-f' 10

Bl'GU'v H-',--`717;'
vff
. ....

'_r4_

iv

We-

MV&

RrPigfits altb Depftys.

HEIGHTS AND DEPTHS

POEMS

BY
UNA M. MARSON

WITH AN INTRODUCTION BY
SIR WILLIAM MORRISON, KT.

PRINTED BY THE GLEANER CO., LTD.,
KINGSTON, JAMAICA, B.W.I.

iL/f

.9
A? 3'!
iIY/3
-9~ I

By the same AuIthor'
Orvpir RIttwrito

All Rights Reserved.

TO
THE MEMORY OF
MY BELOVED MOTHER AND FATHER,
AND TO ALL THOSE WHO LOVE BEAUTY
AND WHO LOVE LOVE,
I DEDICATE THESE
POEMS.

"As high as we have mounted in delight
In our dejection do we sink as low."
Wordsworth.

INTRODUCTION BY
SIR WILLIAM MORRISON, KT.

The Title of this excellent Book of Poems is
strongly indicative of the poetic temperament of its
Author as, with varying degrees of light and shade,
she takes you up to dazzling heights, and then brings
you down with startling rapidity to the lowest depths
of dejection and despair. But there is a strong note
running throughout which breathes a spirit of hope
and confidence, and so the ultimate effect is to leave
the Reader in a glad frame of mind refreshed and
invigorated by the inspiration he has received.

I like the simplicity of language in which all
these verses are couched, the lilt and tone which run
so smoothly, and the absence of any artificial striving
after effect, all of which produce a fine harmonious
whole.

The poems are in three groups, and deal with
Nature, Love, the passing of time and the peculiar
beauties and joys of our Island Home. I like well
the character sketch of "The Peanut Boy," the beauty

VII

and pathos of "Heights and Depths," (from which
the volume is named), and the refreshing touch of
"The Nameless Flowers." But they are all good and
full of interest, and my hearty congratulations and
warmest thanks are tendered to Miss Marson for the
delightful entertainment she has given me and the
privilege which I have been afforded in writing this
Introduction.

A 4L. C

VIll

AUTHOR'S FOREWORD.

The warm reception accorded my first book of poems
has encouraged me to present to the public a second
volume.
I wish to thank all those who have so generously ex-
pressed their appreciation of my efforts in this direction,
and trust that they will find further pleasure in "Heights
and Depths"; and particularly Mr. J. E. Clare McFar-
lane, Secretary of the Poetry League for Jamaica, who
has always advised and encouraged me.
I am deeply indebted to Mr. Astley Clerk and Mr.
W. J. Masterton without whose very practical assistance
it would have been impossible for me to carry through
both publications.
UNA M. MASON.
Kingston,
Jamaica, B.W.I.
September, 1931.

CONTENTS.

POEMS OF NATURE:
'Tis June .
Discord .
Sunshine and Rain
The Speedwell
The Coming of the Raindrops
Nature's Heart .
Confidences
The Rivals .
The Approach
The Meeting of the Clouds .
Gold of the Cassia
The Nameless Flowers
Jamaica .
A Moonlight Reverie .
POEMS OF LOVE:
The Captive
A Great Love
The Call .
I Care Not .
Dreaming .
Communion
Would You? .
A Complaint
Unawares .
Heights and Depths
The Letter .
Greed .
The Heart's Cruelty
A Dream .
Resignation .
Ethereal
Ecstasy
Forgetfulness
Some Day .
The Ingrate
Love's Eclipse
Pleading
To-
Poverty .

PAGE

3
* 4
5
6
7
9
10
12
14
15
16
17
19
20

27
30
31
32
33
34
35
36
37
38
39
40
41
42
43
44
45
46
47
48
49
50
51
52

CONTENTS- (Continued)

MISCELLANEOUS POEMS:
My Hope .
Respite .
The Passing of the Year
A Mother's Cry .
To Molly .
Friends .
Henry's Ambition
Invocation .
Waiting .
The Breath of Morn
Fostered
Joy Cometh ....
Sad Songs .
Thanksgiving .
The Peanut Boy.
To .
To Poesie .
Another Mould .
A Little Prayer .
To Mothers .
Conflict .
The Little Guest.
In Jamaica .
Refuge .
Reasoning .
The Snare .
To My Sister
Time .
My Heart is Sad .
Songs of Jamaica
Perhaps .
The Tidal Wave .
There Will Come a Time

55
S 56
S 57
S 58
S 60
62
S 63
. 64
S 65
S 66
S 67
S 68
S 71
S 73
S 74
75
S 76
S 77
78
79
S 80
81
S 82
.83
84
85
86
87
S 88
89
90
91
95

PAGE

POEMS OF NATURE.

'TIS JUNE.
0 my heart be glad and sing,
For 'tis June!
List the music song-birds bring,
All in tune;
See the roses rich and rare,
Smell the fragrance everywhere,
O what joys beyond compare
Come in June!

DISCORD.
How can ye be merry, ye songbirds,
And sing such glad songs all the day,
When my heart is a-weary, a-weary,
And cannot respond to your lay?
How can ye be merry ye blossoms
And sweet fragrance breathe on the air,
When your perfume can only remind me
Of things that awaken despair?
How can ye be merry, ye wild winds?
I hear your bright laughter and shout,
When all my sad heart is a-wailing,
With grief and unrest tossed about?
How can ye be merry, ye sunbeams,
And proudly display your white crest,
When billows and tempests within me
Forbid any friendlier guest?
How can ye be filled with gay laughter,
Ye days of sunshine and good cheer,
When there is no gladness within me,
And gloom dwells with me everywhere.
O, break through the darkness within me,
Fond love of my heart with a smile,
For the birds and the flowers are calling,
And I am so weary meanwhile.
They will not be sad or be dreary,
They are calling for me to come home,
But how can I go, my beloved,
O how can I greet them alone?
Your sweet smile their splendour enhances,
Your love keeps my heart all in tune,
O, come, for Fair Nature is calling,
0 Love, I am here and 'tis June!

SUNSHINE AND RAIN.
How lovely the sun shines forth
After rain;
How fair are the joys that come
After pain.
How sweet are the flowers that bloom
After rain;
How tender the heart doth grow
After pain.
How quickly the fruit grows ripe
After rain;
How swiftly the soul finds gain
After pain.
How rich is the taste of the fruit
After rain;
How large is the heart of God's child
After pain.

THE SPEEDWELL.
I love the little speedwell flowers
That grow beside my door,
They close their eyes and go to sleep
Just as the clock strikes four.
But at the songbird's waking cry,
They open their blue eyes,
Eyes bluer than the ocean's breast,
And fairer than the skies.
One day the busy honeybee
Came just at break of day,
The speedwells had scarce ope'd their eyes
Ere he was on the way.
"Awake, awake, my loves," he said
And gently kissed each,
"I love your eyes of dainty blue,
You rob my heart of speech."
Then, with a promise to return,
He on his errands went,
The speedwells laughed and whispered low,
"This has been some event."
"He has not been to us for weeks
He has so many loves,
But how can we resist his charms
Though often far he roves?"
And then they laughed and danced about
The while I loved them more,
I hope that I shall always see
Fair speedwells at my door.

THE COMING OF THE RAINDROPS.
For months my poor flowers were drooping,
All brown with the heat of the day,
They lived for the soft dews of night time,
To soothe the bright sun's scorching ray.
I lovingly coold them at evening,
When I had a few drops to spare,
But often they sighed for the raindrops
That unto their hearts were so dear.
One eve, as I wandered among them,
They seemed in a mood of delight,
"Lift up your fair heads," said the Lily.
"The raindrops are coming tonight."
And soon the news spread thro' the garden,
The wee violet popped out her head,
"Are the raindrops coming to greet us?
Oh I am so happy," she said.
I looked at the sky, it was cloudless,
A crescent moon shone from above,
The flowers all seemed very happy,
And sang of bright laughter and love.
I was glad that they all were so happy,
And I kissed them a tender goodnight,
As I came to the Lily she whispered,
"Madam, have you seen the fair sight?"
"Look up at the horns of the crescent,
What do you see sparkling there?
Why, the raindrops all glisten already,
They will come before morn, so prepare!"
I rejoiced with them all as we parted;
And I prayed that their vision was true,
But I slept with my windows all open,
I feared not the rain nor the dew.
I woke at the call of a wee voice
Which whispered, "My lady, beware,
The cool crystal raindrops would kiss you,
So draw close your curtains,-take care."

Before I had opened my eyelids,
I felt some cold drops on my face,
And I heard the wild rose at my window
As she sighed at their loving embrace.
And now since His Rain came to cheer them,
There's never a sigh or a tear,
Every flower is happy and cheerful,
And no one has ever a care.
They dance every day in the sunlight,
And talk of that wonderful time
When the raindrops returned to caress them,
And gave them that glorious sign.
And the raindrops have promised the flowers
Never to linger so long,
But to woo them and love them more often,
And cheer their fond hearts with a song.

