Chapter 5

Little bird! happy bird! Being so near, Where e'en her slightest word Thou mayest hear, Seeing her glancing eyes, Sheen of her hair, Thou art in paradise,-- Would I were there.

I am so far away, Thou art so near; Plead with her, birdling gay, Plead with my dear. Rich be thy recompense, Fine be thy fee, If through thine eloquence She hearken me.

A BANJO SONG

Oh, dere 's lots o' keer an' trouble In dis world to swaller down; An' ol' Sorrer 's purty lively In her way o' gittin' roun'. Yet dere's times when I furgit em,-- Aches an' pains an' troubles all,-- An' it's when I tek at ebenin' My ol' banjo f'om de wall.

'Bout de time dat night is fallin' An' my daily wu'k is done, An' above de shady hilltops I kin see de settin' sun; When de quiet, restful shadders Is beginnin' jes' to fall,-- Den I take de little banjo F'om its place upon de wall.

Den my fam'ly gadders roun' me In de fadin' o' de light, Ez I strike de strings to try 'em Ef dey all is tuned er-right. An' it seems we 're so nigh heaben We kin hyeah de angels sing When de music o' dat banjo Sets my cabin all er-ring.

An' my wife an' all de othahs,-- Male an' female, small an' big,-- Even up to gray-haired granny, Seem jes' boun' to do a jig; 'Twell I change de style o' music, Change de movement an' de time, An' de ringin' little banjo Plays an ol' hea't-feelin' hime.

An' somehow my th'oat gits choky, An' a lump keeps tryin' to rise Lak it wan'ed to ketch de water Dat was flowin' to my eyes; An' I feel dat I could sorter Knock de socks clean off o' sin Ez I hyeah my po' ol' granny Wif huh tremblin' voice jine in.

Den we all th'ow in our voices Fu' to he'p de chune out too, Lak a big camp-meetin' choiry Tryin' to sing a mou'nah th'oo. An' our th'oahts let out de music, Sweet an' solemn, loud an' free, 'Twell de raftahs o' my cabin Echo wif de melody.

Oh, de music o' de banjo, Quick an' deb'lish, solemn, slow, Is de greates' joy an' solace Dat a weary slave kin know! So jes' let me hyeah it ringin', Dough de chune be po' an' rough, It's a pleasure; an' de pleasures O' dis life is few enough.

Now, de blessed little angels Up in heaben, we are told, Don't do nothin' all dere lifetime 'Ceptin' play on ha'ps o' gold. Now I think heaben 'd be mo' homelike Ef we 'd hyeah some music fall F'om a real ol'-fashioned banjo, Like dat one upon de wall.

LONGING

If you could sit with me beside the sea to-day, And whisper with me sweetest dreamings o'er and o'er; I think I should not find the clouds so dim and gray, And not so loud the waves complaining at the shore.

If you could sit with me upon the shore to-day, And hold my hand in yours as in the days of old, I think I should not mind the chill baptismal spray, Nor find my hand and heart and all the world so cold.

If you could walk with me upon the strand to-day, And tell me that my longing love had won your own, I think all my sad thoughts would then be put away, And I could give back laughter for the Ocean's moan!

THE PATH

There are no beaten paths to Glory's height, There are no rules to compass greatness known; Each for himself must cleave a path alone, And press his own way forward in the fight. Smooth is the way to ease and calm delight, And soft the road Sloth chooseth for her own; But he who craves the flower of life full-blown, Must struggle up in all his armor dight! What though the burden bear him sorely down And crush to dust the mountain of his pride, Oh, then, with strong heart let him still abide; For rugged is the roadway to renown, Nor may he hope to gain the envied crown, Till he hath thrust the looming rocks aside.

THE LAWYERS' WAYS

I 've been list'nin' to them lawyers In the court house up the street, An' I 've come to the conclusion That I'm most completely beat. Fust one feller riz to argy, An' he boldly waded in As he dressed the tremblin' pris'ner In a coat o' deep-dyed sin.

Why, he painted him all over In a hue o' blackest crime, An' he smeared his reputation With the thickest kind o' grime, Tell I found myself a-wond'rin', In a misty way and dim, How the Lord had come to fashion Sich an awful man as him.

