evermore.
She looks around in anxious quest;
 I think I know for whom she seeks.
 She only sees a strange old man,
 With snow-white hair and wrinkled cheeks.
And then like wings of birds that preen
 For flight, a soft stir moves the air,
 It is the whisper of her gown—
 She goes to look for me elsewhere.
A sudden glory fills my eyes,
 It is the firelight’s ruddy gleam;
 Thank God she did not pass me by
 I only saw her in a dream!
 {24}

A SUMMER WOOING

A SONG

Up and away!—up, up, and away!
 The hedgerows are foaming with blossom to-day;
 Its bonfires the golden gorse lights on the hill,
 And the wanton wind’s wooing wherever it will.
Up and away!—up, up, and away!
 The cuckoo’s name rings through the woodlands to-day;
 The warm blood of Summer runs rioting through
 The veins of each leaflet—then why not of you?
Up and away!—up, up, and away!
 There’s Passion and Poetry stirring to-day.
 Half blinded with rapture, the heavy bees dart
 From the lily’s white breast to the rose’s red heart.{25}
Up and away!—up, up, and away!
 The old world’s begun a fresh courting to-day.
 I wooed you all winter, but found you as cold
 As the snowdrift that gleamed on the ridge of the wold.
Up and away!—up, up, and away!
 Your eyes tell me “Yes,” though your lips say me “Nay.”
 The tears, so long frost-bound, are ready to flow,
 And she melts in my arms, my proud maiden of snow!
 {26}

WEE ELSIE

O’ a’ the bonny wee bit lasses
 That e’er I’ve kent, not ane surpasses
 My Elsie.
An’ oh, she has sic denty ways,
 Auld farrant a’ she does and says;
 Just watch the bairnie as she plays
 “At mither,” dressed in mither’s claes!
Like twa sweet rosebuds on ae stalk,
 Her lips part in her guileless talk;
 She hauds a key that wad unlock
 Yer heart were’t hard as granite rock.
Sae fearless are her een o’ blue,
 They seem tae look ye through an’ through;
 But though sae brave, an’ frank, an’ true,
 Wi’ happy fun they’re brimmin’ fu{27}’.
Adoun her shoulders floats her hair,
 Sae long, sae silken, an’ sae fair,—
 In truth it seems a verra snare
 That’s caught an’ kept a sunbeam there.
But better faur, those graces meet
 Aroun’ a nature just as sweet;
 Methinks the bairnie is complete
 Frae wise wee heed tae willin’ feet.
 {28}

BIDE WI’ MITHER

Oh bide a wee, my bonny lass,
 Nor seek to lea’ the auld hame-nest;
 O’ a’ earth’s luvs ye yet will fin’
 A mither’s highest is, an’ best.
She watched you like a rose unfauld,
 She reads you like an open buik;
 You scarce need speak, she is sae quick
 Tae understan’ yer ev’ry luik.
The han’ that aye fan’ time tae pat
 The wee bit face sae aft turned up
 For “mither’s kiss,” has workit late
 An’ early for your bite an’ sup.{29}
An’ oh! it was a struggle sair
 Tae mak’ twa unco scrimp en’s meet;
 In her first days o’ weedowhood
 She scarce could spare the time tae greet.
Oh dinna lea’ her yet awhile;
 The laddie’s young, an’ he can wait;
 There was a time, when you were wee,
 She micht hae had anither mate.
But she was feert he micht na be
 As guid’s the fayther you had lost;
 An’ though she could hae boucht her ease,
 She wad na’ dae it at the cost.
An’ noo she’s auld an’ growing frail,
 Your strong young arm should be her stay;
 Life’s dounward slope is hard eneuch,
 Be yours the han’ tae smooth the way.
Oh, bide wi’ her, an’ you will fin’
 That duty done brings sweet reward;
 The Maister, Christ, pleased na’ Himsel’,
 Although He was creation’s Lord!
 {30}

CHILD ANGELS

Oh, there are happy angels
 That go on missions sweet;
 They have no wings to bear them,
 Just little human feet.
When I had grown aweary,
 And all my faith was dim,
 ’Twas one of them that led me,
 And brought me back to Him.
When ’tween you and a loved one
 There lay a widening breach,
 And you were coldly drifting
 Beyond each other’s reach,{31}
 A child’s hand ’twas that bridged it—
 A child’s soft, rosy palm
 Held both your souls united,
 And life grew sweet and calm.
When sorrows closely gathered,
 And heart and head were bowed,
 The blue eyes of a baby
 Made rifts in pain’s dark cloud.
Oh, happy, earth-born angels,
 Who go on missions sweet,
 If ye had wings to bear you,
 Instead of little feet,
I fear me ye would use them,
 Altho’ ye love us much,
 To soar to Him who tells us
 His “Kingdom is of such.”
 {32}

MY LOVE OF LONG AGO

There are faces just as perfect;
 There are eyes as true and sweet;
 There are hearts as strong and tender
 As the heart that’s ceased to beat;
 There are voices just as thrilling;
 There are souls as white, I know,
 As hers was when she went from me—
 My love of long ago.
New lips are ever telling
 The tale that ne’er grows old;
 Life’s greys are always changing
 For some one into gold;
 But amid the shine and shadow,
 Amid the gloom and glow,
 She walks with me, she talks with me—
 My love of long ago.{33}
When I think of all the changes
 That the years to me have brought,
 I am glad the world that holds her
 Is the world that changes not.
 And the same as when she left me,
 She waits for me, I know—
 My love on earth, my love in heaven,
 My love of long ago.
 {34}

IN SUMMER TIME

Daisies nod and blue-bells ring,
 Streamlets laugh and song birds sing,
 To the clover bees close cling.
Cornfields wave their locks of gold,
 Poppies burn and wings unfold,
 Earth-stars twinkle on the mould.
Butterflies—live blossoms, blown
 From that Eden once our own—
 Make of every flower a throne.
And a royal purple dyes
 Yonder heather-hill, that lies
 Fitting footstool for the skies.{35}
And the gorse is all ablaze,
 Lighting up the moorland ways,
 And the days are golden days.
E’en the myriad-mooded sea
 (Earth-bound, yet than earth more free)
 Wears a look of constancy.
And your love, that in the spring
 Was a shy, uncertain thing,
 Like a bud just blossoming,
With the summer’s growth has grown,
 Till our two lives, lived as one,
 Make a summer of their own.
 {36}

