xt7z348gft6s https://exploreuk.uky.edu/dips/xt7z348gft6s/data/mets.xml Cawein, Madison Julius, 1865-1914. 1913  books b92-188-30608525 English Stewart & Kidd, : Cincinnati : Contact the Special Collections Research Center for information regarding rights and use of this collection. Minions of the moon  : a little book of song and story / by Madison Cawein. text Minions of the moon  : a little book of song and story / by Madison Cawein. 1913 2002 true xt7z348gft6s section xt7z348gft6s 
 
 

















Minions of the Moon

 



Minions of the Moon

     A Little Book of Song and Story

                 By
       MADISON CAWEIN
           Author of - The Republic," etc.
               Illustrated



STEWART  KIDD COMPANY
PUBLISHERS  -  -  -   CINCINNATI

 



























- COPYRIGHTED. 1913. BY
STEWART M KIDD COMPANY

  All Rights Reserved.
  Copyright in England.

 
































                 TO

    ALL CHILDREN, BIG AND LITTLE,

WHO HAVE EVER BELIEVED, OR STILL BELIEVE IN,
   FAERIES, I DEDICATE THIS LITTLE BOOK,
       THAT ATTEMPTS TO SET FORTH
         IN WORDS ALL THAT SUCH
           A BELIEF MAY MEAN
              TO THE SOUL
              OF MAN.

 






















F OR permission to reprint
   certain of the poems here-
with presented thanks are due
to "The Century Magazine."
"Scribner's," "Youth's Com-
panion,"'' "The Bookman,''
"The Forum," "Outlook,"
"Independent," " Interna-
tional," "The Yale Review,"
" Harper's Weekly," "The
Poetry Journal," " Poetry,"
and to "The Poetry Review,"
of London, England.


 





TABLE OF CONTENTS



           MINIONS OF THE MOON
Prologue,
Wood Dreams,   -    -   -    -
Minions of the Moon,  
The Moon in the Wood, -
The Moon Spirit,  -   -
Loveliness,
The Night-Rain,
The Dream Child, -
Romance,
The Wood God,   -   -   -    -
The Woodland Waterfall,
The Dead Dream,
The Sea Faery,
My Lady of the Beeches,   -    -
The Wood Anemone,
Pixy Wood,
The Gray Sisters,
The Faery Pipe,-    -   -    -
The Forest of Old Enchantment,
The House of Moss,
Rose and Redbird, -   -   -   -
The Dance of Summer,
A Forest Flute,
Bubbles,  
Love and the Wind, -  -   -   -
The Dream in the Wood,
                     7



    Page
    I I
    1 5
  - 22
    25
    27
    28
    29
    331
- - 33
    36
  - 39
    41
  - 42
    44
  - 46
    49
  - 51
    53
  - 55
    57
  - 59
    62
  - 64
    65
  - 66
    67

 




The Forest of Fear,
There are Faires, -



               SONG AND STORY
The Vikings,  -    -   -   -
Treasure Trove,     -  -   -  -
Service,
At the Fall of Dew,
Unmasked, -    -
The Heart's Own Day, -   -    -
The Ribbon,   -    -    -
The Plough Boy,  -
The Dittany,  -   -
"The Old Remain,"     -
The Old Home, -    -   -   -
A Summer Day,   -    -   -
The Old Garden,
The Yellow Puccoon,  -   -
The Old Creek, -   -   -
The Close of Summer, -   -    -
The Hunter's Moon, -    -
The Grasshopper, -   -   -
The Coward,
Shadows on the Shore, -  -    -
Wasteland,
The Old House in the Wood,
One Who Died Young,
Failure,
The New God, -     -    -
Dies Illa,  -    -   -   -    -
Epilogue, -   -    -   -   -
                      8



           77
  - - -    82
         - 86
           88
         -90
           93
         - 95
           98
         - 99
         100
- -  - - - 102
          105
        - 107
          109

          113
        - 115
          116
        - 117
  -   -   120
- -  - - - 122
          124
- - -   - 127
    - -   128
        - 129
          130
        - 131



  Page
- 68
  71


 





              ILLUSTRATIONS

Minions of the Moon,


Wood Dreams,
"Revels the Moon did light," -
Rose and Redbird,   -   -   -
There are Fairies,
"Lift the Mushroom's rosy chin,"
Unmasked,    -   -    -    -    -
"While EJfland beats a beetle Drum au
   fiddle tunes,"  -   -    -    -



  - Frontispiece

           Page
     - -  19
      - -  48
    -  -  59
      - -  71
    -   -  72
      --   90
Ad cricket
    -   - 112

 This page in the original text is blank.