Then the other lawyer started, An' with brimmin', tearful eyes, Said his client was a martyr That was brought to sacrifice. An' he give to that same pris'ner Every blessed human grace, Tell I saw the light o' virtue Fairly shinin' from his face.

Then I own 'at I was puzzled How sich things could rightly be; An' this aggervatin' question Seems to keep a-puzzlin' me. So, will some one please inform me, An' this mystery unroll-- How an angel an' a devil Can persess the self-same soul?

ODE FOR MEMORIAL DAY

Done are the toils and the wearisome marches, Done is the summons of bugle and drum. Softly and sweetly the sky over-arches, Shelt'ring a land where Rebellion is dumb. Dark were the days of the country's derangement, Sad were the hours when the conflict was on, But through the gloom of fraternal estrangement God sent his light, and we welcome the dawn. O'er the expanse of our mighty dominions, Sweeping away to the uttermost parts, Peace, the wide-flying, on untiring pinions, Bringeth her message of joy to our hearts.

Ah, but this joy which our minds cannot measure, What did it cost for our fathers to gain! Bought at the price of the heart's dearest treasure, Born out of travail and sorrow and pain; Born in the battle where fleet Death was flying, Slaying with sabre-stroke bloody and fell; Born where the heroes and martyrs were dying, Torn by the fury of bullet and shell. Ah, but the day is past: silent the rattle, And the confusion that followed the fight. Peace to the heroes who died in the battle, Martyrs to truth and the crowning of Right!

Out of the blood of a conflict fraternal, Out of the dust and the dimness of death, Burst into blossoms of glory eternal Flowers that sweeten the world with their breath. Flowers of charity, peace, and devotion Bloom in the hearts that are empty of strife; Love that is boundless and broad as the ocean Leaps into beauty and fulness of life. So, with the singing of paeans and chorals, And with the flag flashing high in the sun, Place on the graves of our heroes the laurels Which their unfaltering valor has won!

PREMONITION

Dear heart, good-night! Nay, list awhile that sweet voice singing When the world is all so bright, And the sound of song sets the heart a-ringing, Oh, love, it is not right-- Not then to say, "Good-night."

Dear heart, good-night! The late winds in the lake weeds shiver, And the spray flies cold and white. And the voice that sings gives a telltale quiver-- "Ah, yes, the world is bright, But, dearest heart, good-night!"

Dear heart, good-night! And do not longer seek to hold me! For my soul is in affright As the fearful glooms in their pall enfold me. See him who sang how white And still; so, dear, good-night.

Dear heart, good-night! Thy hand I 'll press no more forever, And mine eyes shall lose the light; For the great white wraith by the winding river Shall check my steps with might. So, dear, good-night, good-night!

RETROSPECTION

When you and I were young, the days Were filled with scent of pink and rose, And full of joy from dawn till close, From morning's mist till evening's haze. And when the robin sung his song The verdant woodland ways along, We whistled louder than he sung. And school was joy, and work was sport For which the hours were all too short, When you and I were young, my boy, When you and I were young.

When you and I were young, the woods Brimmed bravely o'er with every joy To charm the happy-hearted boy. The quail turned out her timid broods; The prickly copse, a hostess fine, Held high black cups of harmless wine; And low the laden grape-vine swung With beads of night-kissed amethyst Where buzzing lovers held their tryst, When you and I were young, my boy, When you and I were young.

When you and I were young, the cool And fresh wind fanned our fevered brows When tumbling o'er the scented mows, Or stripping by the dimpling pool, Sedge-fringed about its shimmering face, Save where we 'd worn an ent'ring place. How with our shouts the calm banks rung! How flashed the spray as we plunged in,-- Pure gems that never caused a sin! When you and I were young, my boy, When you and I were young.

When you and I were young, we heard All sounds of Nature with delight,-- The whirr of wing in sudden flight, The chirping of the baby-bird. The columbine's red bells were rung; The locust's vested chorus sung; While every wind his zithern strung To high and holy-sounding keys, And played sonatas in the trees-- When you and I were young, my boy, When you and I were young.

When you and I were young, we knew To shout and laugh, to work and play, And night was partner to the day In all our joys. So swift time flew On silent wings that, ere we wist, The fleeting years had fled unmissed; And from our hearts this cry was wrung-- To fill with fond regret and tears The days of our remaining years-- "When you and I were young, my boy, When you and I were young."