NATURE'S HEART.
Give me a life of indolence and ease
Close 'to the heal t of Nature. When I please,
Let me revisit man's relentless mart
And feel the pulse of her swift throbbing heart.
Let me be free to wander by yon stream,
And sit beneath the trees and dream and dream
With song of birds to soothe my heart's dull pain,
And join the rushing river's sweet refrain.
And let me listen while the dainty flowers
Whisper and laugh away the golden hours,
And learn from them how they such fragrance give
Although so brief a time on earth they live.
Let me adore the beauty of a tree
So graceful and so full of majesty,
And learn the secret that to birds belong
How I may lift life's burden with a song.
Oh give me heaven's blue above my head,
And fragrant wild flowers on a mossy bed;
And when I seek again life's busy mart,
May Nature's peace sustain my fevered heart.

CONFIDENCES.
It was a perfect day in perfect June
When evening shadows come, alas, too soon;
I had been wandering in the woods all day,
And now upon a mossy bank I lay,
When, lo! two birds upon a flowering tree,
Who sought its shade, no doubt, for privacy,
Conversed in this wise, though it was quite clear
They had no wish that I should overhear.
Said the Old Squire, "Look there, my love, look there,"
The dame replied, "Look where, my love, look where?"
"There on the grass beneath us," he replied,
And most suspiciously my form he eyed.
Then drawing up himself to his full height,
Quite satisfied that he had seen aright,
He drew a little closer to his wife,
And thus he mused upon this human life.
"Do you remember, love, that dusty town
Where creatures of this kind rush up and down,
With faces worn and sad and weary eyes
That find no joy and comfort in the skies?
"How grieved we were for them! It seems to me
That this fair creature, longing to be free,
Sought our fair woods, but she is dead, is dead,
Indeed she is my love; look at her head."
"She is not dead, but sleeps," the dame replied,
"Poor, toilworn creature," and she deeply sighed,
And brushed away a tear from her bright face
That of sad tears had never worn a trace.
"Cheer up, dear heart, cheer up," the Old Squire said,
"And since she sleeps and is not really dead,
Let's sing a roundelay to fill her dreams
Of these fair glades and yonder merry streams."
And then they ministered to me in song,
Such cadences as unto them belong;
Sweet melodies straight from the heart of God,
Sent down to cheer us as thro' life we plod.

Oh, I could thus have lain a thousand years,
And eased my broken heart with joyous tears,
Could these fair minstrels sing their plaintive song
To me, whose soul had hungered for so long.
How quickly deepest joys forever end!
How soon we lose the comfort of a friend!
A thoughtless move, and lo, this kindly pair
In but a flash had vanished in the air.
It was their wish that I should never know
From whence the music to my heart did flow,
That I should wake with music in my soul
And yet not know the source from which it stole.
0, gentle Minstrels, your sweet plaintive lay
Has soothed my heartache, borne my cares away,
For this sweet peace which never shall depart,
Accept my love and deeply thankful heart.

THE RIVALS.
The sea and I are lovers,
All through these changeful years,
In times of merry laughter,
In days of bitter tears.
We have long talks together,
We sing full many a song,
But, oh, sometimes we quarrel,
Altho' we know 'tis wrong.
Last eve I walked beside him,
He was in merry mood;
In sweetest tones he wooed me,
And all the world seemed good.
But as the hour grew later,
My footsteps I retraced;
What was it caught my vision,
And all beside effaced?
A sunset such as never
Had caught my eyes before,
I longed for power to hold it
In view forevermore.
I walked on as a dreamer
Who treads enchanted ground,
Or as a child enraptured
With toys but newly found.
The glory of that vision!
It thrilled me thro' and thro,'
Would that I had the power
To bring it into view.
But oh, the sea grew jealous,
And murmured all the way
Because he thought the sunset
Might steal my heart away.

12

I told him that the sunset
Would never come again;
He grumbled that his beauty,
Would in my heart remain.
I said it would, but whispered,
"You know my love is true:
What, if fair sunsets thrill me?
My love, I've chosen you!"

THE APPROACH.
The flowers have heard
That June is near,
The little bird
With plumage fair
Has told the flowers
To beware
And deck their bowers,
And prepare
For June draws near.
And all around
The signs I see,
Rich buds abound;
The June-rose tree
All in her haste
In flower will be,
(Which is bad taste
You will agree,)
Ere June we see.
The birds are glad,
The flowers are gay,
Since they have had
Long hours for play.
And so am I,
For with each day
The fields and sky
Are shouting "May!
'Tis June-Away!"

THE MEETING OF THE CLOUDS.
One day upon the soft green grass
I lay in idle mood,
The sunshine glittered on the leaves,
All things to me seemed good.
The sky bore but two fleecy clouds,
One east, the other west,
And each seemed lonely wondering there,
And full of vague unrest.
And as I watched, these fleecy clouds
Towards each other drew,
And in what seemed a moment's space,
How close to each they grew.
Then, in one eager breathless rush,
They melted into one;
And lingered but a moment there,
And were forever gone.
The sky became a cloudless blue,
I turned towards the sea,
And bore with me a tender thought
Of you, dear heart, and me.
E'en so our souls would fain unite
In one long, fond embrace,
And slip from off this weary earth
To some ethereal place.
But now our bodies intervene,
Yet there will come a time
When, as the clouds became but one,
Your soul will join with mine;
In some fond place where spirits meet,
We shall know endless joy,
No weariness of earth and flesh
Shall then our peace annoy.

GOLD OF THE CASSIA.
Come, feast with thine eyes, and store in thy heart
Treasures that fade yet never depart,
Gold from the heart of God straight into thine,
Gold that is thine for the taking, and mine.

THE NAMELESS FLOWERS.
Flowers! the Sun and Moon and stars of Earth!
I love them dearly, whatever they be named,
Pansies and Pinks, Asters, Hollyhock, Rose,
The dainty Black-eyed Susan as it grows,
Twining its slender stem about the herbs
That grow along the wayside and in woods.
The dainty Periwinkle, pink or white,
I love them all, and in the busy mart
I buy me flowers for my little room.
A week ago I bought some blossoms rare,
The loveliest bunch that ever I had seen.
The stems were long and slender and the flowers
Were rich in gold, and red as dark as wine:
Some petals glowing richer still in gold,
While others were more wine with golden fringe.
O, they were lovely! As I held them close,
A ragged beggar, very old and grey,
Came near, and gazed at them in awe,
And smiling, said, "What pretty flowers, Miss."
I smiled and said, "Yes, they are very sweet."
"What be they called?" she further questioned me,
"I know not," I replied, and then I looked
Intently at the wrinkled face of her
Whose heart was warmed and cheered at such a
sight.
She might have seen full eighty summers here.
What blossoms and what thorns had strewn her
path
I knew not. Now she stood in strange delight.
She did not ask for alms as might have been
Her first intent, the flowers had blest her heart.
I ventured a small gift, she smiled again,
And thanked me in her deep and mellow tones-
(I think she once possessed a heavenly voice).
Then she moved on and I could hear her sigh,
"What lovely roses," as she joined the throng.
As I stood lost in thought, another came,
A solemn faced old man who lost a leg
In fighting for his country and his King.
He leaned upon the crutch beneath his arm,
And gazed upon my flowers for a while.

And then, as though recalling I was there,
He touched his hat, and asked me for their name.
I told him I knew not, and he moved on
More pleased than when he first came by that way.
I took the car for home, and there I set
My golden flowers in two dainty jars.
The stems were all so long, they leant and kissed
Each other 'cross the mirror's tell-tale face.
And so I had them with me for six days,
A double portion, they and their reflection.
How many hearts they cheered before they came
Into my hands, I know not, but I know
tThat two had smiled that might have been yet sad
Save that their beauty touched a tender chord
Within those hearts that had been pierced by thorns.
And as for me, what need is there to tell?
I buy me flowers for my little vase
Instead of other things I sometimes need.
I must have flowers, any flowers at all,
So that they come from God's artistic Hand.

JAMAICA.
J ust a lovely little jewel floating on fair Carib's breast,
A 11 a-glittering in her verdure neathh a blazing tropic
sky.
M ust have been a part of Eden, it's so full of peace and
rest,
A nd the flowers in their splendour make you feel it's
good to die
I n a spot that's so near heaven where one never feels
depressed,
'C ause Dame Nature makes you lazy and Dame Fortune
lingers nigh,
A nd you feel just like a fledgling in your mother's cosy
nest.