TWIN-SISTERS

Two girls—before me now they stand,
 Twin tender rosebuds, hand in hand,
 Fashioned as one—scarce known apart;
 I see each face, God sees each heart.
I look on ripe red lips, and eyes
 That hold the blue of summer skies,
 And hair like finest gold refined;
 I see the beauty, God the mind.
In womanhood’s first faint sweet dawn
 Oh! they are fair to look upon;
 Perfect from crown to dainty foot;
 I see the bloom, God sees the fruit.{37}
What though a rose is each soft cheek,
 If theirs be not that spirit meek?
 What though their eyes are heaven’s own hue,
 If never wet with pity’s dew?
The plainest casket may enshrine
 A gem that will for ever shine.
 Oh, may this outward beauty be
 But type of inward purity!
God grant when Time its tale hath told,
 And backward swing the gates of gold,
 Before the Master they may stand,
 Twin tender rosebuds hand in hand!
 {38}

AT LAST

She is waiting for his coming,
 As she waited long ago,
 Ere her sweet eyes were pain-haunted
 Or her hair was touched with snow;
 Ere that look of patient pathos
 Downward curved her tender lips,
 Or across her life’s young morning
 Fell a shadow of eclipse.
He is coming—but his footsteps
 Know not now youth’s bounding grace,
 And a world of sin and suffering
 Is recorded in his face;
 Airy dreams of high ambition
 That he cherished in the past—
 All have vanished—and aweary
 He returns to her at last.{39}
In the old familiar garden
 Where he first breathed love’s fond vow,
 With new hopes, like the new roses
 Sprung from old roots, they stand now;
 And the past is past for ever,
 She forgives, and he forgets,
 For the present peace has buried
 Years of sorrows and regrets.
 {40}

TRYSTING-TIME

’Tis only when the wooing west
 Has drawn the tired sun to her breast,
 I seek my darling’s place of rest.
In twilight-time we used to meet—
 Ah me, how lag our listless feet
 When we have but a grave to greet!
And yet, this daisy-dappled grave
 So like a soft white-crested wave
 Is all beneath the skies I have.
On broken wings the years have flown,
 Oh love, since in the long agone
 I left you sleeping here alone!
 {41}

BESIDE THE DEAD

Touch not her hand, let not your tear-drops stain
 The show-white purity of her dead brow;
 Withhold your lips, their passion or their pain
 Can thrill her nor with love nor pity now.
The empty years that followed your farewell—
 The joyless dawns, the nights that brought no rest
 Are ended,—and those weary eyelids fell
 O’er eyes that had grown dim in one vain quest.
Thank God for this; her woman’s faith remained
 Steadfast, unshaken to the very last,
 And with her idol undefaced, unstained,
 To place it in a “niche in Heaven” she passed.{42}
But yesterday, your lightest whispered word
 Had thrilled her heart, as spring’s first breath awakes
 The rapture in the bosom of a bird
 Till winter’s silence with a song he breaks.
And I,—whose love for her was purified
 In the fierce crucible of human pain,
 Had felt that I was more than satisfied
 If loss of mine had ended in her gain.
For her soul’s sustenance you only left
 The memory of a lightly plighted vow,
 To take one kiss from those dead lips were theft,
 The jewel was yours,—I claim the casket now.
 {43}

HER FIRST SEASON

Cloud-like laces softly float
 Round a dainty snow-white throat—
 Fastened here and flutt’ring there
 With a careless cunning care;
 Blue-bells, blue as summer skies are.
 Or her own sweet sunny eyes are,
 Cluster close beneath her chin,
 As if love—and not a pin—
 Kept them fondly nestling in!
Gown of some transparent thing,
 Like a dragonfly’s clear wing
 Full of whispers vague and sweet,
 Falls in white folds to her feet.{44}
 Light as moss veils drape their roses,
 Round her flower-like form it closes—
 Every graceful curve it shows us.
Silken mittens soft and quaint,
 Of a shade æsthetic, faint,
 Weave a jealous network o’er
 Two pink palms that I adore;
 And a musical mixed jangle
 Comes from bracelet and from bangle
 As it fetters each slim wrist
 (Made but to be clasped and kissed),
 With fantastic coil and twist.
Hair a-ripple like ripe corn
 Wind-kissed on a summer morn.
 What, you say you see the glint
 Of a reaper’s blue scythe in’t?
 Nay, ’tis but a silver arrow
 Wand’ring through a golden furrow,
 Where the sun-shafts bore and burrow.{45}
Like a bright plumed bird is she,
 From the home-nest just set free;
 Knowing neither grief nor wrong,
 In her heart and lips a song.
 ’Tis not I would wish to make her
 Prim and drab-gown’d like a Quaker!
 All fair things are beauty’s dower—
 Doth not God’s hand paint the flower?
 (Youth is but a fleeting hour!)
 {46}

ANTICIPATED

Oh I have wealth, and could have placed
 Upon your head a golden crown,
 But Nature, having had my taste,
 And being first, has set one down.
I could have given you rubies rare,
 And sapphires of a heavenly hue,
 And pearls all shimmering soft and fair;
 But here she’s been before me too.
For ruby lips to you she’s given,
 And strung two pearly rows between,
 And sapphire eyes more blue than heaven
 She’s dowered you with, my queen, my queen!
I needs must be content to lay
 My heart’s best treasures at your feet:
 Without love’s gem, which shines for aye,
 The fairest crown were incomplete.
 {47}

WHEN THOU ART NEAR

A SONG

When thou art near no other face I see,
 Thy voice is all the music I can hear;
 My heart’s desire is granted unto me
 When thou art near.
When thou art near I am content, nay more,
 I’m blest in breathing the same atmosphere.
 To higher heights my aspirations soar
 When thou art near.
When thou art near, though yet I dare not lay
 My lips on those I hold so very dear,
 I know that heaven is not so far away
 When thou art near.
 {48}

A PORTRAIT

A sadness lingers round her lips,
 A shadow ever haunts her eyes;
 Like dusky pools are they on which
 The mystery of the moonlight lies.
Her voice is sweet, but grave in tone,
 No ring hath it of joyous mirth;
 Yet somehow when she speaks, methinks
 A benediction falls on earth.
A sense of rest her presence brings,
 She moves with such a quiet grace;
 And ’tis the pitying soul within
 Makes tender twilight of her face.
Methinks the Virgin-mother must
 Have looked like this when to her breast
 The Babe, who was to save a world,
 With mingled joy and pain she pressed.
 {49}

DOROTHY

Dorothy is debonair;
 Little count hath she or care;
 All her gold is in her hair.
And the freshness of the Spring
 Round this old world seems to cling
 When you hear her laugh or sing.
On her sunny way she goes;
 Much she wonders—little knows,
 Love’s as yet a folded rose.
All her smiles in dimples die;
 Glad is she, nor knows she why:
 Just to live is ecstasy!{50}
Lightly lie the chains, methinks,
 That have daisies for their links;
 Youth’s the fount where Pleasure drinks.
Dorothy is debonair;
 Little count hath she or care,
 Sunshine in her heart and hair.
 {51}