UNEXPRESSED

Deep in my heart that aches with the repression, And strives with plenitude of bitter pain, There lives a thought that clamors for expression, And spends its undelivered force in vain.

What boots it that some other may have thought it? The right of thoughts' expression is divine; The price of pain I pay for it has bought it, I care not who lays claim to it--'t is mine!

And yet not mine until it be delivered; The manner of its birth shall prove the test. Alas, alas, my rock of pride is shivered-- I beat my brow--the thought still unexpressed.

SONG OF SUMMER

Dis is gospel weathah sho'-- Hills is sawt o' hazy. Meddahs level ez a flo' Callin' to de lazy. Sky all white wif streaks o' blue, Sunshine softly gleamin', D'ain't no wuk hit's right to do, Nothin' 's right but dreamin'.

Dreamin' by de rivah side Wif de watahs glist'nin', Feelin' good an' satisfied Ez you lay a-list'nin' To the little nakid boys Splashin' in de watah, Hollerin' fu' to spress deir joys Jes' lak youngsters ought to.

Squir'l a-tippin' on his toes, So 's to hide an' view you; Whole flocks o' camp-meetin' crows Shoutin' hallelujah. Peckahwood erpon de tree Tappin' lak a hammah; Jaybird chattin' wif a bee, Tryin' to teach him grammah.

Breeze is blowin' wif perfume, Jes' enough to tease you; Hollyhocks is all in bloom, Smellin' fu' to please you. Go 'way, folks, an' let me 'lone, Times is gettin' dearah-- Summah's settin' on de th'one, An' I 'm a-layin' neah huh!

SPRING SONG

A blue-bell springs upon the ledge, A lark sits singing in the hedge; Sweet perfumes scent the balmy air, And life is brimming everywhere. What lark and breeze and bluebird sing, Is Spring, Spring, Spring!

No more the air is sharp and cold; The planter wends across the wold, And, glad, beneath the shining sky We wander forth, my love and I. And ever in our hearts doth ring This song of Spring, Spring!

For life is life and love is love, 'Twixt maid and man or dove and dove. Life may be short, life may be long, But love will come, and to its song Shall this refrain for ever cling Of Spring, Spring, Spring!

TO LOUISE

Oh, the poets may sing of their Lady Irenes, And may rave in their rhymes about wonderful queens; But I throw my poetical wings to the breeze, And soar in a song to my Lady Louise. A sweet little maid, who is dearer, I ween, Than any fair duchess, or even a queen. When speaking of her I can't plod in my prose, For she 's the wee lassie who gave me a rose.

Since poets, from seeing a lady's lip curled, Have written fair verse that has sweetened the world; Why, then, should not I give the space of an hour To making a song in return for a flower? I have found in my life--it has not been so long-- There are too few of flowers--too little of song. So out of that blossom, this lay of mine grows, For the dear little lady who gave me the rose.

I thank God for innocence, dearer than Art, That lights on a by-way which leads to the heart, And led by an impulse no less than divine, Walks into the temple and sits at the shrine. I would rather pluck daisies that grow in the wild, Or take one simple rose from the hand of a child, Then to breathe the rich fragrance of flowers that bide In the gardens of luxury, passion, and pride.

I know not, my wee one, how came you to know Which way to my heart was the right way to go; Unless in your purity, soul-clean and clear, God whispers his messages into your ear. You have now had my song, let me end with a prayer That your life may be always sweet, happy, and fair; That your joys may be many, and absent your woes, O dear little lady who gave me the rose!