A MOONLIGHT REVERIE.
Weary of life and all my heart's dull pain,
I left my lonely room and sought to gain
Brief respite somewhere out beneath God's sky,
And urged my heart the open road to try.
Late was the hour, the moon, now growing old,
Had long since risen; the stars were none too bold
As though, in fond allegiance to their Queen,
They wished that all her glory should be seen;
And so they faintly glimmered here and there
Like scanty Daisies seen in meadows fair,
The lovely Queen enjoyed her short reign,
Proud of the love of all her starry train.
The tropic sky wore not the smallest cloud,
In voiceless sound her beauty cried aloud.
"Fair moon," thought I, "there on thy glorious throne,
Dost thou not tire of being all alone?
Here is another, but she is no Queen
No throne is hers, and no worlds has she seen,
No golden crested servants on her wait,
And she has never slept at heaven's gate;
But lonely is she now like unto thee,
And so to-night she seeks thy company.
Queen of the realms on high, tho' thou dost reign
And art content thus ever to remain
In lonely state with no King at thy side,
Nor dost thou weary of thy tedious ride,
I know that thou art sad, and oftentimes
Thou hidest thy pale face from earth's sad crimes;
Thou see'st lovers kiss beneath the shade,
And seek fair loved ones over hill and glade;
Thou see'st when one wearies of the way,
And how these fickle hearts change day by day.
But be not weary of me, for tonight
I seek thy love and thy fair guiding light."
Methought she answered sweet and tenderly:-
"I see thy heart is sad, come thou with me,
And this thy heavy load shall lighter be.
If thou be constant thou shalt surely know
Great things for thy soul's good that I will show;

Only be patient, and forget thy grief,
And soon to thee will come a full relief."
And I took courage, opened wide my eyes,
"Look round about thee," Queen Moon whispered low,
For close to thee are things thy heart should know."
With almost noiseless tread I paced the ground
For fear of losing aught by noisy sound.
Some tall and graceful trees came into view;
To these I turned my tired heart anew,
And there beside the noisy street they slept,
No little wind among them rudely crept.
Amid the noise of horns and passing feet,
Serene they slept, caressed by pale moonbeams,
Lost to all sound-a sleep that knew no dreams.
At morn they would awake to feel 'the kiss
Of jealous sunbeams, which in perfect bliss
Would gambol all the day, forgetful still
That all their untamed heat made leaflets ill;
And tho' they frolicked and seemed glad at heart,
They were not sorry with such love to part.
The lesson came: These trees all bear the heat
And burden of the day, but night is sweet;
And always they add splendour to the day.
What silent eloquence! What fine display!
They soothe with loveliness earth's dreary eye,
And give their shade to travellers passing by.
"How well they do their part," the Queen Moon said.
"How well," I answered, and I bowed my head.
The lesson conned, I sought to find the next.
No longer was my heart forlorn and vexed.
I had not long to wait, for soon I saw
What tears of sorrow to my eyes did draw.
A woman placed both hands upon her head
And wept as one who mourned a loved one dead.
Great choking sobs now swayed her slender form
As some deep sorrow unto her was born.
I sought for some solution to her pain,
And very soon the truth to me was plain.
While I walked slowly, just before me strolled
A couple who some secret did unfold
Which wakened anxious thoughts: this I could see

From the strained voice of one in agony.
Now as I saw this woman weeping there,
I called to mind again the unknown pair,
And as I moved my eyes from her pale face,
I saw her lover who with quickened pace,
Moved on and left her desolate and sad
As tho' she had lost everything she had.
A tempest roared within her aching breast,
A mighty struggle filled her with unrest.
Grown weak with grief, she sat upon the bank,
And into further sobbing there she sank.
A moment passed, then up she sprang as tho'
The storm had ceased, and all her woe
Had gone in that dark hour. A flash of light
Had shone upon her path: and now she ran
As tho' her very life were with the man
She sought to overtake. I turned, and lo,
I saw her hand steal round his form, and so
They passed into the night.

Then came to me
Thoughts, clear and plain as they could be,
Of man, the victor, woman, vanquished still,
Who to his thraldom bends her every will.
I thought of all the talk about the sexes
The women with equality complexes-
And then I saw before me plain and clear
Eternal man-eternal woman fair.
But still I sought the lesson to be learned,
And did not find and so once more I turned
To my wise guide, and thus she made reply:-
"For thy heart's good on these wise words rely:-
Woman is born to eat the bread of sorrow
To weep today, and know no glad tomorrow.
It is her privilege. Dost thou forget
That, tho' the Mother of our Lord, yet
Mary's heart with grief and tears was torn
E'en from the moment that her Son was born?
What agony like unto hers was there,
Who saw her Child stretch'd on the cruel cross,
With crown of thorns, and feet and hands each pierced

With bloody nails, His face in suffering veiled!
How often since have weary mothers wept
O'er some belov'd son, and vigil kept
For prodigals who still no more return
E'er the dim lamp of life has ceased to burn!
How many women at this very hour
Are filled with anxious thoughts, and deeply pray
That lover, husband, child may mend his way?
Until the earth shall cease shall woman lay
Her all at manhood's feet and seek in vain
Love constant firm and true from him to gain.
It is her lot. Be thou content-love on
And always welcome him. When he is gone
In vanity some conquest fresh to make,
Console thyself, let not thy lone heart break.
Know thou that God, who formed and fashioned thee,
Gave thee a heart to love, a mind to serve
And never from this noble purpose swerve.
For sorrow is the torch that lights the way
To God-and man will follow thee or stay
Content amid the houses he can raise,
And give himself all glory and all praise.
Fear not to love: to love is always right
So that thy heart be pure. The beacon light
Thou see'st comes from God's own hand to Thee,
And thou wilt see, when sorrow's stormy blast
O'erwhelms thy troubled life, if thou hold fast,
The light shall brighter shine thy soul to lead,
And unto this some wanderer will give heed.
Woman thou art: rejoice in sorrow's hour
That God to thee hast given this great power
To suffer and to love tho' oft unloved;
To give and seek for naught; to be reproved,
And tho' not guilty, still for love's dear sake
Accept the wrong and all the burden take.
Man may be master of the land and sea,
And even of thy heart may keep the key,
But unto woman comes alone the joy
Of shielding in her form a girl or boy.
A blessing on thy heart: rejoice, be glad,
Thank God for womanhood and be not sad."

I raised my head, and tears were in my eyes
That cast a dreary shadow o'er the skies.
But not of sorrow were the tears that came,
But joy that to the world I would proclaim.
I homeward turned enriched with heavy thought
Of all that now had come to me unsought.
These lessons I would keep within my breast,
And, henceforth they would bring me peace and rest.
But lo-another still remained.
The smell
Of jasmine flowers sweet came to foretell
That nearby grew the plant I used to love
When long among the flowers I would rove.
I saw it growing near and scanned the ground
For some small flower-but one at length I found,
Crushed by a tread. I gathered it in haste,
And, oh, what fragrance! what exquisite waste!
Two petals had been lost; those that remained
With dust and earth and passing feet were stained;
But it was sweeter far than any flower
That on that tree had blossomed but an hour.
I mused awhile.
My Queen smiled down at me.
"I need not tell thee aught for I can see
That thou dost understand," she softly said.
Tears filled my eyes again, I bowed my head
And whispered low, "0 Queen, I am content
With whatsoever unto me is sent,
If, being torn and bruised and tossed about,
And sometimes crossed by burdens, guilt and doubt,
I to the world can still some fragrance give.
For this alone oh Queen, now let me live!"
Long was it e'er sleep came to close my eyes;
I pondered o'er these lessons from the skies,
I pressed the bruised blossom to my breast;
The lessons of the Queen had brought me rest.
"Oh God," I prayed, "how wondrous are Thy ways
The Universe must ever hymn Thy praise;
The broken heart Thou wilt forever bind
And ways to comfort Thy frail children find.
Accept my thanks for Nature's fond caress,
And with Thy peace my wayward spirit bless.

POEMS OF LOVE.

THE CAPTIVE.
Alas, how hapless was this fate of mine
Thus to be ruled by legions of pale imps
Who, at their King's command, had stormed my heart,
Torn down my battlements, and caused me thus
To live in bondage like a fettered slave!
How loyal were these soldiers to their King!
They cared not if the chains about me hurt;
In loyalty to him they pressed me sore:
But this their King was kind in very truth.
One day I heard him sternly chide the guard:-
"Slaves are not made of wood and stone," he said,
And, 0! his voice fell on my hungry ears
Like that of lover unto one beloved.
My guard then kinder grew, and I forgot
That there were chains about my throbbing heart.
Then my captivity grew very sweet,
Till I began to fear that this kind King
Might one day bid his soldiers set me free;
Aye, feared that freedom unto me would come;
For, though they broke the fetters round my heart,
I knew I should not flee-who flees from light?
Flee? when as captive I had stormed the gates
Of heaven, and felt the kiss of fleecy clouds
Upon my lips, and drank their honeyed dews.
O! in that bondage there was life for me,
And in my freedom death. For oft the King
Came down to see how well his captive fared.
He came today, and though my eyes were bright
With unshed tears, my face was radiant still
With happiness that bore no sign of grief.
He seemed less proud today than he was wont.
He was perplexed, and so, in gentle tone
He sought to know the secret of my joy.
The eyes of all his imps still brighter grew
To hear the gentle sweetness of his voice.
My guard commanded me to heed the King
And answer make; but I was silent still,
For in their presence would I naught unfold.
The King divined my thoughts, and gave command
That all his imps retreat into their tents.