DAFFODILS

Oh, wild is the daffodils’ dance
 To the tune that the March pipes blow,
 Heads a-tossing—lances crossing,
 Curtsies sweeping and low.
Like waves in a flaming sunset
 They tumble, and twist, and turn,
 What tho’ from its slender pillar
 Droppeth one golden urn?
Short-lived is their joy and reckless,
 Never a pause for breath.
 Ah, well!—are we too not whirling
 As blind, in our “dance of death”?
 {52}

THE BLACKBIRD

When baby buds begin to shoot
 Then hey! the blackbird’s golden flute;
 All steeped in love seems every note
 Let loose from his mellifluous throat.
No wild rhapsodic bursts proclaim
 What rapture thrills his tiny frame,
 His heart is like a brimming cup,
 Where pearls of joy keep bubbling up.
The lark like some delirious thing
 At heaven’s far gate may soar and sing,
 But oh, methinks the blackbird brings
 Heaven down to earth what time he sings!
 {53}

“WHOM THE GODS LOVE DIE YOUNG”

Her voice is hushed, her hands are still,
 I, from the summit of the hill,
 Look down, and marvel at God’s will.
Her foot was planted at the base
 All eager for the upward race,
 Her genius shining in her face.
She felt the soul within her leap,
 She yearned to scale the steepest steep,
 And now—she’s fallen upon sleep!
God knoweth best!—I must descend
 The downward slope. Good-bye, sweet friend,
 Life’s myriad ways meet in the end.
 {54}

GRANNIE’S BAIRN

When oor wee Elspeth’s in the hoose
 I scarce hae use for hauns or feet—
 An’ after a’, why should I fash
 When she’s sae nimble an’ sae fleet?
“I wonner whaur I laid my specs!”
 The words hae haurdly left ma mooth
 Afore I fin’, across my nose,
 She has them set astride forsooth.
She threeds ma needle, winds ma woo’,
 Picks up the steeks that whiles will drap—
 She slips aboot like some wee moose
 For fear she’ll wauke me frae ma nap.{55}
Her wee three-leggit stool ye’ll aye
 Fin’ drawn up close tae granny’s chair;
 She learns her task an’ sews her seam,
 An’ sups her cog o’ parritch there.
An’ mony’s the lang crack we twa hae;
 But whiles, sic puzzlin’ things she’ll spier,
 The verra Meenister himsel’
 Waud be dumbfounded could he hear.
She has her bit camsterie turns,
 But just eneuch tae show that she
 Is no a being that is made
 O’ diff’rent clay tae you an’ me.
But that she’s no by-ord’nar wean
 The neebors roon aboot agree,
 And sae ye ken it is na just
 Ma ain opeenion that I gie.
 {56}

LOVE’S POWER

When you did leave me, love,
 The whole world seem’d with you to ebb away,
 And like a broken stranded wreck I lay.
But you returned; and lo!
 A fresh tide thrill’d my life’s deserted shore;
 And Love was conqueror over Death once more.
 {57}

A JUNE MEMORY

’Twas June, the roses were reigning
 In regalest splendour and pride.
 Sweet peas, like butterflies tethered,
 Were flutt’ring on every side.
Like smouldering fires the wallflowers
 Burned dull in the sun’s strong glow,
 And the yellow bees, like meteors,
 Went flashing to and fro.
No lordly pleasaunce was it,
 But an old-world garden wild,
 Where purple-hooded pansies
 And long-lashed daisies smiled.{58}
And there in June we parted;
 And the sad years hurtle by
 Like birds whose wings are broken
 When they just have learned to fly.
And I think,—Do you remember
 In the life that’s yours to-day,
 That garden and its glamour,
 And the time that would not stay!
Oh, amid the faces around you,
 Does one face never arise
 And for a moment hold you
 With the old spell of its eyes?
Ah no! You men forget us,
 And we!—we must be dumb.
 And life’s June goes for ever
 And the snows of winter come.
 {59}

A MESSAGE

In a little broken flower-pot
 High up on a window-sill,
 ’Mid grime and gloom and squalor,
 Grew a golden daffodil.
It seem’d in the gloom of the alley
 Like a sunbeam that had strayed
 Out from the light of heaven
 Into a land of shade.
And close in a cage beside it
 A skylark sweetly sang
 Till all the narrow alley
 With its wild rapture rang.{60}
And one poor weary sinner
 Paused, as her wild eyes turned
 To where, on its humble altar,
 The flower-flame upward burned.
And something stirred in her bosom;
 ’Twas the heart that had long lain dead,
 As the bird’s song rose from its prison
 In the shadow overhead.
God’s angels are birds and flowers,
 And oh! methinks they preach
 At times with a power and pathos
 We men can never reach.
 {61}

HER WINDOW

Up the gable the roses creep,
 Eager to get a little peep
 Behind the curtain of snowy lace
 That hangs, like a bridal veil, over the face
 Of a shy wee window, whose panes glint through
 A network of creepers, like eyes of blue.
I needs must stand below, below,
 And see them high and higher go
 Till their lips are kissing the lattice sill,
 And their tendrils toy at their own sweet will
 With the casement, so full of tender charms
 Since her shadow has lain within its arms.
 {62}

SHATTERED HOPES

This morn upon the birken tree
 The mavis carolled blithe and free;
 But—ah, his song was not for me!
Each wild note of his glad refrain
 Pierced like an arrow thro’ my brain;
 I could have cursed him for his strain.
I saw the sunshine and the flowers,
 Each proof of a Creator’s powers;
 Yet dull and hateful were the hours.
I cannot weep—the fever dries
 The tears within my burning eyes—
 The past before my vision flies.{63}
Once more I feel his deep-drawn kiss;
 Once more my being thrills with bliss;
 Once more I melt with tenderness.
I hear the trembling words that hung
 Deep fraught with passion on his tongue,
 Till heart and soul with pain are wrung.
All nature smiles—and yet to-day
 In memory’s grave I’ve laid away
 My idol that has turned to clay.
 {64}

HAND IN HAND

Hand in hand through the flow’ry ways
 Went Dora and I in the bygone days;
 A wee girl she, her boy lover I,
 Ready to fight for her and die.
Hand in hand through this vale of tears
 Went Dora and I in the after-years;
 She was my wife and her husband I
 Ready to fight for her and die.
Hand in hand to the very last
 As her dear eyes dimmed, and her spirit passed;
 An angel is she,—alone am I
 Ready, O, God! and I cannot die.
 {65}

“AND FOR THE WEARY, REST”

Of all God’s precious promises
 The sweetest and the best
 Is, that to weary laden ones
 Who come, He giveth rest.
’Tis not of glad Hosannas
 And streets of shining gold
 We think so much when we are sick
 And sorrowful and old.
Ah! there are times we feel too sad
 To contemplate the joy,
 The great and glorious themes of heaven
 That angel-minds employ.{66}
And weak, and worn, and weary,
 We long to lay us down,
 Feeling we scarce could bear the weight
 Of e’en a glory-crown.
That He is “very man,” I need
 None other proof than this,—
 That He has “rest” for those who feel
 Almost too tired for bliss.
 {67}

