The sin, if sin it was, I do repent, And take the penance on myself alone; Yet after I have borne the punishment, I shall not fear to stand before the throne Of Love with open heart, and make this plea: "At least I have not lied to her nor Thee!"

GRAt.i.tUDE

Do you give thanks for this?--or that?"

No, G.o.d be thanked I am not grateful In that cold, calculating way, with blessing ranked As one, two, three, and four,--that would be hateful.

I only know that every day brings good above My poor deserving; I only feel that, in the road of Life, true Love Is leading me along and never swerving.

Whatever gifts and mercies in my lot may fall, I would not measure As worth a certain price in praise, or great or small; But take and use them all with simple pleasure.

For when we gladly eat our daily bread, we bless The Hand that feeds us; And when we tread the road of Life in cheer- fulness, Our very heart-beats praise the Love that leads us.

MASTER OF MUSIC

(In memory of Theodore Thomas, 1905)

Glory of architect, glory of painter, and sculp- tor, and bard, Living forever in temple and picture and statue and song,-- Look how the world with the lights that they lit is illumined and starred, Brief was the flame of their life, but the lamps of their art burn long!

Where is the Master of Music, and how has he vanished away?

Where is the work that he wrought with his wonderful art in the air?

Gone,--it is gone like the glow on the cloud at the close of the day!

The Master has finished his work, and the glory of music is--where?

Once, at the wave of his wand, all the billows of musical sound Followed his will, as the sea was ruled by the prophet of old: Now that his hand is relaxed, and his rod has dropped to the ground, Silent and dark are the sh.o.r.es where the mar- vellous harmonies rolled!

Nay, but not silent the hearts that were filled by that life-giving sea; Deeper and purer forever the tides of their being will roll, Grateful and joyful, O Master, because they have listened to thee,-- The glory of music endures in the depths of the human soul.

STARS AND THE SOUL

(To Charles A. Young, Astronomer)

"Two things," the wise man said, "fill me with awe: The starry heavens and the moral law."

Nay, add another wonder to thy roll,-- The living marvel of the human soul!

Born in the dust and cradled in the dark, It feels the fire of an immortal spark, And learns to read, with patient, searching eyes, The splendid secret of the unconscious skies.

For G.o.d thought Light before He spoke the word; The darkness understood not, though it heard: But man looks up to where the planets swim, And thinks G.o.d's thoughts of glory after Him.

What knows the star that guides the sailor's way, Or lights the lover's bower with liquid ray, Of toil and pa.s.sion, danger and distress, Brave hope, true love, and utter faithfulness?

But human hearts that suffer good and ill, And hold to virtue with a loyal will, Adorn the law that rules our mortal strife With star-surpa.s.sing victories of life.

So take our thanks, dear reader of the skies, Devout astronomer, most humbly wise, For lessons brighter than the stars can give, And inward light that helps us all to live.

The world has brought the laurel-leaves to crown The star-discoverer's name with high, renown; Accept the flower of love we lay with these For influence sweeter than the Pleiades!

TO JULIA MARLOWE

(Reading Keats' Ode on a Grecian Urn)

Long had I loved this "Attic shape," the brede Of marble maidens round this urn divine: But when your golden voice began to read, The empty urn was filled with Chian wine.

PAN LEARNS MUSIC

Limber-limbed, lazy G.o.d, stretched on the rock, Where is sweet Echo, and where is your flock?

What are you making here? "Listen," said Pan,-- "Out of a river-reed music for man!"

"UNDINE"

'Twas far away and long ago, When I was but a dreaming boy, This fairy tale of love and woe Entranced my heart with tearful joy; And while with white Undine I wept, Your spirit,--ah, how strange it seems, Was cradled in some star, and slept, Unconscious of her coming dreams.

LOVE IN A LOOK

Let me but feel thy look's embrace, Transparent, pure, and warm, And I'll not ask to touch thy face, Or fold thee with mine arm.

For in thine eyes a girl doth rise, Arrayed in candid bliss, And draws me to her with a charm More close than any kiss.

A loving-cup of golden wine, Songs of a silver brook, And fragrant breaths of eglantine, Are mingled in thy look.

More fair they are than any star, Thy topaz eyes divine-- And deep within their trysting-nook Thy spirit blends with mine.

MY APRIL LADY

When down the stair at morning The sunbeams round her float, Sweet rivulets of laughter Are bubbling in her throat; The gladness of her greeting Is gold without alloy; And in the morning sunlight I think her name is Joy.

When in the evening twilight The quiet book-room lies, We read the sad old ballads, While from her hidden eyes The tears are falling, falling, That give her heart relief; And in the evening twilight, I think her name is Grief.

My little April lady, Of sunshine and of showers, She weaves the old spring magic, And breaks my heart in flowers!

But when her moods are ended, She nestles like a dove; Then, by the pain and rapture, I know her name is Love.

A LOVER'S ENVY

I envy every flower that blows Along the meadow where she goes, And every bird that sings to her, And every breeze that brings to her The fragrance of the rose.

I envy every poet's rhyme That moves her heart at eventime, And every tree that wears for her Its brightest bloom, and bears for her The fruitage of its prime.

I envy every Southern night That paves her path with moonbeams white, And silvers all the leaves for her, And in their shadow weaves for her A dream of dear delight.

I envy none whose love requires Of her a gift, a task that tires: I only long to live to her, I only ask to give to her All that her heart desires.

THE HERMIT THRUSH

O wonderful! How liquid clear The molten gold of that ethereal tone, Floating and falling through the wood alone, A hermit-hymn poured out for G.o.d to hear!

O holy, holy, holy! Hyaline, Long light, low light, glory of eventide!

Love far away, far up,--up,--love divine!

Little love, too, for ever, ever near, Warm love, earth love, tender love of mine, In the leafy dark where you hide, You are mine,--mine,--mine!

Ah, my beloved, do you feel with me The hidden virtue of that melody, The rapture and the purity of love, The heavenly joy that can not find the word?

Then, while we wait again to hear the bird, Come very near to me, and do not move,-- Now, hermit of the woodland, fill anew The cool, green cup of air with harmony, And we will drink the wine of love with you.

FIRE-FLY CITY