And then he knelt, and with his own dear hands
Undid the chains that bound me, and my heart
Almost forgot its use when I beheld
How soft and gentle his proud face had grown.
Then he held out his hands to me, his slave,
And thus he spoke in accents soft and sweet:-
"My lovely slave, how cruel I must seem
Now in thine eyes. I must confess
That I had thought to see thee pine away,
Grow paler day by day, and then at length
Petition me to set thee free. But here,
In captive bonds, thy life seems sweet to thee:
Thou art more fair than on that dreary day
When first I looked upon thy tear-stained face.
Tell me what secret spring doth feed thy soul?
From whence this bloom of roses in thy cheeks,
Those smiles that speak to me of rosy dawns?"
He ceased, and looked at me full tenderly.
I tried to hush the tumult in my breast
That kept my lips from speech, then made reply:-
"I know not what was in that heart of thine
That thou didst seek to keep me here in bonds;
For thee I have not wronged, except it be
That once I looked upon thy face too long.
If thou hast sought to feed thy endless pride,
To reap the fruits of conquest by the sight
Of my pale face and dark imploring eyes,
Thou hast failed sadly; for life unto me
Has sweeter grown since now thy slave am I.
I had not lived until I saw thy face,
And as thy captive now I can behold
Thy form and press my lips unto the ground
On which thy feet have trod. Now I can hear
Thy voice in golden tones of cold command,
Mark thy proud visage which my love transforms
To something Godlike.
One fear alone is mine-
That thou wilt one day set this captive free.
Then whither shall I go in all the world
Which needs must darkened be if thy fair face
Therein I shall not see?" And all the love
Which long had been concealed within my breast

Burst forth. I clasped my hands about his feet
And cried with all the anguish of my soul:-
"0 King, thou wilt not, wilt not set me free?"
I ceased, my heart overwhelmed with anxious thought,
And, for reply, he raised me from the earth,
And kissed my lips with such sweet tenderness
That in his arms I swooned. When I awoke,
Around me I beheld no longer imps
But fairies four who ministered to me,
And smiled at me with large and wistful eyes.
And soon their King a sign made unto them;
Then two came forward with a crown of gold
Like that he sometimes wore upon his head
And placed it in his hands: he gazed at me,
His eyes more tender grown, and placed the crown
Upon my head. "My Captive Queen," he said,
"Canst thou forgive?" and kissed me once again
More gently than before. "My King," I sighed,
And now I did not swoon.

A GREAT LOVE.
I asked the gods to send a wondrous love
To wake my soul and lift my heart above;
I was impatient at the long delay,
And in deep earnest did my young heart pray.
This great love came, but brought with it unrest
With peace and calm no longer was I blest;
Within my heart a mighty tempest rose,
But on this love the door I could not close.
Then to the gods I prayed and sadly said,
"I asked a wondrous Love, but now instead
Pain and unrest have my full heart undone,
Could ye not grant me then this love alone?"
The answer came, "Such love we never give
To mortal souls that on this fair earth live
Unless they ask: have therefore thou no fear,
Since thou desirest, thou hast strength to bear.
"The gods have honoured thee in granting this;
These sorrows are but partners in thy bliss,
Hadst thou known love alone, thou wert not fit
Among the fair immortal souls to sit."
I dried my tears and clasped the fragrant rose
With all its thorns; then softly I arose,
And blessed the gods for such a gift divine;
May love, with all its pain, be ever mine.

THE CALL.
Friends have been here,
But I'm lonely,
Friends who are kind,
Sweet and true;
Glad smiling faces
Surround me,
But I just sit thinking
Of you.
Thinking just how
You are faring,
Wondering who shares
Your smile,
Alone, or with friends
In the gloaming,
My thoughts travel
Many a mile.
O! love of my soul
Thro' the distance
Can't you hear my heart
Calling thine?
Send me an answer
Beloved,
Whisper to me
Love of mine.

I CARE NOT.
I care not for the sunshine
or for the silver rain,
I care not for the flowers
that still to me remain,
I care not for the moonlight
or for the evening Star,
I care not for the zephyr
that cometh from afar.
I care not for life's wonders
unless thou smile on me,
For in thy smile the beauty
of all the world I see.

DREAMING.
Sitting by my window
Looking at each flower,
Dreaming dreams about you
All this sunlit hour;
Birdies come a-singing,
Bees are on the wing,
Sunbeams round a-playing
Tempt my heart to sing.
Shall it be a sonnet
To your lovely eyes?
Or a lithesome lyric
Of the deep blue skies?
Or the wondrous beauty
Of a budding rose,
And the tender fragrance
That she doth disclose?
O I'm sure I'm puzzled,
Don't know what to do,
Think I'll leave the writing
And just dream of you;
Dream I see your dear eyes
In the blue above,
And I hear you calling
As the birds make love.
But the streets grow noisy,
Folks rush on to work,
Better quit my dreaming
For I mustn't shirk;
But when day is over
Stars shine through the blue,
Then I'll sit a-dreaming
Lovely dreams of you.

COMMUNION.
I love beyond all times the silent hours
At eve, when pale stars glimmer in the sky,
And we two sit among the fragrant flowers
And watch the moon rise calmly up on high.
Those golden hours when you hold my hand
And our glad hearts are far too full for speech,
As our twin souls commune, I understand
What heights in silence mortal souls can reach.

WOULD YOU?
If you knew my heart was hungry
for one tender word from you,
If you knew my lips were thirsty
as the roses for the dew,
If you knew my eyes were turning
to the crimson sunset sky,
And my life was passing from me
in each deep and broken sigh,
Would you come to me beloved
hold my trembling hand and say,
"Little one, I love you truly,
let me cheer your lonely way,"
Would you speak kind words of comfort,
fill my heart and bid me live?
Would you come to me beloved,
even one smile would you give?

A COMPLAINT.
I was content with life until you came
And smiled on me,
Now life can nevermore be just the same;
For now I see
Bright stars that I had never seen before,
And oft I hear
Sweet silver-throated mock-birds at my door,
And yet I fear
My heart shall never be content again
With less than thee;
O wherefore couldst thou not refrain
From loving me?

UNAWARES.
Last night I passed your window
As oft I've done before,
The usual light was burning
And closed was every door.
I've never seen your shadow,
Not even through the glass,
I've never heard your footsteps
Tho' I so often pass.
But I find joy, beloved,
In being near to you
And wishing I could linger
To guard you all night through.
And ere I turn my footsteps
Upon my homeward way,
I leave my longing spirit
To guard you until day.

HEIGHTS AND DEPTHS.
We have known the heights together,
I have known the depths alone;
We have joined in merry laughter,
But the tears have been mine own.
Ah, to reason thus, how selfish,
Hast thou not thy vale of tears
And thy hidden depths of anguish
Thro' the ever:lengthening years?
Yet we linger on the hill-tops,
And we part as we descend
Strengthened thus to seek the valley
All alone, without a friend.
Ah! the heights grow still more lofty
Since we two go hand in hand,
But alone the depths grow deeper;
Yet we seem to understand.
There are words too sad for sounding,
There are thoughts too deep for speech,
But no heights too high for climbing
And no depths too low to reach.

THE LETTER.
I've written you a letter,
I wrote it days ago;
But now I think it better
The sending to forego.
It lies among my treasures,
I've read it through again;
I will not send it to you,
Because it might give pain.
And so I send this poem,
Since we must be apart,
To tell you I still love you
As I did from the start.
These words are often spoken,
So you will be at rest
And never know the tumult
That rages in my breast.

GREED.
I have most everything to make me glad:
A cosy little room with fairest view,
Friends, books, and flowers, yet my heart is sad
Because I still need you.

THE HEART'S CRUELTY.
What sayest thou my heart? Wilt thou not yield
To my control? Or thus rebellious still
Wilt thou toss from my hand this iron shield
And leave me captive to thy fickle will?
What pleasure dost thou find in subtle pain?
Why dost thou counsel take of cruel grief?
My flesh is weary, and my feeble brain
Cries out to thee imploring some relief.
Yield thou for pity's sake-be not unkind,
Or wilt thou seek to take my very breath?
If so I prithee, faster measures find,
And let me feel the welcome kiss of death:
Yield, or thy leave of me forever take,
For life is death the while I feel this ache.

A DREAM.
"I arise from dreams of thee..."
Shelley.
Last night beloved one, I dreamt
That in some Paradise
We roamed, and unto us was sent
The peace that has no price.
A bower built by fairies' hand
Was ours and ours alone,
There never was a fairer land,
Or more exquisite home.
The perfume of the lovely rose
Pervaded all the place,-
And when the lonely moon arose,
We met in fond embrace.
No wish for aught beside had we-
We felt no earthly need,
From all life's burdens we were free
We had won heaven's meed.
Then I awoke-and felt the pain
That pierced the heart of Eve
When, thrust from Eden, the vast plain
She wandered through at eve.
O fitful fancy's fatal flight!
O dreams that wake my heart
To sorrows dark and dreary night,
Come ye not back, depart.
Why mock me thus? I thee implore;
Where didst thou find the key
With which to ope again this door
And wake my memory?
Oh peaceful Death, thy kiss I seek,
Come, free my prisoned soul,
For love so strong has proven weak,
Life's billows o'er me roll.
Come, and make life an endless dream:
No more may I awake-
But in oblivion's dark stream
This hapless fate forsake.