IN AN OLD ORCHARD

Sweet avalanches of scented snow
 Bury one deep, as I lie below
 The laden white boughs abloom and ablow
 In the dear old orchard, where long ago
 My grand-dame dreamed, as I’m dreaming now,
 With love in her heart and youth on her brow.
O, blossom-time passes too soon, too soon!
 And grey night follows the golden noon,
 And Autumn though ruddy brings ruin and rune,
 And passion ne’er warms the cold heart of the moon.
 So let me dream on, ’mid the apple-blooms sweet,
 For noontide and bloomtide are fair as they’re fleet.
And then when the blue of the sky is o’ercast,
 And Summer is ended, and harvest is past,
 And the loosened leaves earthward are fluttering fast,
 And the sleep that is dreamless is mine at last,
 O, make my grave here; and lay me to rest
 Where the sweet-scented snow shall fall light on my breast.
 {68}

BY THE SEA

I think, as the white sails come and go,
 Of the welcomes loud, and the farewells low;
 Of the meeting lips, and the parting tears,
 Of the new-born hopes, and the growing fears,
 Of the eyes that glow, and the cheeks that pale,
 As the hazy horizon’s mystic veil
 Is silently parted, and to and fro
 The white sails come and the white sails go.
And a grey mist gathers, and all grows dim
 As I watch alone by the ocean’s rim.
 For a dream is mine—ah me! ah me!
 That salt with tears is the salt salt sea.
 O, yearning eyes and outstretched hands!
 O, divided lives, and divided lands!
 As long as the waters ebb and flow
 Shall the white sails come and the white sails go.
 {69}

REGRET

“It might have been,” is the sad refrain
 That forever haunts my weary brain,
 Till heart and soul grow weak with pain.
“It might have been,” are the words I hear
 In the curlew’s cry from the lonely mere;
 In the whisper of leaves when woods are sere.
“It might have been,” says the sea’s long moan,
 As if a breaking heart of its own
 Wailed out in that strange low undertone.
“It might have been.” Ah, the hungry cry
 As the leaden years crawl slowly by!
 It will ring through my life till I die, I die.
 {70}

WAE’S ME

Aroun’ my bit bieldie the cauld win’ is soughing,
 The dull rain is patt’ring amang the deid leaves,
 The mist-wreaths are swirling about the grey mountains,
 The wee drookit birds huddle close ’neath the eaves.
Alang the bleak shore the lane sea gangs a sobbin’
 Like some wander’d bairnie that fain wad win hame,
 Aye seekin’ an’ seekin’, an’ never yet findin’,—
 Sure man, in his pilgrimage here, is the same.
The sky has nae promise, the earth hauds nae pleesure.
 I look north an’ south, an’ I look east an’ west,
 An’ I envy the folk i’ the kirk-yaird out yonder,
 For there, ’mang the mools, there is rest—there is rest!
 {71}

THE REASON WHY

I ken the lassie’s winsome,
 An’ blithe as she is braw;
 But ’tis not worth nor beauty aye
 That steal the heart awa’.
Her cheek is like the wild-rose,
 Her lips are like the haw;
 But neither ane nor t’ither ’twas
 That stole my heart awa’.
Her locks are black as midnight,
 Her brow like driven snaw;
 And yet it was na’ these I vow
 That stole my heart awa{72}’.
Her smile is like the sunshine,
 ’Twad gar an iceberg thaw;
 But ’twas na’ this by my guid-faith
 That stole my heart awa’.
Ilk lad’s lass the fairest is,
 For Beauty kens nae law;
 (Though some folk maun be easy pleased
 Wha’s hearts are stown awa’!)
Ah weel! maybe the pearl I’ve foun’
 Is no wi’out a flaw!
 But just because she’s her ain sel’
 She stole my heart awa’.
 {73}

DOWN BY THE SEA

O, mighty organ of a thousand keys,
 O’er which the Master’s fingers ever stray!
 I, listening, hear a myriad melodies
 Played in the space of one short summer day.
The long, low plash of little languid waves,
 The sweet, sad dirge of softly dying swell,
 The deep, delicious gurglings in the caves,
 Hold music that this soul of mine loves well.
Full as the human heart of mysteries,
 Like it responsive to His touch alone,
 For only He can wake the harmonies
 Which sleep within thy bosom and mine own.
 {74}

A VENTURE

Her mouth looks like a scarlet flower
 And I feel like a hungry bee,
 I long to dart straight to its heart,
 But—what would be the fate of me?
The bravest ’tis should win the prize,
 And yet I dare not risk her scorn,
 And who but knows the reddest rose
 May hide the very sharpest thorn?
Yet who can tell but she might yield
 Its sweetness up in one long kiss?
 So I, who dare not risk her scorn,
 Can risk still less to lose such bliss.
And when she feels my parchèd lips
 Athirst with long long years of drouth,
 She will forgive me, that I sought
 That dewy chalice, her sweet mouth.
 {75}

WATER LILIES

A fleet of fairy vessels
 All freighted with pure gold,
 The lilies lie at anchor
 On the lake’s breast, calm and cold.
Their soft, white sails, seem waiting
 The zephyr’s first faint kiss
 To waft them to another world,
 More bright and fair than this.
Methinks, it were no marvel,
 If I should find, one day,
 They’d drifted from their moorings,
 And in silence sailed away.
 {76}

THE SENTINEL

“Tick! tick! tick!” goes the old clock in the hall;
 The merry hours, the mournful hours
 Alike he counts them all
 As he stands erect at his post,
 Time’s solemn Sentinel.
All that he hath to say he saith,
 And on, with never a pause for breath,
 He hurries us nearer the day of death.
 Though his warning voice is ofttimes drowned
 In the whirr, as the wheels of life run round,
 Yet, whether or no we hear the sound,—
“Tick! tick! tick!” goes the old clock in the hall;
 The merry hours, the mournful hours
 Alike he counts them all,
 As he stands erect at his post,
 Time’s solemn Sentinel.
 {77}

A LOVE SONG

Upon a bosom snowy white
 A little dimpled chin drops down,
 While trembling shy lids hide the light
 Of love, new born in eyes dark brown.
A tiny timorous hand seeks mine
 For shelter, fluttering like a dove;
 And with a rapture half divine
 I burn my kisses through its glove.
June’s rosy treasures sweetly blend
 Upon her cheek and modest brow,
 But only Cupid’s self could lend
 The crimson stealing o’er them now.
Her voice makes music of my name,
 A heaven of love is in her smile,
 Her pure mind, like an altar-flame,
 Burns clear and steady all the while.
 {78}

