The coursers of the sun, whose hoofs of flame Consume morn's misty threshold, are exact As bankers' clerks, and all this star-poised frame, One swerve allowed, were with convulsion rackt; This world were doomed, should Dulness fail, to tame Wit's feathered heels in the stern stocks of fact.

A FOREBODING

What were the whole void world, if thou wert dead, Whose briefest absence can eclipse my day, And make the hours that danced with Time away Drag their funereal steps with m.u.f.fled head?

Through thee, meseems, the very rose is red, From thee the violet steals its breath in May, From thee draw life all things that grow not gray, And by thy force the happy stars are sped.

Thou near, the hope of thee to overflow Fills all my earth and heaven, as when in Spring, Ere April come, the birds and blossoms know, And gra.s.ses brighten round her feet to cling; Nay, and this hope delights all nature so That the dumb turf I tread on seems to sing.

III. FANCY

UNDER THE OCTOBER MAPLES

What mean these banners spread, These paths with royal red So gaily carpeted?

Comes there a prince to-day?

Such footing were too fine For feet less argentine Than Dian's own or thine, Queen whom my tides obey.

Surely for thee are meant These hues so orient That with a sultan's tent Each tree invites the sun; Our Earth such homage pays, So decks her dusty ways, And keeps such holidays, For one and only one.

My brain shapes form and face, Throbs with the rhythmic grace And cadence of her pace To all fine instincts true; Her footsteps, as they pa.s.s, Than moonbeams over gra.s.s Fall lighter,--but, alas, More insubstantial too!

LOVE'S CLOCK

A PASTORAL

DAPHNIS _waiting_

'O Dryad feet, Be doubly fleet, Timed to my heart's expectant beat While I await her!

"At four," vowed she; 'Tis scarcely three, Yet by _my_ time it seems to be A good hour later!'

CHLOE

'Bid me not stay!

Hear reason, pray!

'Tis striking six! Sure never day Was short as this is!'

DAPHNIS

'Reason nor rhyme Is in the chime!

It can't be five; I've scarce had time To beg two kisses!'

BOTH

'Early or late, When lovers wait, And Love's watch gains, if Time a gait So snail-like chooses, Why should his feet Become more fleet Than cowards' are, when lovers meet And Love's watch loses?'

ELEANOR MAKES MACAROONS

Light of triumph in her eyes, Eleanor her ap.r.o.n ties; As she pushes back her sleeves, High resolve her bosom heaves.

Hasten, cook! impel the fire To the pace of her desire; As you hope to save your soul, Bring a virgin ca.s.serole, Brightest bring of silver spoons,-- Eleanor makes macaroons!

Almond-blossoms, now adance In the smile of Southern France, Leave your sport with sun and breeze, Think of duty, not of ease; Fashion, 'neath their jerkins brown, Kernels white as thistle-down, Tiny cheeses made with cream From the Galaxy's mid-stream, Blanched in light of honeymoons,-- Eleanor makes macaroons!

Now for sugar,--nay, our plan Tolerates no work of man.

Hurry, then, ye golden bees; Fetch your clearest honey, please, Garnered on a Yorkshire moor, While the last larks sing and soar, From the heather-blossoms sweet Where sea-breeze and sunshine meet, And the Augusts mask as Junes,-- Eleanor makes macaroons!

Next the pestle and mortar find.

Pure rock-crystal,--these to grind Into paste more smooth than silk, Whiter than the milkweed's milk: Spread it on a rose-leaf, thus, Cate to please Theocritus; Then the fire with spices swell, While, for her completer spell, Mystic canticles she croons,-- Eleanor makes macaroons!

Perfect! and all this to waste On a graybeard's palsied taste!

Poets so their verses write, Heap them full of life and light, And then fling them to the rude Mumbling of the mult.i.tude.

Not so dire her fate as theirs, Since her friend this gift declares Choicest of his birthday boons,-- Eleanor's dear macaroons!

_February_ 22, 1884.

TELEPATHY

'And how could you dream of meeting?'

Nay, how can you ask me, sweet?

All day my pulse had been beating The tune of your coming feet.

And as nearer and ever nearer I felt the throb of your tread, To be in the world grew clearer, And my blood ran rosier red.

Love called, and I could not linger, But sought the forbidden tryst, As music follows the finger Of the dreaming lutanist

And though you had said it and said it, 'We must not be happy to-day,'

Was I not wiser to credit The fire in my feet than your Nay?

SCHERZO

When the down is on the chin And the gold-gleam in the hair, When the birds their sweethearts win And champagne is in the air, Love is here, and Love is there, Love is welcome everywhere.

Summer's cheek too soon turns thin, Days grow briefer, sunshine rare; Autumn from his cannekin Blows the froth to chase Despair: Love is met with frosty stare, Cannot house 'neath branches bare.

When new life is in the leaf And new red is in the rose, Though Love's Maytlme be as brief As a dragon-fly's repose, Never moments come like those, Be they Heaven or h.e.l.l: who knows?

All too soon comes Winter's grief, Spendthrift Love's false friends turn foes; Softly comes Old Age, the thief, Steals the rapture, leaves the throes: Love his mantle round him throws,-- 'Time to say Good-by; it snows.'