RESIGNATION.
Last night when you said you had to play bridge,
And asked me if I liked the game,
For a moment it pained me and somehow I thought
That my darling was not just the same.
Play bridge! when each fibre of my aching heart
Yearned just for the touch of your hand,
When naught that the world could give to me then
Could grant me my soul's demand?
What madness came o'er me that made me forget
That only in dreams you are mine-
Altho' from the moment when first we two met,
My heart has been sealed as thine.
Forgive me, beloved; whatever you do
My full heart must praise and condone,
Since out of the great world I have chosen you
And set you as king on my throne.

ETHEREAL.
Because I love you more than it is given
To mortal souls to love beneath the heaven,
I needs must go above where love supreme
Pervades the heart and is a waking dream.
Because I love you so, the gods I'll sue
That this unearthly flame your soul embue
So that you cannot rest on earth but come
And join me there in that ethereal home.

ECSTASY.
Today you smiled on me and since that hour
My heart has been enriched a thousandfold;
Today I heard your voice and every flower
Since then my tale of happiness has told.
Today I saw your lovely laughing eyes,
Since then, naught but their radiance have I seen;
Today you held my hands, and from my skies
Vanished the gloomy clouds that there had been.
Today I saw you after many days,
Saw you to whom my heart's love doth belong,
And, 0, the joy I find in life's dull ways
As my glad heart keeps singing love's old song.
Today I saw you for a little while
And heaven on earth I find within your smile.

FORGETFULNESS.
Methinks that somewhere underneath God's sky
There must be waiting still a little spot,
Where I shall ease the burden of each sigh
And where all haunting strains will be forgot.
Methinks that somewhere there must be a heart
That lacks completeness since I am alone;
A heart that must be restless thus apart
And all this wealth of love should fully own.
Methinks that somewhere there must be a soul
That wanders on in dreary solitude,
Seeking in vain the love that can console
And even now with saddened heart doth brood:
Methinks that fate holds wealth for all in store
But often she forgets to ope the door.

SOME DAY.
Some day you will grow weary of my love,
And so forsake this constant heart of mine
That cherishes no other thought above
This love for you which seems to me divine.
Some day, your face now tender with love's smile
Will sullen grow, dispassionate and cold,
And you will murmur in your heart meanwhile,
"It wearies me that she should be so bold."
Some day, 0 bitter thought, you will forget
That my great love once moved your tender heart,
And once-what bliss, in fond embrace we met
As though the world should not keep us apart:
For constancy to man is grave unrest
Although it nestles calm in woman's breast.

THE INGRATE.
My life in love is rich beyond compare,
Far richer than my feeble worth doth claim,
Since Good Dame Fortune has not made me fair,
Nor am I blest with wisdom's noble name.
My life in love is rich, where'er I go
True tender hearts have opened unto me,
And made me humble, such fond love they show
To one whose deepest love they hold in fee.
My life in love is rich, and I am blest
With kindness that enriches more than gold,
And I should be more happy than the rest
Or else an ingrate prove of blackest mould-
And yet my life in love is poor indeed
Since fate withholds from me the love I need.

LOVE'S ECLIPSE.
Your love failed from my sky so suddenly
That darkness such as comes before the morn
Would seem as light to that which came to me
When thus you left me lonely and forlorn.
And like a child who leaves a lighted room
For one unlit, finds all at first more dark
Then gradually there fades the deeper gloom
And fixtures here and there his eyes can mark;
My changed world that seemed so black at first
To my accustomed eyes has lighter grown,
I do not fear the dark, nor am I curst
Since I can claim fond memory for my own:
O grief! though thou hast changed my day to night,
Thou still doth send this star to give me light.

PLEADING.
Unlearn me how to love thee, love of mine,
Give me once more the happiness I knew
Ere my unknowing eyes gazed into thine
And to my soul's sweet calm I bade adieu.
Unlearn me how to love thee, set me free,
Ease thou the burden of my restless heart
And give me once again tranquillity;
The days seem years, the nights fresh grief impart.
Unlearn me how to love thee, to forget
The haunting melody of love's refrain
And all the world that lies in thee, and yet
When I forget how shall I live again?
Unlearn me how to love thee, though I die,
Death is a welcome kiss to such as I.

TO ...
I love you for what I know you could be
I hate you for what you are,
May I hope that some beautiful day I shall see
My glow-worm transformed to a star.

POVERTY.
What can I bring to thee-what have I yet?
Yea, answer make-thou who dost come to me
With love so deep and strong, draw near and let
Me list again the music of thy plea.
How should I answer thee? For I am poor,
The riches of my love were spent in vain,
Thou bringest me thy heart's own wealth in store
Shall I bring thee the ashes that remain?
And dost thou hope to find therein a spark
Rekindled by thy true and steadfast love?
That will burst forth and so dispel the dark
And dreary damps 'mid which I sadly rove?
It may be that thou wilt, I cannot tell;
For sad and lonely hearts make dull the brain,
And since my sorrow doth not thee repel,
Thou mayst tune my heart to love again.
Then, if thou must be answered, here's my heart,'
The home of grief and sorrow and dull fear,
And since thou art content we will not part;
The strength of thy great love shall mine repair.

MISCELLANEOUS POEMS.

MY HOPE.
I do not hope that some day I shall write
A poem whereon all mankind shall look
And pause in wonder as they close the book
And marvel at the grandeur of the flight;
Nor do I hope to be among the few
Whose works are lauded by the great and wise,
But do not bind the heart by simple ties,
Nor simple human faith within renew.
Nay, rather, may my hope be something more,
Some simple songs that steal up from the heart,
Born of great love, great longing and great pain,
That humble souls who have but little lore
May feel therein a comrade's teardrops start,
And clasp a hand that presses theirs again.

MY HOPE.
I do not hope that some day I shall write
A poem whereon all mankind shall look
And pause in wonder as they close the book
And marvel at the grandeur of the flight;
Nor do I hope to be among the few
Whose works are lauded by the great and wise,
But do not bind the heart by simple ties,
Nor simple human faith within renew.
Nay, rather, may my hope be something more,
Some simple songs that steal up from the heart,
Born of great love, great longing and great pain,
That humble souls who have but little lore
May feel therein a comrade's teardrops start,
And clasp a hand that presses theirs again.

RESPITE.
Think not my life is sad
Because in minor strain
My songs must flow to thee;
Deep peace and joy remain.
When that I am distressed,
My harp I take in.hand,
And in these soulful songs
I reach a happier land.
And then I rest my harp
With all my griefs forgot,
I toil and smile awhile,
Whate'er may be my lot.
And when new griefs appear,
And my heart hurts again,
My faithful harp and I,
We sing our plaintive strain.

`THE PASSING OF THE YEAR.
Old Year, thou art dying,
Would I were too;
Soon should I be lying
Close beside you.
Old Year, thou art dead,
Would I were too;
But the New Year has said
There's work yet to do.

A MOTHER'S CRY.
And he is dead, my child, my only son,-
Aye, dead indeed, and for these ten long years
I have not seen his face nor heard his voice,
Nor put my arms about his tender form
And drawn him to my hungry longing breast.
Cold in his early grave
He lies, my well beloved son has gone
Whom ten years since I left a tiny babe,
Left him my darling child with many tears.
Oh, heart of mine, how didst thou undertake
So hard a task, to bid farewell to one
So tender and so sweet? Oh, woeful day
When I unclasped those tiny baby hands
Which clung to me, amidst the blinding tears
I could not stem; oh why did I persist?
Why did I not grow weak and answer 'No,'
Stay with my infant child, my first born son
Or bear him with me o'er the restless seas?
And now thou'lt never know, my darling child,
That love for thee (a mockery now it seems),
Bore me away from thee to unknown lands,
Where night and day my thoughts have been of thee.
The sleepless nights I passed in waking dreams
When oft I felt your baby fingers cling
So eagerly to me! How oft at dawn
I seemed to hear your tender, birdlike coo!
How long the years have been, how dark and drear!
How often have I sat alone in tears,
And wished and longed to hold you in my arms,
My babe whose infant cry was sweetest music
To mine ear, mine own fair son, whose life
For one short year, one glorious, lovely year
Was nourished, cherished, tended by these hands!
Oh God, and thou wilt never know my kvb,
Ne'er prove a Mother's heart of sacrifice:
For thou art dead, my child, my only son,
When my fond dreams had to fruition come,
And I should clasp thee to my breast again.
A few short months and I should see my babe