AUTUMN

Red as blood is Autumn’s gown,
 And a flaming fire her crown.
And her fingers sere and scorch,
 Each one a destroying torch.
Fever follows in her wake,
 Nor the dews her thirst can slake.
In her kisses there is death,
 And decay in every breath.
She makes tombs of what were bowers,
 Strewn with corses of dead flowers.
To the loftiest leaves that wave
 She but whispers of a grave.
 {79}

A QUAKER MAID

Just a pair of green-grey eyes,
 With a knack of changing
 Like the sea, when shine and shower
 O’er its breast are ranging.
Just a pair of green-grey eyes
 Each one a heart-breaker,
 Who would think that they belonged
 To a little Quaker?
Prim her bonnet, drab her gown,
 And she walks sedately,
 With a sort of lily-mien—
 Drooping, and yet stately.{80}
And her voice sounds, oh, so meek!
 “Thou” and “thee” and “thying,”
 Yet the while those grey-green eyes
 Seem to be belying.
All these airs of calm repose,—
 This sad suit and sober,
 Why should Spring’s young sapling be
 Brown-leaved like October?
Gown her in the lilies’ white!
 Crown her curls with roses!
 Wreath her neck with daisy-chains!
 Fill her hands with posies!
Laughter-loving green-grey eyes,
 Young limbs girt with gladness,
 How they mock this dismal drab
 Livery of sadness!
 {81}

“THE TIME, THE PLACE, THE BELOVED.”

You and I among the roses—
 You and I and love and June—
 All without and all within us
 Set to one sweet happy tune!
You and I among the roses!
 Drowsy bees go blundering by;
 ’Mid the tresses on your temples
 Little breezes swoon and die.
You and I among the roses!
 Overhead a sapphire dome;
 ’Neath our feet a sea of emerald,
 Flecked with daisies for its foam.
You and I among the roses—
 ’Tis for love the time and place!
 What a world of rapture can be
 Crowded into one small space.
 {82}

DAY-DREAMS

I am dreaming of you, belovèd,
 In my home among the hills;
 Your eyes meet mine in every flower;
 Above the highest height you tower,
 Yet the glamour of your presence
 The lowest valley fills.
I hear your voice in the river
 That sings on its way to the sea;
 And when the wind sweeps over
 The low beds of the clover,
 ’Tis the breath of my belovèd
 Its wide wings bear to me.
I am dreaming of you, belovèd,
 But though sweet these day-dreams be,
 ’Tis the deeper dreams of sleeping
 That restore you to my keeping,
 And so the world of shadows
 Is the dearest world to me.
 {83}

SONG OF THE SEASONS

Sing, oh sing, ’tis summer time!
 Sing it ’mong the roses,—
 Sing it till each sleeping bud,
 Dewy-eyed, uncloses.
Sing it through the woodlands, till
 All the song-birds hear it!
 Sing,—till every blade of grass
 Finds a voice to cheer it.
* * * *
Sigh, oh sigh, ’tis winter drear!
 Sigh it through the flowing
 Shroud that over earth’s dead breast
 Falls in time of snowing.
Sigh it through the bare brown stems
 That once held the roses!
 Sigh it round the grave, that o’er
 Summer’s glory closes.
 {84}

ONE SUMMER DAY

The sky stretched blue above us,
 The sea slept at our feet,
 As still, as if its mighty heart
 Had almost ceased to beat.
A trembling hush seemed slowly
 Across the earth to steal,
 As when after benediction
 The priest and people kneel.
It was as though God’s finger
 Lay on the pulse of life,
 And stilled, for one brief moment,
 Its tumult and its strife.
 {85}

THE INSCRUTABLE

A glad young girl amid the sunshine flitting,
 Like a bright bird let loose from Paradise—
 A weary woman, in the shadow, sitting
 With haggard face and dry despairing eyes.
* * * * * *
The one in death’s dark chamber now is lying,
 Stricken to marble her warm pulsing breast:
 And God denies the luxury of dying
 To the sad soul whose one cry is for rest.
 {86}

DELILAH

Why comest thou with those grand eyes of thine
 To lure me as the cruel light the moth,
 To my destruction.—Long ago my wrath
 Cooled its white heat in pity’s depths divine.
There was a time when full of bitter hate
 I could have crushed thee—but that time is past,
 And tho’ I needs must love thee to the last,
 Tempt me not now—it is too late, too late.
Apart for evermore our paths must lie,
 Such love as thine can only bring a curse.
 I would be better for my love, not worse,
 So go while I have strength to say “Good-bye.”
 {87}

A BABY’S GRAVE

I could not lay her down to sleep
 In a death-crowded place,
 With grim black yews to keep God’s sun
 From shining on her face.
With softest greenest moss I lined
 For her a little nest;
 No crushing marble slab I laid
 Upon her tender breast.
Nor iron rails like prison-bars
 Her sacred form enclose,
 The sternest guardian of her grave
 Is just a fragile rose.
 {88}

A CHILD’S FAVOURITE

Only an old wooden dolly,
 With an arm and a leg a-missing,
 The point of her nose rubbed off, I suppose,
 Through too much washing or kissing.
In a frock of faded satin,
 With tinsel lace tarnished and tattered;
 Her “coal-scuttle” bonnet holds, alas!
 A head that’s a trifle battered.
Oh, no, she has not lost her locks,
 She never had curls black or golden;
 A doll’s wig was safely painted on
 In the days that you call “olden.”
You laugh, and think her “too funny;”
 Yet once she was just as much cherished
 As your dolly is—by a wee girl
 Whose dolly-days long ago perished.
 {89}

RICH OR POOR?

Only a string of cold white pearls,
 Or diamond drops, like frozen tears,
 Has clasped my lady’s slender neck
 Through all the barren empty years.
Only wee warm white baby arms
 Have clasped my neck thro’ the sweet years;
 Yet she is rich and I am poor—
 Or so it to the world appears.
 {90}

DOLLY’S GARDEN

This is Dolly’s garden,
 All her “very own,”
 Every flower that’s in it
 By her hand was sown—
 Never out of Eden
 Were such blossoms blown.
Like her eyes those pansies,
 Deep and dark and blue—
 As her soul those lilies,
 Pure and white and true;
 Frail earth-flowers and fading—
 Dolly’s fading too.
This was Dolly’s garden,
 Here I stand alone,
 Dolly’s tending blossoms
 Near the Great White Throne:
 Dolly now has heaven
 For her “very own.”
 {91}

