THE SONG OF YESTERDAY

I

But yesterday I looked away O'er happy lands, where sunshine lay In golden blots Inlaid with spots Of shade and wild forget-me-nots.

My head was fair With flaxen hair, And fragrant breezes, faint and rare, And warm with drouth From out the south, Blew all my curls across my mouth.

And, cool and sweet, My naked feet Found dewy pathways through the wheat; And out again Where, down the lane, The dust was dimpled with the rain.

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II

But yesterday:-- Adream, astray, From morning's red to evening's gray, O'er dales and hills Of daffodils And lorn sweet-fluting whippoorwills.

I knew nor cares Nor tears nor prayers-- A mortal G.o.d, crowned unawares With sunset--and A scepter-wand Of apple-blossoms in my hand!

The dewy blue Of twilight grew To purple, with a star or two Whose lisping rays Failed in the blaze Of sudden fireflies through the haze.

III

But yesterday I heard the lay Of summer birds, when I, as they With breast and wing, All quivering With life and love, could only sing.

My head was lent Where, with it, blent A maiden's o'er her instrument; While all the night, From vale to height, Was filled with echoes of delight.

And all our dreams Were lit with gleams Of that lost land of reedy streams.

Along whose brim Forever swim Pan's lilies, laughing up at him.

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IV

But yesterday!...

O blooms of May, And summer roses--where-away?

O stars above; And lips of love, And all the honeyed sweets thereof!--

O lad and la.s.s, And orchard pa.s.s, And briered lane, and daisied gra.s.s!

O gleam and gloom, And woodland bloom, And breezy breaths of all perfume!--

No more for me Or mine shall be Thy raptures--save in memory,-- No more--no more-- Till through the Door Of Glory gleam the days of yore.

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SONG OF PARTING

Say farewell, and let me go; Shatter every vow!

All the future can bestow Will be welcome now!

And if this fair hand I touch I have worshipped overmuch, It was my mistake--and so, Say farewell, and let me go.

Say farewell, and let me go: Murmur no regret, Stay your tear-drops ere they flow-- Do not waste them yet!

They might pour as pours the rain, And not wash away the pain: I have tried them and I know.-- Say farewell, and let me go.

Say farewell, and let me go: Think me not untrue-- True as truth is, even so I am true to you!

If the ghost of love may stay Where my fond heart dies to-day, I am with you alway--so, Say farewell, and let me go.

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OUR KIND OF A MAN

I

The kind of a man for you and me!

He faces the world unflinchingly, And smites, as long as the wrong resists, With a knuckled faith and force like fists: He lives the life he is preaching of, And loves where most is the need of love; His voice is clear to the deaf man's ears, And his face sublime through the blind man's tears; The light shines out where the clouds were dim, And the widow's prayer goes up for him; The latch is clicked at the hovel door And the sick man sees the sun once more, And out o'er the barren fields he sees Springing blossoms and waving trees, Feeling as only the dying may, That G.o.d's own servant has come that way, Smoothing the path as it still winds on Through the Golden Gate where his loved have gone.

II

The kind of a man for me and you!

However little of worth we do He credits full, and abides in trust That time will teach us how more is just.

He walks abroad, and he meets all kinds Of querulous and uneasy minds, And, sympathizing, he shares the pain Of the doubts that rack us, heart and brain; And, knowing this, as we grasp his hand, We are surely coming to understand!

He looks on sin with pitying eyes-- E'en as the Lord, since Paradise,-- Else, should we read, "Though our sins should glow As scarlet, they shall be white as snow"?-- And, feeling still, with a grief half glad, That the bad are as good as the good are bad, He strikes straight out for the Right--and he Is the kind of a man for you and me!

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"HOW DID YOU REST, LAST NIGHT?"

"How did you rest, last night?"-- I've heard my gran'pap say Them words a thousand times--that's right-- Jes them words thataway!

As punctchul-like as morning dast To ever heave in sight Gran'pap 'ud allus haf to ast-- "How did you rest, last night?"

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