To splendid boyhood grown, him for whom
Both day and night I laboured, prayed and planned.
No, nevermore shall I behold his face,
Or hear him call me Mother. Oh, my God,
My heart cries out in anguish unto Thee,
The child Thou gavest me Thou hast recalled.
Maybe because I failed Thy trust to me,
Failed hopelessly when thus I went away
E'er he had learnt to lisp Thy name in prayer.
Tho' fostered still by loving gentle hands
What heart can understand like Mother's heart?
What other love can feed an infant's soul?
I sinned, though good intent was then my guide,
And now my cross is more than I can bear.
My son has gone from me:
O God in deep distress of soul I cry,
Come to mine aid; my son, my only child,
Thou hast called home to Thee, and my faint heart
In anguish sore is aching in my breast.
He will return no more, ah nevermore.
Oh, Thou who stood by Lazarus' grave long since
Come Thou to me, forgive my sin and calm
This tumult in my soul-help me, oh God;
The waves of sorrow o'er me fiercely roll,
Grant Thou to me, Thy erring sorrowing child,
Beyond this cross to see Thy loving face,
To hear Thee say, "Sufficient is My Grace."

iTO MOLLY.
Come on little Molly,
Climb upon my knees,
Open your big grey eyes
So that you can see.
Don't you know I love you,
Love you such a lot
That not for a moment
Are you e'er forgot?
Why, you have been sleeping
All the live long day!
Wake up now and greet me,
Let us have some play.
Tell me that you love me,
By your gentle purr,
While I hold you closely
Stroking down your fur.
Tell me what you dreamed of,
Oft I saw you start;
Did you find a birdie?
Bless your little heart.
Did you see your babies
While you lay asleep?
Molly, I still love you
Though I made you weep.
How you miss those infants,
Call them every night,
Makes my own heart ache so,
Surely 'tis not right.
Molly, they are safe, love,
Safe from every harm,
Hush your restless crying,
I will bring you calm.

Soon will come some others,
And I promise you
That these little darlings
Shall remain with you.
And you will be happy
With them all the day;
Cheer up pretty, Molly,
Come along and play.

FRIENDS.
Oh Lord, please send me some good friends
Whose hearts are true as steel,
Whose smiles come from their inmost souls,
And tell the love they feel.
Not many Lord, but just a few
With understanding heart
And love that takes in all the world,
Nor shuns the busy mart.
True friends who will not smile awhile,
Then frown behind my back;
But loyal friends whom I can trust
To stand true to the rack.
Lord, make me such a friend to all,
Firm, faithful, true and bold;
Even through sorrow, be it Lord,
Oh make my heart true gold.

HENRY'S AMBITION.
(A True Incident).
Little Henry was just ten and lived beside the sea
You would think he was ambitious a sailor man to be,
But no, though he went fishing and rowing many a day,
His hopes for future happiness did hardly lie that way.
To none he told his secret, though often one would ask
If when he grew to manhood he would like a special task;
His large brown eyes grew larger but he never said a
word,
And he kept it as a secret, so that nobody heard.
But out it came one morning in a most mysterious way,
The little man went fishing with his Uncle in the Bay.
The sea was very angry and huge waves dashed about,
To hear each other speaking at length each had to shout.
A mighty wave above them rose, they had to sink or
swim,
Poor Henry sank beneath the waves, his eyes with fright
grew dim.
Full twice he rose and sank again when strong arms
caught his waist
And bore him o'er the water; there was no time to waste.
With eyes shut tight, and sputtering mouth his Uncle
heard him say,
"I cannot drive a motor car yet I must drown to-day."
And this was followed by a groan and consciousness then
fled.
When next he opened his brown eyes he found himself in
bed.
To-day Henry to manhood grown can drive a motor car,
And never tires or makes a slip although the way be far.
He now has new ambitions, and I hope they will come
true
As the cherished one he uttered when he thought his life
was through.

INVOCATION.
Gentle Muses, come and bless me,
Take me to your bower again,
I have wandered, lone and weary,
'Mid earth's joy and 'mid earth's pain
Prodigal, returning homeward,
Sick at heart and tossed about,
I can only still go forward
If you stay this anxious doubt.
Roaming far from thy caresses,
Yet some treasure have I found,
Oases in wildernesses
Deep I dug beneath the ground.
These will serve me if your blessing
Falls upon my soul to-night,
For I need your tender guidance
In this fresh adventurous flight.
Gentle Muses, come and bless me,
I would soar, but know not how,
Sweet inspirers, I am only
Waiting for your voices now.

WAITING.
Here I sit the long, lone evening,
Pen in hand and scroll on knee,
Waiting for an inspiration
For to write some poetry.
Everything seems in my favour,
All the strings in perfect tune,
But the melody still lingers,
On this lovely night in June.
Diana with magic splendour
O'er me casts her potent spell,
Fragrant roses round my window
Still insist that all is well.
Yet I cannot write a sonnet
Or a lyric clear and sweet,
Not a breath of inspiration
Comes to-night my sotl to greet.
Now I feel a call from dreamland,
I will go, for doubtless there
I shall find the inspiration
That I waited vainly here.
Off to dreamland then I'll wander,
Sleep will soothe my discontent,
And perhaps the Muse will greet me
When the veil of night is rent.

"THE BREATH OF MORN."
Oh God, I thank Thee for this beauteous Morn
That unto us Thy children has been born,
Her tender breath blows soft upon my face,
And all the land is wrapped in her embrace.
O God, give all Thy children eyes to see
The splendour that in common days there be,
And grant that I may ever live Thy praise
For Thy great gifts in Nature's wondrous ways.

FOSTERED.
I clasp your hand in mine and say no word,
Trusting the silence to convey to you
The depth of feeling that has sealed my lips
Now when they most should speak consoling words.
The tale you tell goes to my very soul-
So deep that, even in these silent hours,
I long to take you to my throbbing breast,
And bid you weep again as when a child
You must have wept to gain a fond caress
From her who bore you.
Still, you prospered well,
And she who gave you all her heart could give
Has lived to see your manhood rich and strong.
Yet that heart hunger, yes, I know it well,
Has only strengthened with the lengthening years.
I feel your sorrow and it hurts the more
Because I have no power to heal your wound.
But it may comfort you at least to know
That my heart feels with you your every hurt,
And, when I clasp your hand in silence still,
I pray the years will bring you happiness.

"JOY COMETH ..."
I laid me down with grief to pass the night,
And tears unbidden flowed thro' weary hours
And watered all my couch; but ere the light
Of dawn arose, sleep led me to her bowers,
And there as on her mossy bed I lay,
My soul forsook the fever of the day.
And, while in troubled sleep, one came to me
In garments white; less white her lovely face,
Her eyes were wet, but still she smiled at me
And beckoned me to follow her apace.
I rose and followed with no anxious fear:
Were not her eyelids wet with many a tear?
We wandered thro' the woods, I grasped her hand,
"Haste for the dawn will soon be here," I said,
"And now I know that thou dost understand
For in thine eyes some message I have read."
"The time is long," she said; "be patient still;
Dawn will not come till I my task fulfil."
And soon we came upon a fragrant bower
Securely made and with wild flowers o'er-run,
Safe from harsh wind and heavy frost and shower,
With casements for the bright beams of the sun.
"Sit here," she said, "and I to thee will tell
Why I alone within this bower dwell.
"Once, like to thee, I had my youthful dreams,
Great longings and desires for distant things;
Like thee I wandered far by lonely streams,
And sighed that like the birds I might have wings.
I prayed for love and comfort, wealth and fame,
And felt I'd weep no more if these but came.
"And love did come,.bNt not as I had dreamt,
With sweeping fire that dazzled all my soul
And filled my youthful dreams, and so I sent
To heaven a cry that from my anguish stole
Up to the throne of God, 'Send me such love
As poets dream while thro' the woods they rove.'

"I had not long to wait, for this love came,
A mighty force that shook my very life,
And with it all the comfort wealth and fame
That I had sighed for in my early strife;
And all the things I craved were at my feet:
Truly, I thought, my life is now complete.
"Vain thought! for there were longings in my breast
That would not silent be, and so I wept;
But unto none was this my grief confessed.
I woke and sighed the while my lover slept,
I could not pray-how pray when God had given
Each boon for which my soul had cried to heaven?
"My lover asked, 'Why are thine eyelids wet?
Hast thou not all that this vain world can give?
Thou ever hast a smile for me and yet
I know that deep in sorrow thou dost live.
Thy grief to fathom oft in vain I try;
Come, kiss me now and still that weary sigh.'
"That eve they brought my lover home to me,
A lifeless clay. 'An accident,' they said;
I heard as in a dream-I could not see
For tears, but yet I knew that he was dead.
Then, one by one, fame, wealth and comforts went,
And all the joys that unto me were sent.
"Nature was all the comfort left to me.
I lingered long beside the selfsame stream
Where in years past I had so loved to be,
And where I had full many a glorious dream.
I laid me down upon her banks and wept
Until my tears flowed in a rivulet.
"The river sang the selfsame merry song
That charmed my soul in happy days gone by,
No note of sorrow could to her belong,
She never felt the burden of a sigh;
Then my heart smote me, for I surely knew
That crags, and caverns dark obscured her view.
"The scales fell from my eyes. There came at last
In wondrous clearness to my startled eyes
A vision true of all my changeful past

