A sterner nature marks the soul, Men's lips draw near the cup of life, They wait to hear the centuries' roll That bring the kingly crowns of strife.

The spring-time months and summer years Beside the Autumn days are laid, Beneath the grave of conquered fears, Beneath the sloping hill-side's shade.

And deeper joy, serener faith, Spring forth the golden crowns to grasp, While death, the monarch, gently lay'th Upon their brows a kinglier clasp.

They wait no more the golden crown; Men, trees, the careless days of strife, Drift onward to the far, sweet town,-- G.o.d's kingdom of eternal life.

SEA ECHOES.

I walk not by the sounding sea; I dwell full many leagues from sh.o.r.e And still an echo drifts to me Of the eternal, constant roar Of waves, that beetle past the crags And moan in weary flights of song Where wet sea moss and coral drags The shiny lengths of sand along.

I see beyond the friendly vales, And grand old hills that guard my home, To where the seaward petrel sails And storm winds of the Northland moan.

I live again in brighter days, New-born from dreams of the dead past, When she and I stood there to gaze At sparkling hull, and spar, and mast

Of some staunch sea-craft bound amain At will of wayward wind and fate, Deep plunging in the waves to gain Some northern isle, or rich estate Of palm and pine in southward clime, Where all day long the playful air Pranks with the grizzled beard of time And paints his h.o.a.ry visage fair.

Within the dim, old forests here, I wander now long leagues from sh.o.r.e, And still the old song haunts my ear, The century singing ocean's roar; And now I know, fond soul of love; Why still the murmurous echoes live, And sound for aye the hills above That back to earth the music give;

She, too, walked there in dreams with me, In love's sweet unity we trod The moon-bathed sands, and swore to be Forever true before our G.o.d.

I see it still, her pale, calm face, With angel love-light in her eyes, And ever there, beside such grace, A dim, sweet token of surprise.

Oh, tender touch of one soft hand!

I held it then in simple trust, Alas, ye waves that lick the sand!

How long has that hand lain in dust?

I see her soul in yonder star, I see the soft lines of her face, And could G.o.d so unkindly mar That angel beauty and its grace?

Roll, murmuring echoes of the sea!

Repeat thy sweet, immortal moan, Drift ever inland unto me Within my sunny Southern home; And it shall be a tender dream-- Thy plaintive music thrilling me, And her star face above--shall seem Like other days beside the sea When our lips touched eternally.

WHERE FANCY DWELLS.

The sea winds blow from western isles, From isles where fancy dwells and peace.

Where summer sunshine softly smiles And perfumes of the far off east Float over waves white-capped with foam That glisten in the pale sweet light Shed from the far eternal dome Where fair star faces paint the night.

Life must have rest sometime, somewhere, On land or wave its peace shall be, And I have found my life's fond share In yon fair isle of Hebride; In yon fair isle where all day long The sunlight shadows drift and float And all the world seems bathed in song Borne trembling from the skylark's throat.

O! isle of peace, the waves that kiss Thy beaches all the centuries through, Flow from mysterious founts of bliss From founts o'er run with sunny dew, And o'er thy tree-tops lazily The perfumed breezes come and go With odors from that far countree Where eglantine and jessamine grow.

Fair isle of summer, isle of love, Where souls forget their bitter strife And mingled sadnesses that move In tempests o'er the sea of life; I kiss thy fair sh.o.r.e with my knee, And lift a thankful heart to G.o.d, For perfect joy comes unto me Where thy trees' blossomed branches nod.

Thy long sea waves float in beyond The dim blue lines of sunlit sky, Where films of cloudy lacework frond The billows tumbling mountain high; And sh.o.r.eward in the still sweet eve The low songs of the mermaids drift, As in some coral grot they weave Their seaweed robes, and sometimes lift

Their long, strong, tangled lengths of hair Above the bosom of the wave, While 'mid its golden meshes fair The distant sunbeams stoop to lave.

Sweet isle of fancy, far beyond The dark dim vales of human woe, My bark of love sails o'er the fond Blue waves that ever sh.o.r.eward flow.

My bark sails on the unknown sea Led by a large, pale star alone, That star wherein her face may be, Who to that better land hath gone.

O, never turn, brave white-sailed ship, Again towards that barren sh.o.r.e But bear me on the waves that dip And kiss yon isle forevermore.

Sweet day of rest when toil is past, When hearts can lay their burdens by And feel the peace G.o.d's angels cast In isleward flights from his fair sky!

Sweet isle of love where fancy dwells, And nature knows no pang of care, I hear the music of its bells Far floating on the evening air.

I hear the lonely shepherd's song Flow down the green and mossy vale, And westward all the calm night long The restless sea gulls sail.

I sometimes turn towards the stars With sudden shock of glad surprise, And half believe these island bars Are but the gates to Paradise.

AT KEY'S GRAVE.

I stood one summer, friend, beside The foam waves of a distant sea That muttered all the summer through A low sweet threnody.

A mournful song was ever on The lips that it were death to kiss, A song for those who died as died The brave at ancient Salamis.

A thousand graves lay in the trough Of that great ocean of the East, A thousand souls fled through its foam Towards the starlit land of peace.

And for each ship-wrecked soul that slept Beneath the dark inconstant waves The wind gave songs in memory Of men true-hearted, pure and brave.

But I have stood, sweet-singer, by Thy lonely, unmarked grave to-day, And all the songs thy memory got Came from the branches in their sway.

Ah, peace! ah, love! ah, friendship true!

No wreath rests here wove by your hands To mark the Poet's silent tomb.

As tombs are marked in other lands.

But in my noon-day dream there came From the fair bosom of the hills The voice of some sweet psalmist, thus-- "'Tis so G.o.d wills, 'tis so G.o.d wills."

THE ETERNAL LIFE.

I care not for the life that is, I think not of the things that are; I live, oh! soul of tenderness, Beneath an angel blessedness That draws its light from one small star.

I know not if the world be ill, I care not for its throb of pain, I live, oh heart, in fellowship With other hearts that rise and dip In the great sea that floods the main

From east to west with tides of love-- The ocean of Eternal Life, Whose waves flow ever free and warm From land of snow to land of palm And heal the naked wounds of strife.

I only know G.o.d's law is just, And that is all we need to know, I live down creeds of hate and spite, I build the n.o.bler creeds of right That beautify our beings so.

The days are brief that come apace, When morn wakes up and night sinks down, But far beyond the hills of jet The glory of the sweet sunset Lights all the steeples of the town

Within whose walls no sadness lives, No broken hearts, no simple strife, For that I live, oh soul of faith, For that whereof the Master saith "Here find eternal love and life."