THE RIVALS

'T was three an' thirty year ago, When I was ruther young, you know, I had my last an' only fight About a gal one summer night. 'T was me an' Zekel Johnson; Zeke 'N' me 'd be'n spattin' 'bout a week, Each of us tryin' his best to show That he was Liza Jones's beau. We could n't neither prove the thing, Fur she was fur too sharp to fling One over fur the other one An' by so doin' stop the fun That we chaps did n't have the sense To see she got at our expense, But that's the way a feller does, Fur boys is fools an' allus was. An' when they's females in the game I reckon men's about the same. Well, Zeke an' me went on that way An' fussed an' quarrelled day by day; While Liza, mindin' not the fuss, Jest kep' a-goin' with both of us, Tell we pore chaps, that's Zeke an' me, Was jest plum mad with jealousy. Well, fur a time we kep' our places, An' only showed by frownin' faces An' looks 'at well our meanin' boded How full o' fight we both was loaded. At last it come, the thing broke out, An' this is how it come about. One night ('t was fair, you'll all agree) I got Eliza's company, An' leavin' Zekel in the lurch, Went trottin' off with her to church. An' jest as we had took our seat (Eliza lookin' fair an' sweet), Why, I jest could n't help but grin When Zekel come a-bouncin' in As furious as the law allows. He 'd jest be'n up to Liza's house, To find her gone, then come to church To have this end put to his search. I guess I laffed that meetin' through, An' not a mortal word I knew Of what the preacher preached er read Er what the choir sung er said. Fur every time I 'd turn my head I could n't skeercely help but see 'At Zekel had his eye on me. An' he 'ud sort o' turn an' twist An' grind his teeth an' shake his fist. I laughed, fur la! the hull church seen us, An' knowed that suthin' was between us. Well, meetin' out, we started hum, I sorter feelin' what would come. We 'd jest got out, when up stepped Zeke, An' said, "Scuse me, I 'd like to speak To you a minute." "Cert," said I-- A-nudgin' Liza on the sly An' laughin' in my sleeve with glee, I asked her, please, to pardon me. We walked away a step er two, Jest to git out o' Liza's view, An' then Zeke said, "I want to know Ef you think you 're Eliza's beau, An' 'at I 'm goin' to let her go Hum with sich a chap as you?" An' I said bold, "You bet I do." Then Zekel, sneerin', said 'at he Did n't want to hender me. But then he 'lowed the gal was his An' 'at he guessed he knowed his biz, An' was n't feared o' all my kin With all my friends an' chums throwed in. Some other things he mentioned there That no born man could no ways bear Er think o' ca'mly tryin' to stan' Ef Zeke had be'n the bigges' man In town, an' not the leanest runt 'At time an' labor ever stunt. An' so I let my fist go "bim," I thought I 'd mos' nigh finished him. But Zekel did n't take it so. He jest ducked down an' dodged my blow An' then come back at me so hard, I guess I must 'a' hurt the yard, Er spilet the grass plot where I fell, An' sakes alive it hurt me; well, It would n't be'n so bad, you see, But he jest kep' a-hittin' me. An' I hit back an' kicked an' pawed, But 't seemed 't was mostly air I clawed, While Zekel used his science well A-makin' every motion tell. He punched an' hit, why, goodness lands, Seemed like he had a dozen hands. Well, afterwhile they stopped the fuss, An' some one kindly parted us. All beat an' cuffed an' clawed an' scratched, An' needin' both our faces patched, Each started hum a different way; An' what o' Liza, do you say, Why, Liza--little humbug--dern her, Why, she 'd gone home with Hiram Turner.

THE LOVER AND THE MOON

A lover whom duty called over the wave, With himself communed: "Will my love be true If left to herself? Had I better not sue Some friend to watch over her, good and grave? But my friend might fail in my need," he said, "And I return to find love dead. Since friendships fade like the flow'rs of June, I will leave her in charge of the stable moon."

Then he said to the moon: "O dear old moon, Who for years and years from thy thrown above Hast nurtured and guarded young lovers and love, My heart has but come to its waiting June, And the promise time of the budding vine; Oh, guard thee well this love of mine." And he harked him then while all was still, And the pale moon answered and said, "I will."

And he sailed in his ship o'er many seas, And he wandered wide o'er strange far strands: In isles of the south and in Orient lands, Where pestilence lurks in the breath of the breeze. But his star was high, so he braved the main, And sailed him blithely home again; And with joy he bended his footsteps soon To learn of his love from the matron moon.

She sat as of yore, in her olden place, Serene as death, in her silver chair. A white rose gleamed in her whiter hair, And the tint of a blush was on her face. At sight of the youth she sadly bowed And hid her face 'neath a gracious cloud. She faltered faint on the night's dim marge, But "How," spoke the youth, "have you kept your charge?"