That filled me now with wonder and surprise;
God had grown weary of my discontent,
And so He took to heaven what once He lent.
"And I who had not prayed for many a day
Looked up to heaven's vault in deep distress;
In agony of heart I sought to pray
And asked for mercy in His tenderness;
He had been merciful and kind to me,
But I from discontent was never free.
"'Thou art forgiven,' He said, 'but rise and go
Unto a place I have prepared for thee;
Thou shalt my servant be and live to show
Unto the world what thou hast learnt of Me,
And to My discontented children teach
What sages have all tried in vain to preach.
"'When thou dost see a child of Mine in pain
And full of discontent, go, give thine hand:
Thine eyes forevermore shall wear the strain
Of tears, and this will make them understand,
For sorrow's language is so plain to all,
That they will rise and follow at thy call.'
"And so I came for thee and brought thee here;
Weep not, but think indeed how blest thou art;
God's love surrounds his children everywhere.
Be thou content and trust to God thine heart;
If thou wilt humbly drink life's gall and wine,
Eternal gladness shall some day be thine.
"Now learn from one who is content with aught;
I once had all the joys that life can give,
Yet was I not content-but God has taught
That knowing discontent is not to live.
So come what may, grief, longing, loss or pain
Let sweet content within thy soul remain."
I woke with all the music of her voice
Within my heart, and birds were singing sweet,
And sunbeams danced about. I had no choice
But to be glad and worship at His Feet:
In sorrow I had lain me down to rest;
I woke with sweet contentment in my breast.

SAD SONGS.
"Our sweetest songs are those that tell of saddest
thought."
Shelley.
You ask me why I sit and sing sad songs
Instead of joyful ones. Is life not sad?
Nature can sing glad songs, to her belongs
The power to sing when we cannot be glad.
She hath no heart to feel life's bitter pain;
She hath no eyes for tragedies of life;
She hath no ears to hear man's sad refrain,
No feet to jostle in the endless strife.
But how can I who daily feel life's strain,
Whose eyes have witnessed scenes too sad for tears,
Whose ears have heard of sorrow and disdain
Sing always joyous songs 'mid hopes and fears?
How sing glad songs, when oft my brethren weep,
When burdened saints lift up their hands to God,
When cares and need do rob their eyes of sleep,
And mourners weep for loved ones neathh the sod?
How sing glad songs, when hate doth yet abound,
And man still lifts a hand against a brother;
When selfish deeds and thoughtless words abound,
And men feel not the woes of one another?
How sing glad songs, when, in life's bitter school,
The lessons taught are lovely but severe;
Yet we must learn to keep each well planned rule
Only for love and not for frightful fear?
Does he who first attempts, sweet music draw
From any instrument? Nay, he must strive
For many a year, (it is of life the law),
Ere at his precious hope he doth arrive.
Kind friend, forgive me, I am young in years;
What you have mastered is to me so new;
I strive to seek life's meaning e'en thro' tears,
And so oft saddened thus I seem to you.

But I shall sing glad songs for you some day
When life's true meaning is to me made clear,
When my heart's tumult shall have died away,
And my philosophy can dry the tear.
Till then, ask me no more to sing glad songs,
For now I feel that saddest songs are sweet;
When I have learnt the mystery of life's wrongs,
Then I shall cast sweet trophies at your feet.
Till then, ask me no more; for in sad hours
The heart doth calmly sow the golden grain
That shall spring up and send forth lovely flowers,
And so abundant fruit shall then remain.
Then shall my songs flow always calm and sweet,
Grand melodies with joy and sorrow blent,
With chords majestic and rich tones and deep,
As never unto mortal souls were sent.

TiHANKSGIVING.
I thank Thee, Lord, for all the joys that come to me
in life,
For Nature's gentle soothing balm that comes to aid
our strife;
For friends, for health, for books, for food and every-
thing beside,
For Thy sweet words of love and cheer that in our
hearts abide.

But Lord, I want to give Thee thanks for my own
quiet room,
With windows open to the east and roses round in
bloom,
With Nature pictures on the wall and books upon
the shelf
Where I can leave the world outside and seek to
know myself.

To some it's but a trifle, but, dear Lord, it's all to
me,
For in its calm and quiet I can often speak to Thee,
I can sing my songs of gladness or find relief in
tears,
And in Thy love find refuge from life's many ills
and fears.

What peace comes to my heart here in this quiet
little spot,
Where I sit and write at leisure and where conflict
enters not;
I can read or write a poem or a letter to a friend,
Or tune my little phonograph with my own mood to
blend.

And so, Lord, though I may not own a house that is
all mine;
I'm grateful for this little spot and will no more
repine;
I only need a resting place the while I journey here,
For daily I am nearing my fair homeland Over
There.

THE PEANUT BOY.
Lord, look upon this peanut boy,
He's rough and coarse and rude;
He has been selling all the day,
His words are very crude.
But, Lord, he's worn and weary now,
See how he stands asleep;
His head is resting on the post,
The basket at his feet.
Dear Lord, he has not sold them all,
But he has done his best:
And, while he stands and sleeps awhile,
With sweet dreams make him blest.
And, Lord, when I shall fall asleep
With my tasks incomplete,
Remember I was weary Lord,
And give me peaceful sleep.

TO-
He was so young, so gentle and so sweet,
I needed not a second glance to see
That in his heart did tender graces meet
And from base thoughts and actions he was free.
I looked at him and loved his youthful face,
I heard him speak and loved his mellow voice,
I saw him smile, and therein I could trace
The loveliness that made my soul rejoice.
His thoughts were wondrous deep for one so young,
But, child of Nature, he had learnt her ways,
And all her beauteous secrets yet unsung
He whispered to me in those sunny days.
I loved him as he spake-and love him still
With love that longs to shield him from all harm;
Oh, God of heaven, mould his gentle will,
And all the foes that seek his hurt disarm.

TO POESIE.
Come, let me clasp Thee to my breast again,
Sweet Poesie, ah, whither should I flee
From earth's dull thraldom, save alone to Thee
And there abide in painful ecstasy?
Come, let me feel thy kiss upon my lips,
And quench my thirst with thy fresh honeyed dews,
For naught unto thy love wilt thou refuse,
Though earthly love away so swiftly slips.
I had foresaken Thee, my truest Love,
But now I seek Thee with a famished heart,
Remembering how thou nourished me of yore;
Now I relinquish all with whom I strove
And turn again from life's absorbing mart
To bless Thee, love Thee, serve Thee evermore.

ANOTHER MOULD.
You can talk about your babies
With blue eyes and hair of gold,
But I'll tell you 'bout an angel
That's cast in another mould.
She is brown just like a biscuit,
And she has the blackest eyes
That don't for once remind you
Of the blue of tropic skies.
And her hair is black and shiny
And her little teeth are pearls,
She's just a year I'll tell you,
But the best of baby girls.
O, she's sweeter than the sweetest
Of all babies neathh the sun,
And I feel that I could eat her,
Thinking she's a sugar bun.
O, the little ivory babies
Are as sweet as they can be,
But give me my brown skin cherub
Still a-dangling on my knee.

A LITTLE PRAYER.
Lord, let me be content to do
The little things that come my way,
E'en when my heart is longing for
A bigger and a brighter day.
Lord, let me love the little gifts
Thou sendest to enrich my heart,
The friends, the books, the tender flowers
The merry birds that ne'er depart.
Lord, help me love the ugly things
That try my patience and my soul,
And let me keep a heart that smiles
Tho' trials fierce around me roll.
And Lord, when oft I feel alone
In this thy wondrous universe,
Come, and thy love to me reveal
And all the dreary gloom disperse.

TO MOTHERS.
Here's a song to the Mothers
The Mothers of every race,
In every country under the sun
In every clime and place.
The Mothers whose hearts are happy,
And those whose hearts are sad,
The Mothers whose children are angels,
And those whose children are bad.
0, there's no heart like a Mother's,
There's no such love sublime
As fills the heart of the women
Who are mothers in every clime.
Then here's a song to the Mothers,
To yours, and yours, and mine,
Young or old, be they here or There,
They are touched with the spark divine!

CONFLICT.
My heart is sick and sad today,
To me there comes no joy,
For my soul yearns to soar away,
Where cares no more annoy.
My spirit fain would gather wings
And soar beyond the sky;
A longing now within me springs
From this dull earth to fly.
But this frail earthly frame of mine
My soul in bondage keeps,
And seeks to rob the spark divine
While my sad spirit weeps.
Oh, soul, be patient; soon will come
The time for thy release;
Then thou shalt preen thy wings for home
Where thou shalt be at peace.