IN A DREAM-SHIP

She sailed away one summer day
 In a ship of shining shell:
 Her cloak was a butterfly’s gauzy wing,
 Her bonnet a big blue-bell,
 Her bed was a lady’s slipper,
 Her blankets the leaves of a rose,
 And a cushion of thistledown had she,
 Just to rest her tiny toes.
With golden oars from the earth’s dark shores
 She was borne o’er a silver sea;
 And she never feared as the captain steered
 For the land where she wished to be.
And this was the song,
 As they drifted along,
 That she sang from the ship of shell{92}—
 “Oh, we are bound
 For enchanted ground;
 It’s there that the fairies dwell.”
But a storm swept over the silver sea,
 And the little maid awoke
 As against the side of the fair frail barque
 A cruel billow broke;
 And she rubbed her eyes, and she pinched her arm,
 And fearfully peeped around;
 But instead of a ship “for fairyland”
 She had boarded a “homeward-bound.”
 {93}

THE FLOWER-QUEEN’S FALL

A rebel rose climbed to the top of the hedge,
 And watched the people go up and down
 The winding highway, dusty and grey,
 That stretched from the village away to the town.
And an anger surged in her passionate heart,
 ’Gainst the humble garden where she was born,
 And her red lips curled at the old flower world,
 And she cast around her such looks of scorn
That the lilies drooped ’neath her withering glance,
 And the pansies huddled together with fear,
 And the poor pinks paled, and each daisy quailed,
 And dropped from her lashes a big round tear.{94}
For of the flower-kingdom this rose was queen,
 And never were subjects more loyal than they—
 And they fondly dreamed she was good as she seemed,
 And because they had loved they were proud to obey.
But lo! as she towered in haughty disdain
 High over their heads, with an angry gust
 The wind swooped down and tore off her crown,
 And its jewels went whirling away with the dust.
 {95}

A VETERAN

In his niche in the hall, the old clock stands,
 But hushed is his voice, and still are his hands.
 He ceased from his labours long years ago,
 And he’s only a “pensioner” now, you know.
He did his duty as long as he could,
 For a brave heart beat in his breast of wood,
 And you could depend on all he said
 Till age, at last, turned him queer in the head.
With a visor of glass o’er his grim old face,
 In his armour,—a straight, stiff, oaken case,
 He “stands at ease” in his sentry box,
 And leaves time-telling to younger clocks.
 {96}

TO A BUTTERFLY

Butterfly, O butterfly,
 With gaily-jewelled wings,
 You make me think of fairy folk
 And of enchanted things.
You once were held a prisoner
 In a castle grim and grey—
 A “chrysalis” folk called it—
 But you escaped away.
And now you flutter ’mong the flowers,
 A restless roving elf,
 Or fold your wings and lie so still—
 A very flower yourself.{97}
Or hoisting high two gauzy sails,
 You softly float away,
 Just like a tiny fairy barque
 Bound for a fairy bay.
The bees must work, the birds must sing,
 The flowers yield perfumes rare;
 But you were born a trifler,
 Frail thing of light and air!
 {98}

WHEN AND WHERE

I wonder “when” and I wonder “where”
 The Angel of Death will come,
 And, laying a finger on lids and lips,
 Will strike me blind and dumb.
I wonder “when” and I wonder “where”!
 Like the skeleton at the feast,
 ’Mid laughter and mirth this thought finds birth
 Where it is welcome least.
I wonder “when” and I wonder “where”—
 In my prime or old age hoar,
 At home, with my loved ones round my bed,
 Or alone on an alien shore.{99}
I wonder “when” and I wonder “where!”
 Is God not over all?
 He knows the time and He knows the place
 Who marks a sparrow’s fall.
 {100}

WHEN LOVE IS YOUNG

The red and russet of Autumn die,
 In the lap of winter their ashes lie,
 And the earth is wan and grey the sky.
But the noon of a wondrous joy is mine,
 And my pulses thrill with the glowing wine
 That flows from the grape of Love’s deathless vine.
What care have I that the brown stems bear
 Nor leaf nor bloom, and the mad winds tear
 The last poor tatters the forests wear?
Is not the heart in mine own glad breast
 A garden of roses, a haven of rest,
 A bird that has builded a warm love-nest?
 {101}

A CHARACTER SKETCH

Womanly-sweet in all her ways,
 Slow to condemn, and swift to praise;
 Ready to help in hour of need,
 Generous in thought as well as deed.
Pitiful, tender, yet firm and strong
 To uphold the right and put down wrong;
 Never a thought of self or gain,
 Proud of her God-given gifts—not vain.
Laughter-loving, and fond of fun,
 When the “daily round” and task are done;
 Modest and maidenly, yet no prude;
 Perfect enough, but not “too good.”
Half an angel, yet wholly human;
 No ideal—a living woman.
 {102}

FRIENDS

We are such friends, my little girl and I,
 That, though her summers number scarcely nine
 I need none other, as I go my ways
 With her small fingers closely clasping mine.
A little world we two make of our own,
 And people it with all things fair and sweet;
 The stars that twinkle overhead at night
 Drop down at dawn in daisies at our feet.
My smiles are hers;—my tears are all my own,
 I keep my sighs and give her all my song,
 Because she is so trusting and so weak
 I feel that I can suffer and be strong.{103}
The while I try to keep the narrow way,
 ’Tis wide enough for both. And my white dove,
 With untried wings, knows little love but this,
 That “Mother” is another name for “Love.”
 {104}

