Alas, the more we know the less we know we know.

G.o.d hath laid down the limits we cannot pa.s.s; And it is well he giveth us no gla.s.s Wherewith to see beyond the present glance, Else we might die a thousand deaths perchance Before we lay our bones beneath the gra.s.s.

What is the soul, and whither will it fly?

We only know that matter cannot die, But lives and lived through all eternity, And ever turns from h.o.a.ry age to youth.

And is the soul not worthier than the dust?

So in His providence we put our trust; And so we humbly hope, for G.o.d is just-- Father all-wise, unmoved by wrath or ruth: What then is certain--what eternal? Truth, Almighty G.o.d, Time, s.p.a.ce and Cosmic Dust.

LOVE WILL FIND

Seek ye the fairest lily of the field, The fairest lotus that in lakelet lies, The fairest rose that ever morn revealed, And Love will find--from other eyes concealed-- A fairer flower in some fair woman's eyes.

List ye the lark that warbles to the morn, The sweetest note that linnet ever sung, Or trembling lute in tune with silver horn, And Love will list--and laugh your lute to scorn-- A sweeter lute in some fair woman's tongue.

Seek ye the dewy perfume seaward blown From flowering orange-groves to pa.s.sing ships; Nay, sip the nectared dew of Helicon, And Love will find--and claim it all his own-- A sweeter dew on some fair woman's lips.

Seek ye a couch of softest eider-down, The silken floss that baby birdling warms, Or shaded moss with blushing roses strown, And Love will find--when they are all alone-- A softer couch in some fair woman's arms.

AN OLD ENGLISH OAK

Silence is the voice of mighty things.

In silence dropped the acorn in the rain; In silence slept till sun-touched. Wondrous life Peeped from the mold and oped its eyes on morn.

Up-grew in silence through a thousand years The t.i.tan-armed, gnarl-jointed, rugged oak, Rock-rooted. Through his beard and s.h.a.ggy locks Soft breezes sung and tempests roared: the rain A thousand summers trickled down his beard; A thousand winters whitened on his head; Yet spake he not. He, from his coigne of hills, Beheld the rise and fall of empire, saw The pageantry and perjury of kings, The feudal barons and the slavish churls, The peace of peasants; heard the merry song Of mowers singing to the swing of scythes, The solemn-voiced, low-wailing funeral dirge Winding slow-paced with death to humble graves; And heard the requiem sung for coffined kings.

Saw castles rise and castles crumble down, Abbeys up-loom and clang their solemn bells, And heard the owl hoot ruin on their walls: Beheld a score of battle fields corpse-strewn-- Blood-fertiled with ten thousand flattered fools Who, but to please the vanity of one, Marched on hurrahing to the doom of death-- And spake not, neither sighed nor made a moan.

Saw from the blood of heroes roses spring, And where the clangor of steel-sinewed War Roared o'er embattled rage, heard gentle Peace To bleating hills and vales of rustling gold Flute her glad notes from morn till even-tide.

Grim with the grime of a thousand years he stood-- Grand in his silence, mighty in his years.

Under his shade the maid and lover wooed; Under his arms their children's children played And lambkins gamboled; at his feet by night The heart-sick wanderer laid him down and died, And he looked on in silence.

Silent hours In ghostly pantomime on tip-toe tripped The stately minuet of the pa.s.sing years, Until the horologe of Time struck _One_.

Black Thunder growled and from his throne of gloom Fire-flashed the night with hissing bolt, and lo, Heart-split, the giant of a thousand years Uttered one voice and like a t.i.tan fell, Crashing one hammer-clang, and pa.s.sed away.

THE LEGEND OF THE FALLS[CG]

[CG] _An-pe-tu Sa-pa_--Clouded Day--was the name of the Dakota mother who committed suicide, as related in this legend, by plunging over the Falls of St. Anthony. Schoolcraft calls her "_Ampata Sapa_." _Ampata_ is not Dakota. There are several versions of this legend, all agreeing in the main points.

[Read at the Celebration of the Old Settlers of Hennepin County, at the Academy of Music, Minneapolis, July 4, 1879.]

[_The Numerals refer to Notes in Appendix._]

On the Spirit-Island [CH] sitting under midnight's misty moon, Lo I see the spirits flitting o'er the waters one by one!

Slumber wraps the silent city, and the droning mills are dumb; One lone whippowil's shrill ditty calls her mate that ne'er will come.

Sadly moans the mighty river, foaming down the fettered falls, Where of old he thundered ever o'er abrupt and lofty walls.