THE LITTLE GUEST.
There's a baby in the house,
So beware,
Just be quiet as a mouse,
And take care
How you shut that noisy door,.
How you strut upon the floor;
If you wake him I'll be sore,
So prepare.
He just came two months ago,
And I'll say
He's the sweetest boy I know
Any day;
Hear his mammy singing sweet,
How her joy becomes complete
As he kicks his little feet
In his play!
See the pride in her fair eyes
Shining bright,
In her arms her baby lies
Soft and light-
As she dreams of future years,
Of the laughter and the tears,
O, the future that hope rears
In her flight.
And proud daddy, he can rave
O'er his boy.
To his charms he's now a slave
In his joy-
Baby is a peach for sure,
"Listen, dear, don't bang that door.
Didn't I say that before?
Here's your toy."

IN JAMAICA.
0! the sun shines warm in Jamaica,
From one year's end to the next,
The flowers bloom on in Jamaica,
And songbirds are never perplexed;
It's a lazy life that we live here,
Tho' we carry a fair share of work;
And tho' the warmth makes us weary,
It's seldom we really do shirk.
0! the darkies smile on in Jamaica,
And whistle or sing all the day;
There's always a song ringing somewhere,
To them it is always bright May.
It's little we need for our comfort,
When we live in a wee cosy cot
In the heart of the hills where kind Nature
Gives all, and the towns are forgot.
0! it's a glorious life in Jamaica
For the man who has merely enough,
But it's a dreary life for the beggars,
And the large slums are all pretty rough.
It's a gay life too for the children
Not poor, and whose skin is light,
But the darker set are striving
And facing a very stiff fight.
0, it's a wonderful life in Jamaica
For the tourists who visit this shore,
There's golf, there's dancing, and swimming,
And charms that they ne'er saw before.
They call it a garden of Eden,
They love the fair hills of St. Ann,
And they say on the white sands of Mo. Bay
They get such a wonderful tan!
0, there's beauty in most every country,
And scenes that bring thrills of delight,
But there's no place like sunny Jamaica,
And no people whose hearts are so light.
Should I leave these fair shores for another,
Be that land yet the fairest of all,
I should pine for the hills of Jamaica,
And hasten to answer her call.

REFUGE.
I sought the earthly comforts I could find
To calm the tempests in my troubled soul,
I said a prayer for my peace of mind
And sought to give the poor some trifling dole.
On one frail hope I staked my happiness,
And closed my eyes to all that came between,
To earthly friends I went in my distress
And hard on wavering props I sought to lean.
All failed me; and in agony of heart
I turned to Him Who saith, "Come unto Me"-
And in our sorrows seeks to share a part,
To Him for refuge did my sad soul flee:
And O, though last of all His love I sought,
How wonderful the peace to me He brought.

IN JAMAICA.
0! the sun shines warm in Jamaica,
From one year's end to the next,
The flowers bloom on in Jamaica,
And songbirds are never perplexed;
It's a lazy life that we live here,
Tho' we carry a fair share of work;
And tho' the warmth makes us weary,
It's seldom we really do shirk.
0! the darkies smile on in Jamaica,
And whistle or sing all the day;
There's always a song ringing somewhere,
To them it is always bright May.
It's little we need for our comfort,
When we live in a wee cosy cot
In the heart of the hills where kind Nature
Gives all, and the towns are forgot.
0! it's a glorious life in Jamaica
For the man who has merely enough,
But it's a dreary life for the beggars,
And the large slums are all pretty rough.
It's a gay life too for the children
Not poor, and whose skin is light,
But the darker set are striving
And facing a very stiff fight.
0, it's a wonderful life in Jamaica
For the tourists who visit this shore,
There's golf, there's dancing, and swimming,
And charms that they ne'er saw before.
They call it a garden of Eden,
They love the fair hills of St. Ann,
And they say on the white sands of Mo. Bay
They get such a wonderful tan!
0, there's beauty in most every country,
And scenes that bring thrills of delight,
But there's no place like sunny Jamaica,
And no people whose hearts are so light.
Should I leave these fair shores for another,
Be that land yet the fairest of all,
I should pine for the hills of Jamaica,
And hasten to answer her call.

REFUGE.
I sought the earthly comforts I could find
To calm the tempests in my troubled soul,
I said a prayer for my peace of mind
And sought to give the poor some trifling dole.
On one frail hope I staked my happiness,
And closed my eyes to all that came between,
To earthly friends I went in my distress
And hard on wavering props I sought to lean.
All failed me; and in agony of heart
I turned to Him Who saith, "Come unto Me"-
And in our sorrows seeks to share a part,
To Him for refuge did my sad soul flee:
And O, though last of all His love I sought,
How wonderful the peace to me He brought.

REASONING.
O heart of mine, canst thou not be content
With all the glories life lays at thy feet,
The rosy dawns that unto thee are sent,
The laughing children with their faces sweet?
The roses bloom for thee on every hand,
For thee the birds are singing in the trees,
Fair Nature's beauties overspread the land
And thine are all the wonders of the seas.
Oh heart, what need is this that all earth's balm
Cannot assauge? What is this mighty boon
That thou wouldst have to bring thee perfect calm?
Thou growest weary of the years too soon:
Take thou life's gifts upon thy bended knee,
Naught for thy good will God withhold from thee.

THE SNARE.
Wherefore do joys that are fairest and best
Fade as fast as the frailest of flowers?
Wherefore do hearts that have stood the great test
Pass away in the briefest of hours?
Wherefore does fate stir the heart of desire
When she means not to whisper her peace?
Wherefore do hearts grow a-weary and tire
When there is no timely release?
Wherefore doth God send us sorrow and pain
And hearts that know little of joy?
Wherefore my heart dost thou sadly complain?
It is ease that thy soul will destroy.

TO MY SISTER.
I watched them as they laid you in the earth,
Not you, but what remained of mortal clay
After your soul had left its feeble berth
For realms beyond of everlasting day.
The peace of God was in your calm sweet face,
For you, beloved, death had lost its sting;
Loved ones were waiting you in some fair place
Where there are neither tears nor journeying.
You bade us not to weep or mourn your loss;
Truly, we would not have you suffer more;
But, ah, tears are but weak when such a cross
Weighs on the heart, now you have gone before.
Now you have gone I am indeed alone,
Such love as yours no more on earth is shown.

TIME.
0 Time, though all the world doth sing thy praise,
Yet will not I, but curse thy very name,
And hate thy coming nights and speeding days
Who for my sorrows are the most to blame.
0 Time, thou stealer of sweet childhood's hours
Who takest all and giveth but the earth,
Wilt thou not grant me but these simple flowers
To give my leaden soul a little mirth?
My kindred, near and dearest to my heart,
Thou takest from me, I am left alone;
And now again I feel thy wicked dart
Speed on to rob me of the all I own.
Since thou hast taken all that life holds dear,
Here is my heart, be swift, I have no fear.

MY HEART IS SAD.
Although the day is perfect as can be,
A sight fit for the gods and for humanity
To wander round in perfect ecstasy,
My heart is sad.
Though fairest roses bloom on every hand,
And trees wear golden flowers throughout the land
And sparkling waves caress the throbbing sand,
My heart is sad.
Because, beyond the beauties I behold,
I see world sorrow and distress untold
In God's supreme creation still unfold,
My heart is sad.
Because my restless soul is far too strong
For this enfeebled flesh in which it long
Must linger, and disturb my perfect song,
My heart is sad.
Because I must keep on this weary way,
And still be brave though trials will have sway
Until the dawn brings in a fairer day,
My heart is sad.
Because those dearest to this heart of mine
Are sharing in the glory that is Thine,
And this poor dross Thou seekest to refine,
My heart is sad.
Because earth's beauty is so rich and deep,
And we can only see through eyes that weep,
Because we must clasp pain from steep to steep,
My heart is sad.

SONGS OF JAMAICA.
'Write a song about lovely Jamaica,'
You ask with a smile in your voice;
And I would be happy to please you,
But it seems that I haven't a choice..
I thought I'd write of Dunn's River,
Or of the White Sands at Mo. Bay,
But the pen it just stuck to my fingers,
It seemed I had nothing to say.
Then I thought of the peak of Blue Mountain
By the fair fickle clouds oft caressed,
Of the soft flowing river at Bog Walk
And the lilies that bloom on her breast.
I wandered in lovely Hope Gardens,
Smelt the fragrance of orchids so rare,
Sat down neathh the flowery arbours,
And saw poetry round everywhere.
I recapture these scenes as I'm writing,
And I'm moved by their charm rich and deep,
But for fine words to paint a fair picture,
To the muses still vainly I weep.
O, Jamaica, the Muse will not grant me
The power to praise thee in song,
For where in God's earth is such beauty
Or where doth such splendour belong?
It may be that I am not worthy,
But still for this blessing I'll pray,
And maybe in songs worthy of thee
I'll voice thy rich glories some day.
Till then, my kind friend, please be patient,
And list as a humble heart sings.
I but wait for the breath of the Muses
I'm the harp, but they strike on the strings.

Digital Library of the Caribbean	english español français
About dLOC \| Topical Collections \| Partner Collections	\| RSS
UFDC Home

	Front Cover
	Front Matter
	Title Page
	Copyright
	Dedication
	Introduction
	Foreword
	Table of Contents
	Poems of Nature
	Poems of Love
	Miscellaneous Poems