Friends of his studious hours, who thronged to teach The deep-read scholar all your varied lore, Shall he no longer seek your shelves to reach The treasure missing from his world-wide store?

This singer whom we long have held so dear Was Nature's darling, shapely, strong, and fair; Of keenest wit, of judgment crystal-clear, Easy of converse, courteous, debonair,

Fit for the loftiest or the lowliest lot, Self-poised, imperial, yet of simplest ways; At home alike in castle or in cot, True to his aim, let others blame or praise.

Freedom he found an heirloom from his sires; Song, letters, statecraft, shared his years in turn; All went to feed the nation's altar-fires Whose mourning children wreathe his funeral urn.

He loved New England,--people, language, soil, Unweaned by exile from her arid breast.

Farewell awhile, white-handed son of toil, Go with her brown-armed laborers to thy rest.

Peace to thy slumber in the forest shade!

Poet and patriot, every gift was thine; Thy name shall live while summers bloom and fade, And grateful Memory guard thy leafy shrine!

POEMS FROM OVER THE TEACUPS

TO THE ELEVEN LADIES

WHO PRESENTED ME WITH A SILVER LOVING CUP ON THE TWENTY-NINTH OF AUGUST, M DCCC Lx.x.xIX

"WHO gave this cup?" The secret thou wouldst steal Its br.i.m.m.i.n.g flood forbids it to reveal: No mortal's eye shall read it till he first Cool the red throat of thirst.

If on the golden floor one draught remain, Trust me, thy careful search will be in vain; Not till the bowl is emptied shalt thou know The names enrolled below.

Deeper than Truth lies buried in her well Those modest names the graven letters spell Hide from the sight; but wait, and thou shalt see Who the good angels be.

Whose bounty glistens in the beauteous gift That friendly hands to loving lips shall lift Turn the fair goblet when its floor is dry,-- Their names shall meet thine eye.

Count thou their number on the beads of Heaven Alas! the cl.u.s.tered Pleiads are but seven; Nay, the nine sister Muses are too few,-- The Graces must add two.

"For whom this gift?" For one who all too long Clings to his bough among the groves of song; Autumn's last leaf, that spreads its faded wing To greet a second spring.

Dear friends, kind friends, whate'er the cup may hold, Bathing its burnished depths, will change to gold Its last bright drop let thirsty Maenads drain, Its fragrance will remain.

Better love's perfume in the empty bowl Than wine's nepenthe for the aching soul; Sweeter than song that ever poet sung, It makes an old heart young!

THE PEAU DE CHAGRIN OF STATE STREET

How beauteous is the bond In the manifold array Of its promises to pay, While the eight per cent it gives And the rate at which one lives Correspond!

But at last the bough is bare Where the coupons one by one Through their ripening days have run, And the bond, a beggar now, Seeks investment anyhow, Anywhere!

CACOETHES SCRIBENDI

IF all the trees in all the woods were men; And each and every blade of gra.s.s a pen; If every leaf on every shrub and tree Turned to a sheet of foolscap; every sea Were changed to ink, and all earth's living tribes Had nothing else to do but act as scribes, And for ten thousand ages, day and night, The human race should write, and write, and write, Till all the pens and paper were used up, And the huge inkstand was an empty cup, Still would the scribblers cl.u.s.tered round its brink Call for more pens, more paper, and more ink.

THE ROSE AND THE FERN

LADY, life's sweetest lesson wouldst thou learn, Come thou with me to Love's enchanted bower High overhead the trellised roses burn; Beneath thy feet behold the feathery fern,-- A leaf without a flower.

What though the rose leaves fall? They still are sweet, And have been lovely in their beauteous prime, While the bare frond seems ever to repeat, "For us no bud, no blossom, wakes to greet The joyous flowering time!"

Heed thou the lesson. Life has leaves to tread And flowers to cherish; summer round thee glows; Wait not till autumn's fading robes are shed, But while its petals still are burning red Gather life's full-blown rose!

I LIKE YOU AND I LOVE YOU

I LIKE YOU Met I LOVE You, face to face; The path was narrow, and they could not pa.s.s.

I LIKE YOU smiled; I LOVE YOU cried, Alas!

And so they halted for a little s.p.a.ce.

"Turn thou and go before," I LOVE YOU said, "Down the green pathway, bright with many a flower; Deep in the valley, lo! my bridal bower Awaits thee." But I LIKE YOU shook his head.

Then while they lingered on the span-wide shelf That shaped a pathway round the rocky ledge, I LIKE You bared his icy dagger's edge, And first he slew I LOVE You,--then himself.

LA MAISON D'OR

(BAR HARBOR)

FROM this fair home behold on either side The restful mountains or the restless sea So the warm sheltering walls of life divide Time and its tides from still eternity.

Look on the waves: their stormy voices teach That not on earth may toil and struggle cease.

Look on the mountains: better far than speech Their silent promise of eternal peace.

TOO YOUNG FOR LOVE