Part 39 (1/2)

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 s.h.i.+ny 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 suns.h.i.+ne 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.