If spicy-fringed pinks that blush and pale With pa.s.sions of perfume, -- if violets blue That hint of heaven with odor more than hue, -- If perfect roses, each a holy Grail Wherefrom the blood of beauty doth exhale Grave raptures round, -- if leaves of green as new As those fresh chaplets wove in dawn and dew By Emily when down the Athenian vale She paced, to do observance to the May, Nor dreamed of Arcite nor of Palamon, -- If fruits that riped in some more riotous play Of wind and beam that stirs our temperate sun, -- If these the products be of love and pain, Oft may I suffer, and you love, again.

____ Baltimore, Christmas, 1880.

On Violet's Wafers, Sent Me When I Was Ill.

Fine-tissued as her finger-tips, and white As all her thoughts; in shape like shields of prize, As if before young Violet's dreaming eyes Still blazed the two great Theban bucklers bright That swayed the random of that furious fight Where Palamon and Arcite made a.s.size For Emily; fresh, crisp as her replies, That, not with sting, but pith, do oft invite More trial of the tongue; simple, like her, Well fitting lowlihood, yet fine as well, -- The queen's no finer; rich (though gossamer) In help to him they came to, which may tell How rich that him SHE'LL come to; thus men see, Like Violet's self e'en Violet's wafers be.

____ Baltimore, 1881.

Ireland.

Written for the Art Autograph during the Irish Famine, 1880.

Heartsome Ireland, winsome Ireland, Charmer of the sun and sea, Bright beguiler of old anguish, How could Famine frown on thee?

As our Gulf-Stream, drawn to thee-ward, Turns him from his northward flow, And our wintry western headlands Send thee summer from their snow,

Thus the main and cordial current Of our love sets over sea, -- Tender, comely, valiant Ireland, Songful, soulful, sorrowful Ireland, -- Streaming warm to comfort thee.

____ Baltimore, 1880.

Under the Cedarcroft Chestnut.

Trim set in ancient sward, his manful bole Upbore his frontage largely toward the sky.

We could not dream but that he had a soul: What virtue breathed from out his bravery!

We gazed o'erhead: far down our deepening eyes Rained glamours from his green midsummer ma.s.s.

The worth and sum of all his centuries Suffused his mighty shadow on the gra.s.s.

A Presence large, a grave and steadfast Form Amid the leaves' light play and fantasy, A calmness conquered out of many a storm, A Manhood mastered by a chestnut-tree!

Then, while his monarch fingers downward held The rugged burrs wherewith his state was rife, A voice of large authoritative Eld Seemed uttering quickly parables of life:

'How Life in truth was sharply set with ills; A kernel cased in quarrels; yea, a sphere Of stings, and hedge-hog-round of mortal quills: How most men itched to eat too soon i' the year,

'And took but wounds and worries for their pains, Whereas the wise withheld their patient hands, Nor plucked green pleasures till the sun and rains And seasonable ripenings burst all bands

'And opened wide the liberal burrs of life.'

There, O my Friend, beneath the chestnut bough, Gazing on thee immerged in modern strife, I framed a prayer of fervency -- that thou,

In soul and stature larger than thy kind, Still more to this strong Form might'st liken thee, Till thy whole Self in every fibre find The tranquil lordship of thy chestnut tree.

____ Tampa, Florida, February, 1877.

An Evening Song.

Look off, dear Love, across the sallow sands, And mark yon meeting of the sun and sea, How long they kiss in sight of all the lands.

Ah! longer, longer, we.

Now in the sea's red vintage melts the sun, As Egypt's pearl dissolved in rosy wine, And Cleopatra night drinks all. 'Tis done, Love, lay thine hand in mine.

Come forth, sweet stars, and comfort heaven's heart; Glimmer, ye waves, round else unlighted sands.

O night! divorce our sun and sky apart Never our lips, our hands.

____ 1876.

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"A Sunrise Song" leads a group of seven short poems

overlooked in earlier editions. Six of these, beginning with

"On a Palmetto", were unrevised pencillings of late date,

excepting the lines of 1866 to J. D. H.

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A Sunrise Song.

Young palmer sun, that to these shining sands Pourest thy pilgrim's tale, discoursing still Thy silver pa.s.sages of sacred lands, With news of Sepulchre and Dolorous Hill,

Canst thou be he that, yester-sunset warm, Purple with Paynim rage and wrack desire, Dashed ravening out of a dusty lair of Storm, Harried the west, and set the world on fire?

Hast thou perchance repented, Saracen Sun?

Wilt warm the world with peace and dove-desire?

Or wilt thou, ere this very day be done, Blaze Saladin still, with unforgiving fire?

____ Baltimore, 1881.