The moon was sad at a trust ill-kept; The blush went out in her blanching cheek, And her voice was timid and low and weak, As she made her plea and sighed and wept. "Oh, another prayed and another plead, And I could n't resist," she answering said; "But love still grows in the hearts of men: Go forth, dear youth, and love again."

But he turned him away from her proffered grace. "Thou art false, O moon, as the hearts of men, I will not, will not love again." And he turned sheer 'round with a soul-sick face To the sea, and cried: "Sea, curse the moon, Who makes her vows and forgets so soon." And the awful sea with anger stirred, And his breast heaved hard as he lay and heard.

And ever the moon wept down in rain, And ever her sighs rose high in wind; But the earth and sea were deaf and blind, And she wept and sighed her griefs in vain. And ever at night, when the storm is fierce, The cries of a wraith through the thunder pierce; And the waves strain their awful hands on high To tear the false moon from the sky.

CONSCIENCE AND REMORSE

"Good-bye," I said to my conscience-- "Good-bye for aye and aye," And I put her hands off harshly, And turned my face away; And conscience smitten sorely Returned not from that day.

But a time came when my spirit Grew weary of its pace; And I cried: "Come back, my conscience; I long to see thy face." But conscience cried: "I cannot; Remorse sits in my place."

IONE

I

Ah, yes, 't is sweet still to remember, Though 'twere less painful to forget; For while my heart glows like an ember, Mine eyes with sorrow's drops are wet, And, oh, my heart is aching yet. It is a law of mortal pain That old wounds, long accounted well, Beneath the memory's potent spell, Will wake to life and bleed again.

So 't is with me; it might be better If I should turn no look behind,-- If I could curb my heart, and fetter From reminiscent gaze my mind, Or let my soul go blind--go blind! But would I do it if I could? Nay! ease at such a price were spurned; For, since my love was once returned, All that I suffer seemeth good.

I know, I know it is the fashion, When love has left some heart distressed, To weight the air with wordful passion; But I am glad that in my breast I ever held so dear a guest. Love does not come at every nod, Or every voice that calleth "hasten;" He seeketh out some heart to chasten, And whips it, wailing, up to God!

Love is no random road wayfarer Who where he may must sip his glass. Love is the King, the Purple-Wearer, Whose guard recks not of tree or grass To blaze the way that he may pass. What if my heart be in the blast That heralds his triumphant way; Shall I repine, shall I not say: "Rejoice, my heart, the King has passed!"

In life, each heart holds some sad story-- The saddest ones are never told. I, too, have dreamed of fame and glory, And viewed the future bright with gold; But that is as a tale long told. Mine eyes have lost their youthful flash, My cunning hand has lost its art; I am not old, but in my heart The ember lies beneath the ash.

I loved! Why not? My heart was youthful, My mind was filled with healthy thought. He doubts not whose own self is truthful, Doubt by dishonesty is taught; So loved I boldly, fearing naught. I did not walk this lowly earth; Mine was a newer, higher sphere, Where youth was long and life was dear, And all save love was little worth.

Her likeness! Would that I might limn it, As Love did, with enduring art; Nor dust of days nor death may dim it, Where it lies graven on my heart, Of this sad fabric of my life a part. I would that I might paint her now As I beheld her in that day, Ere her first bloom had passed away, And left the lines upon her brow.

A face serene that, beaming brightly, Disarmed the hot sun's glances bold. A foot that kissed the ground so lightly, He frowned in wrath and deemed her cold, But loved her still though he was old. A form where every maiden grace Bloomed to perfection's richest flower,-- The statued pose of conscious power, Like lithe-limbed Dian's of the chase.

Beneath a brow too fair for frowning, Like moon-lit deeps that glass the skies Till all the hosts above seem drowning, Looked forth her steadfast hazel eyes, With gaze serene and purely wise. And over all, her tresses rare, Which, when, with his desire grown weak, The Night bent down to kiss her cheek, Entrapped and held him captive there.

This was Ione; a spirit finer Ne'er burned to ash its house of clay; A soul instinct with fire diviner Ne'er fled athwart the face of day, And tempted Time with earthly stay. Her loveliness was not alone Of face and form and tresses' hue: For aye a pure, high soul shone through Her every act: this was Ione.

II