Great _Unktehee_--G.o.d of waters--lifts no more his mighty head; Fled he with the timid otters?--lies he in the cavern dead?

Hark!--the waters hush their sighing and the whippowil her call, Through the moon-lit mists are flying dusky shadows silent all.

Lo from out the waters foaming--from the cavern deep and dread-- Through the glamour and the gloaming comes a spirit of the dead.

Sad she seems; her tresses raven on her tawny shoulders rest; Sorrow on her brow is graven, in her arms a babe is pressed.

Hark!--she chants the solemn story--sings the legend sad and old, And the river wrapt in glory listens while the tale is told.

Would you hear the legend olden hearken while I tell the tale-- Shorn, alas, of many a golden, weird Dakota chant and wail.

[CH] The small island of rock a few rods below the Falls, was called by the Dakotas _Wanagee We-ta_--Spirit-Island. They say the spirit of _Anpetu Sapa_ sits upon that island at night and pours forth her sorrow in song. They also say that from time out of mind, war-eagles nested on that island, until the advent of white men frightened them away. This seems to be true. See _Carver's Travels_ (London, 1778), p. 71.

THE LEGEND

Tall was young Wanata, stronger than _Heyoka's_ [16] giant form,-- Laughed at flood and fire and hunger, faced the fiercest winter storm.

When _Wakinyan_ [32] flashed and thundered, when Unktehee raved and roared, All but brave _Wanata_ wondered, and the G.o.ds with fear implored.

When the war-whoop shrill resounded, calling friends to meet the foe, From the _teepee_ swift he bounded, armed with polished lance and bow.

In the battle's din and clangor fast his fatal arrows flew, Flashed his fiery eyes with anger,--many a stealthy foe he slew.

Hunter swift was he and cunning, caught the beaver, slew the bear, Overtook the roebuck running, dragged the panther from his lair.

Loved was he by many a maiden; many a dark eye glanced in vain; Many a heart with sighs was laden for the love it could not gain.

So they called the brave "_Ska Capa_;"[CI] but the fairest of the band-- Moon-faced, meek Anpetu-Sapa--won the hunter's heart and hand.

[CI] Or _Capa Ska_--White beaver. White beavers are very rare, very cunning and hard to catch.

From the wars with triumph burning, from the chase of bison fleet, To his lodge the brave returning, spread his trophies at her feet.

Love and joy sat in the _teepee_; him a black-eyed boy she bore; But alas, she lived to weep a love she lost forevermore.

For the warriors chose Wanata first _Itancan_[CJ] of the band.

At the council-fire he sat a leader brave, a chieftain grand.

Proud was fair Anpetu-Sapa, and her eyes were glad with joy; Proud was she and very happy with her warrior and her boy.

But alas, the fatal honor that her brave Wanata won, Brought a bitter woe upon her,--hid with clouds the summer sun.

For among the brave Dakotas wives bring honor to the chief.

On the vine-clad Minnesota's banks he met the Scarlet Leaf.

[CJ] _E-tan-can_--Chief.

Young and fair was Ape-duta[CK]--full of craft and very fair; Proud she walked a queen of beauty with her dark, abundant hair.

In her net of hair she caught him--caught Wanata with her wiles; All in vain his wife besought him--begged in vain his wonted smiles.

Ape-duta ruled the _teepee_--all Wanata's smiles were hers; When the lodge was wrapped in sleep a star[CL] beheld the mother's tears.

Long she strove to do her duty for the black-eyed babe she bore; But the proud, imperious beauty made her sad forevermore.

Still she dressed the skins of beaver, bore the burdens, spread the fare; Patient ever, murmuring never, though her cheeks were creased with care.

In the moon _Maga-o kada_, [71] twice an hundred years ago-- Ere the "Black Robe's"[CM] sacred shadow stalked the prairies' pathless snow-- Down the swollen, rushing river, in the sunset's golden hues, From the hunt of bear and beaver came the band in swift canoes.

On the queen of fairy islands, on the _Wita Waste's_ [CN] sh.o.r.e Camped Wanata, on the highlands just above the cataract's roar.

Many braves were with Wanata; Ape-duta, too, was there, And the sad Anpetu-sapa spread the lodge with wonted care.

Then above the leafless prairie leaped the fat-faced, laughing moon, And the stars--the spirits fairy--walked the welkin one by one.

Swift and silent in the gloaming on the waste of waters blue, Speeding downward to the foaming, shot Wanata's birch canoe.