BED-TIME

The sleepy daisies have said “Good night,”
 And tied up their wee frilled nightcaps tight.
 The summer day’s been hot and long
 And daisies, although they are so strong,
 Are always tired and ready for bed
 Ere the stars, heaven’s daisies, awake o’erhead.
The roses have rocked themselves to sleep.
 Awake they could no longer keep—
 They’ve been astir since the dawn of day,
 Sighing their sweet perfume away,
 And feeding the hungry beggar bees
 That never say “thanks” nor “if you please!”
And, baby darling, ’tis time that you
 Had shut your drowsy eyes of blue—
 Wee busy hands, wee busy feet
 Must rest sometime, you know, my sweet—
 The flower-bells all have chimed “Good night.”
 They’ll ring to wake you with the light.
*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK A SPRAY OF LILAC ***
Updated editions will replace the previous one—the old editions will be renamed.
Creating the works from print editions not protected by U.S. copyright law means that no one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation (and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without permission and without paying copyright royalties. Special rules, set forth in the General Terms of Use part of this license, apply to copying and distributing Project Gutenberg™ electronic works to protect the PROJECT GUTENBERG™ concept and trademark. Project Gutenberg is a registered trademark, and may not be used if you charge for an eBook, except by following the terms of the trademark license, including paying royalties for use of the Project Gutenberg trademark. If you do not charge anything for copies of this eBook, complying with the trademark license is very easy. You may use this eBook for nearly any purpose such as creation of derivative works, reports, performances and research. Project Gutenberg eBooks may be modified and printed and given away—you may do practically ANYTHING in the United States with eBooks not protected by U.S. copyright law. Redistribution is subject to the trademark license, especially commercial redistribution.
START: FULL LICENSE
THE FULL PROJECT GUTENBERG LICENSE
PLEASE READ THIS BEFORE YOU DISTRIBUTE OR USE THIS WORK
To protect the Project Gutenberg™ mission of promoting the free distribution of electronic works, by using or distributing this work (or any other work associated in any way with the phrase “Project Gutenberg”), you agree to comply with all the terms of the Full Project Gutenberg™ License available with this file or online at www.gutenberg.org/license.
Section 1. General Terms of Use and Redistributing Project Gutenberg™ electronic works
1.A. By reading or using any part of this Project Gutenberg™ electronic work, you indicate that you have read, understand, agree to and accept all the terms of this license and intellectual property (trademark/copyright) agreement. If you do not agree to abide by all the terms of this agreement, you must cease using and return or destroy all copies of Project Gutenberg™ electronic works in your possession. If you paid a fee for obtaining a copy of or access to a Project Gutenberg™ electronic work and you do not agree to be bound by the terms of this agreement, you may obtain a refund from the person or entity to whom you paid the fee as set forth in paragraph 1.E.8.
1.B. “Project Gutenberg” is a registered trademark. It may only be used on or associated in any way with an electronic work by people who agree to be bound by the terms of this agreement. There are a few things that you can do with most Project Gutenberg™ electronic works even without complying with the full terms of this agreement. See paragraph 1.C below. There are a lot of things you can do with Project Gutenberg™ electronic works if you follow the terms of this agreement and help preserve free future access to Project Gutenberg™ electronic works. See paragraph 1.E below.
1.C. The Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation (“the Foundation” or PGLAF), owns a compilation copyright in the collection of Project Gutenberg™ electronic works. Nearly all the individual works in the collection are in the public domain in the United States. If an individual work is unprotected by copyright law in the United States and you are located in the United States, we do not claim a right to prevent you from copying, distributing, performing, displaying or creating derivative works based on the work as long as all references to Project Gutenberg are removed. Of course, we hope that you will support the Project Gutenberg™ mission of promoting free access to electronic works by freely sharing Project Gutenberg™ works in compliance with the terms of this agreement for keeping the Project Gutenberg™ name associated with the work. You can easily comply with the terms of this agreement by keeping this work in the same format with its attached full Project Gutenberg™ License when you share it without charge with others.
1.D. The copyright laws of the place where you are located also govern what you can do with this work. Copyright laws in most countries are in a constant state of change. If you are outside the United States, check the laws of your country in addition to the terms of this agreement before downloading, copying, displaying, performing, distributing or creating derivative works based on this work or any other Project Gutenberg™ work. The Foundation makes no representations concerning the copyright status of any work in any country other than the United States.
1.E. Unless you have removed all references to Project Gutenberg:
1.E.1. The following sentence, with active links to, or other immediate access to, the full Project Gutenberg™ License must appear prominently whenever any copy of a Project Gutenberg™ work (any work on which the phrase “Project Gutenberg” appears, or with which the phrase “Project Gutenberg” is associated) is accessed, displayed, performed, viewed, copied or distributed:
This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere in the United States and most other parts of the world at no cost and with almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org. If you are not located in the United States, you will have to check the laws of the country where you are located before using this eBook.
1.E.2. If an individual Project Gutenberg™ electronic work is derived from texts not protected by U.S. copyright law (does not contain a notice indicating that it is posted with permission of the copyright holder), the work can be copied and distributed to anyone in the United States without paying any fees or charges. If you are redistributing or providing access to a work with the phrase “Project Gutenberg” associated with or appearing on the work, you must comply either with the requirements of paragraphs 1.E.1 through 1.E.7 or obtain permission for the use of the work and the Project Gutenberg™ trademark as set forth in paragraphs 1.E.8 or 1.E.9.
1.E.3. If an individual Project Gutenberg™ electronic work is posted with the permission of the copyright holder, your use and distribution must comply with both paragraphs 1.E.1 through 1.E.7 and any additional terms imposed by the copyright holder. Additional terms will be linked to the Project Gutenberg™ License for all works posted with the permission of the copyright holder found at the beginning of this work.
1.E.4. Do not unlink or detach or remove the full Project Gutenberg™ License terms from this work, or any files containing a part of this work or any other work associated with Project Gutenberg™.
1.E.5. Do not copy, display, perform, distribute or redistribute this electronic work, or any part of this electronic work, without prominently displaying the sentence set forth in paragraph 1.E.1 with active links or immediate access to the full terms of the Project Gutenberg™ License.
1.E.6. You may convert to and distribute this work in any binary, compressed, marked up, nonproprietary or proprietary form, including any word processing or hypertext form. However, if you provide access to or distribute copies of a Project Gutenberg™ work in a format other than “Plain Vanilla ASCII” or other format used in the official version posted on the official Project Gutenberg™ website (www.gutenberg.org), you must, at no additional cost, fee or expense to the user, provide a copy, a means of exporting a copy, or a means of obtaining a copy upon request, of the work in its original “Plain Vanilla ASCII” or other form. Any alternate format must include the full Project Gutenberg™ License as specified in paragraph 1.E.1.
1.E.7. Do not charge a fee for access to, viewing, displaying, performing, copying or distributing any Project Gutenberg™ works unless you comply with paragraph 1.E.8 or 1.E.9.
1.E.8. You may charge a reasonable fee for copies of or providing access to or distributing Project Gutenberg™ electronic works provided that:
• You pay a royalty fee of 20% of the gross profits you derive from the use of Project Gutenberg™ works calculated using the method you already use to calculate your applicable taxes. The fee is owed to the owner of the Project Gutenberg™ trademark, but he has agreed to donate royalties under this paragraph to the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation. Royalty payments must be paid within 60 days following each date on which you prepare (or are legally required to prepare) your periodic tax returns. Royalty payments should be clearly marked as such and sent to the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation at the address specified in Section 4, “Information about donations to the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation.”
