'Twixt Earth and Stars: Poems

It is sweet in the afternoon, With just the breath of a breeze, If the time be the month of June And the birds sing low in the trees.

And the mind has a pleasant thought, And the heart has a fond desire, And the soul is a tissue wrought Of youth, and it's golden fire.

And the limbs are both clean and strong, And able to rest with joy, And our time in the world is long, With nothing that can destroy

The rapture of God's green earth, The throb and the ecstasy That springs into life with birth, And lives through eternity.

To ——

Dear heart! I was going away, Could you not have spared me an hour Of all your bountiful day? No moment, no word, no flower To keep; not even a tear? My soul was so thirsty, dear!

Love Triumphant

Ere the first grief was born Love was. And after griefs are gone Love still shall triumph on. Ere the first grief was born Love was.

In Eden grief became Love's slave. For in the dust and woe Lost Adam still could know Fond recompense, and so Did grief become Love's slave.

My Rose

A Rose! but what can it say, So tender, and sweet, and dumb; What part of my love convey, What thrill of the joys to come?

I send it, but how shall you, Dear heart, ever understand That rapturous tear of dew, It drops on your strong white hand?

Or know that my lips have pressed Those petals until they blush, Or feel that my heart has blessed The flower that your touch may crush?

If Only

Oh! if one could only learn not to care, To be utterly indifferent storm or fair; And to say there's always pain With the joy, I don't complain, For the sunshine draws the rain Everywhere.

Oh! if one could only learn not to feel; To be absolutely callous, false or real; And to let the world go by, With a laugh to cap its sigh, With a jest to meet its lie, Cold as steel.

Confession

Within the portals of thy shrine Before thy presence, dearest mine, I kneel, beseeching thee to bless My penitence, while I confess, And can a saint do any less?

If I have sinned as others do, All human hearts the wide world through Are erring things, and then with me My greatest wrong was loving thee, Wilt thou condemn my constancy?

Look down, dear heart, and let thine eyes Commend my soul to Paradise. He little sins, who sins in this That to obtain eternal bliss Seeks the communion of a kiss.

But a moment since and the sun was shining Over the hills that I see from my room. And now the rain and the mist come driving Out of the West, in a cloud of gloom. Over the woods, and meadows, and gardens, Hurries the storm like the hand of Doom.

But a moment hence and the clouds shall vanish; Breaking and drifting and all asunder. And lo! in their midst will the sky be lying Calm and blue with a peaceful wonder Nothing may alter, though sorrow and tempest Torture the Earth, as she trembles under.

My Love

My love is a bird with a broken wing, Alone in a stormy night; My love is a lark that forgets to sing And dies with the morning light.

My love is a rose that the wind has torn, And crushed with a breath of pain; My love is song with the sweetness gone, A tune with a lost refrain.

My love is a ghost that has missed its way, A spirit from Heaven cast; My love is a joy of a bygone day, The soul of a burning past.

For in my heart there is a space Whose door you closed to me, Locked in the memory of your face; Then took away the key.

To ——

What you deny me, you gave; You cannot take it again In life and after the grave There is something that even then, Death will not kill or destroy, It is so with the hearts of men.

Even your pride cannot rob My life of its blessed past; You cannot recall one throb, One glance of the many cast From those dear, passionate eyes; These things will be mine to the last.

On the Mountain

Below and above, yes, over and under us, Swift clouds hover, and speed and fly; Nothing we see that can hurt or sunder us Here in the arms of the circling sky.

Surely we two must belong to each other, Silently mated where none are nigh Save God our Father, and Earth our Mother, And sweetest of all, dear,—You and I.

To ——

When she turns aside to pass us by, With a little smile or a glance only We are all alone, my Heart and I, We are all alone, and very lonely.

The Prayer

There stood beside the road a shrine, In whose quaint, vaulted shadow smiled With eyes of tenderness divine, The Blessed Virgin and Her Child.

And I, who wandered all alone, Along a rough and weary way, Felt that a great desire had grown Within my heart, to kneel and pray.

But lo! my voice had lost the power To utter words so deep and sweet, And so, I breathed them in a flower, And left it, at the Virgin's feet.

If

If all the words you spoke, dear, Were every one untrue, There can be nothing good, dear, In earth, or sun, or dew; And all the world's a lie, dear, Because of you.

If all the smiles you gave, dear, Were only to beguile, Why then there's nothing sweet, dear, In any human smile; And what we deem most fair, dear, Is only vile.

If every kiss that lingered Upon the lips you pressed, Was but an empty token, More fickle than the rest; I wish that I had died, dear, For death were best.

A Lament

Like a song that is sung, like a tale that is told, The life in me hushes the voice of its gladness; Youth walks by my side, but his hands have grown cold, And deep in his eyes lurks the shadow of sadness.

Alas! for the flowers that never come to me; Alas! for the morning again, now day closes; The joy of a love is as nothing, for through me There passes the deep-wounding thorn of the roses.

To ——

The wind's on the hill, The sun's on the lea, The lark's on the wing And the dawn's on the sea, And the rapture that springeth of Love, is on me.

Thoughts

Ah! the kiss of the sweet night air, And the still, deep eyes of the cloudy skies, Grown dim with peace: Peace, the angel of death, that is everywhere.

Ah! the bliss of the soul at rest, And of eyes that weep growing calm in sleep, Hushéd by night: Night, the shadow of death, that in blessing is blessed.