• You provide a full refund of any money paid by a user who notifies you in writing (or by e-mail) within 30 days of receipt that s/he does not agree to the terms of the full Project Gutenberg™ License. You must require such a user to return or destroy all copies of the works possessed in a physical medium and discontinue all use of and all access to other copies of Project Gutenberg™ works.
• You provide, in accordance with paragraph 1.F.3, a full refund of any money paid for a work or a replacement copy, if a defect in the electronic work is discovered and reported to you within 90 days of receipt of the work.
• You comply with all other terms of this agreement for free distribution of Project Gutenberg™ works.
1.E.9. If you wish to charge a fee or distribute a Project Gutenberg™ electronic work or group of works on different terms than are set forth in this agreement, you must obtain permission in writing from the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation, the manager of the Project Gutenberg™ trademark. Contact the Foundation as set forth in Section 3 below.
1.F.
1.F.1. Project Gutenberg volunteers and employees expend considerable effort to identify, do copyright research on, transcribe and proofread works not protected by U.S. copyright law in creating the Project Gutenberg™ collection. Despite these efforts, Project Gutenberg™ electronic works, and the medium on which they may be stored, may contain “Defects,” such as, but not limited to, incomplete, inaccurate or corrupt data, transcription errors, a copyright or other intellectual property infringement, a defective or damaged disk or other medium, a computer virus, or computer codes that damage or cannot be read by your equipment.
1.F.2. LIMITED WARRANTY, DISCLAIMER OF DAMAGES - Except for the “Right of Replacement or Refund” described in paragraph 1.F.3, the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation, the owner of the Project Gutenberg™ trademark, and any other party distributing a Project Gutenberg™ electronic work under this agreement, disclaim all liability to you for damages, costs and expenses, including legal fees. YOU AGREE THAT YOU HAVE NO REMEDIES FOR NEGLIGENCE, STRICT LIABILITY, BREACH OF WARRANTY OR BREACH OF CONTRACT EXCEPT THOSE PROVIDED IN PARAGRAPH 1.F.3. YOU AGREE THAT THE FOUNDATION, THE TRADEMARK OWNER, AND ANY DISTRIBUTOR UNDER THIS AGREEMENT WILL NOT BE LIABLE TO YOU FOR ACTUAL, DIRECT, INDIRECT, CONSEQUENTIAL, PUNITIVE OR INCIDENTAL DAMAGES EVEN IF YOU GIVE NOTICE OF THE POSSIBILITY OF SUCH DAMAGE.
1.F.3. LIMITED RIGHT OF REPLACEMENT OR REFUND - If you discover a defect in this electronic work within 90 days of receiving it, you can receive a refund of the money (if any) you paid for it by sending a written explanation to the person you received the work from. If you received the work on a physical medium, you must return the medium with your written explanation. The person or entity that provided you with the defective work may elect to provide a replacement copy in lieu of a refund. If you received the work electronically, the person or entity providing it to you may choose to give you a second opportunity to receive the work electronically in lieu of a refund. If the second copy is also defective, you may demand a refund in writing without further opportunities to fix the problem.
1.F.4. Except for the limited right of replacement or refund set forth in paragraph 1.F.3, this work is provided to you ‘AS-IS’, WITH NO OTHER WARRANTIES OF ANY KIND, EXPRESS OR IMPLIED, INCLUDING BUT NOT LIMITED TO WARRANTIES OF MERCHANTABILITY OR FITNESS FOR ANY PURPOSE.
1.F.5. Some states do not allow disclaimers of certain implied warranties or the exclusion or limitation of certain types of damages. If any disclaimer or limitation set forth in this agreement violates the law of the state applicable to this agreement, the agreement shall be interpreted to make the maximum disclaimer or limitation permitted by the applicable state law. The invalidity or unenforceability of any provision of this agreement shall not void the remaining provisions.
1.F.6. INDEMNITY - You agree to indemnify and hold the Foundation, the trademark owner, any agent or employee of the Foundation, anyone providing copies of Project Gutenberg™ electronic works in accordance with this agreement, and any volunteers associated with the production, promotion and distribution of Project Gutenberg™ electronic works, harmless from all liability, costs and expenses, including legal fees, that arise directly or indirectly from any of the following which you do or cause to occur: (a) distribution of this or any Project Gutenberg™ work, (b) alteration, modification, or additions or deletions to any Project Gutenberg™ work, and (c) any Defect you cause.
Section 2. Information about the Mission of Project Gutenberg™
Project Gutenberg™ is synonymous with the free distribution of electronic works in formats readable by the widest variety of computers including obsolete, old, middle-aged and new computers. It exists because of the efforts of hundreds of volunteers and donations from people in all walks of life.
Volunteers and financial support to provide volunteers with the assistance they need are critical to reaching Project Gutenberg™’s goals and ensuring that the Project Gutenberg™ collection will remain freely available for generations to come. In 2001, the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation was created to provide a secure and permanent future for Project Gutenberg™ and future generations. To learn more about the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation and how your efforts and donations can help, see Sections 3 and 4 and the Foundation information page at www.gutenberg.org.
Section 3. Information about the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation
The Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation is a non-profit 501(c)(3) educational corporation organized under the laws of the state of Mississippi and granted tax exempt status by the Internal Revenue Service. The Foundation’s EIN or federal tax identification number is 64-6221541. Contributions to the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation are tax deductible to the full extent permitted by U.S. federal laws and your state’s laws.
The Foundation’s business office is located at 809 North 1500 West, Salt Lake City, UT 84116, (801) 596-1887. Email contact links and up to date contact information can be found at the Foundation’s website and official page at www.gutenberg.org/contact
Section 4. Information about Donations to the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation
Project Gutenberg™ depends upon and cannot survive without widespread public support and donations to carry out its mission of increasing the number of public domain and licensed works that can be freely distributed in machine-readable form accessible by the widest array of equipment including outdated equipment. Many small donations ($1 to $5,000) are particularly important to maintaining tax exempt status with the IRS.
The Foundation is committed to complying with the laws regulating charities and charitable donations in all 50 states of the United States. Compliance requirements are not uniform and it takes a considerable effort, much paperwork and many fees to meet and keep up with these requirements. We do not solicit donations in locations where we have not received written confirmation of compliance. To SEND DONATIONS or determine the status of compliance for any particular state visit www.gutenberg.org/donate.
While we cannot and do not solicit contributions from states where we have not met the solicitation requirements, we know of no prohibition against accepting unsolicited donations from donors in such states who approach us with offers to donate.
International donations are gratefully accepted, but we cannot make any statements concerning tax treatment of donations received from outside the United States. U.S. laws alone swamp our small staff.
Please check the Project Gutenberg web pages for current donation methods and addresses. Donations are accepted in a number of other ways including checks, online payments and credit card donations. To donate, please visit: www.gutenberg.org/donate
Section 5. General Information About Project Gutenberg™ electronic works
Professor Michael S. Hart was the originator of the Project Gutenberg™ concept of a library of electronic works that could be freely shared with anyone. For forty years, he produced and distributed Project Gutenberg™ eBooks with only a loose network of volunteer support.
Project Gutenberg™ eBooks are often created from several printed editions, all of which are confirmed as not protected by copyright in the U.S. unless a copyright notice is included. Thus, we do not necessarily keep eBooks in compliance with any particular paper edition.
Most people start at our website which has the main PG search facility: www.gutenberg.org.
This website includes information about Project Gutenberg™, including how to make donations to the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation, how to help produce our new eBooks, and how to subscribe to our email newsletter to hear about new eBooks.