 





          PROLOGUE

W    HAT loveliness the years contrive
        To rob us of! what exquisite
  Beliefs, in which thought chanced to hit
On truths that with the world survive !
Dream-truths, that still attend their flocks
  On the high hills of heart and mind,
Peopling the streams, the woods and rocks
  With Beauty running like the wind.

They are not dead; but year by year
  Still hold us through the inner eye
  Of thought, and so can never die
As long as there's one heart to hear
Nature addressing words of love,
  (As once she spoke to Rome and Greece,)-
Unto the soul, whose faith shall prove
  The dream will last though all else cease.



I1

 This page in the original text is blank.


 















MINIONS OF THE MOON

 This page in the original text is blank.


 





WOOD DREAMS



A BOUT the time when bluebells swing
A    Their elfin belfries for the bee
And in the fragrant House of Spring
  Wild Music moves; and Fantasy
  Sits weaving webs of witchery:
And Beauty's self in silence leans
  Above the brook and through her hair
  Beholds her face reflected there,
And wonders what the vision means-
About the time when bluebells swing,

I found a path of glooms and gleams,
  A way that Childhood oft has gone,
That leads into the Wood of Dreams,
  Where, as of old, dwell Fay and Faun,
  And FaErie dances until dawn;
And Elfland calls from her blue cave,
  Or, starbright, on her snow-white steed,
  Rides blowing on a silver reed
That Magic follows like a slave
I found a path of glooms and gleams.

And in that Wood I came again
  On old enchantments.-There, behold,
I saw them pass, a kingly train,
  Fable and Legend, wise and old,
  In garb of glimmering green and gold:
                 15

 



While far away forgotten bells
  And horns of Faerie made faint sound;
  And all the anxious heaven around
And earth grew gossamered with spells,
And whirled with ouphen feet again.
And, lo, I saw the ancient Hall
  Of Story rise, where Dreams conspire
With Words and Music to enthrall
  The Yearning of the soul's desire,
  Holding it fast with charmed fire:
Where Glamour bows in servitude;
  And, Lord of Ecstasy and Awe,
  Song, with his henchmen, Lore and Law,
Sits 'mid the mighty Brotherhood
Of Beauty in that twilight Hall.
Then far away the forest rang
  With something more than bugle calls:
A voice, a summons wild that sang,
  As if Adventure in his halls
  Awoke; or Daring on the walls
Shouted to Youth to take his stand
  Before the wizard-guarded tower
  Where Love, within her secret bower,
Beckons him on with moon-white hand-
Why was it that the forest rang
And then I knew: It was my Sprite,
  My Witch, whose spells had led me far:
Who held me with the old delight,
  And drew my soul beyond the bar
  Of all the real, like a star.
                16

 




How long ago, how far that day,
  Since first I met her in the wild!
  And on my face her white face smiled,
And my child fears she soothed away!
Ay! ay! 'twas she-my airy Sprite!
And on my heart again the hour
  Flashed as when first she gazed at me;
Her loveliness clothed on with power
  And joy and godlike mystery,
  A portion of Earth's ecstasy:
Again I felt, in ways unknown,
  Down in my soul a memory waken
  Of some far kiss once given and taken,
That made me hers, her very own,
Once every year for one brief hour.
A Dryad laughed among the trees;
  A Naiad flashed with limbs a-spark;
A Satyr reached rough arms to seize;
  A Faun foot danced adown the dark
  To music of rude pipes of bark:
Earth crowded all its shapes around,
  Myths, bare and beautiful of breast,
  'Mid whom pursuing passion pressed,
Wild, Pan-like, leaping from the ground.-
A Dryad laughed among the trees.
Then Elfdom, in a starlike rain,
  To right and left rose blossom-slim;
And urged its Joy in twinkling train
  Down many a flower and rainbow rim
  Of moonbeam. Fancy sat with Whim:
                 17



2

 



And from the ferns gleamed glowworm eyes,
  Where Faerie held its Court; and, green,
  An impish spirit ran between,
With Puck-like laughter of surprise,
And firefly flickerings, wild as rain.
Then suddenly a light that grew,
  And in the light-my Witch! who stood,
As crystal-evident as dew,
  Weaving a spell that made the wood
  Take on a dream's similitude:-
And, lo, through radiance and pertume
  I saw Romance, crowned with a crown,
  And Chivalry come riding down,
On two great steeds, all gold and gloom,
Round whom the splendor grew and grew..
And of the Dream the forest dreams
  Again my soul becomes a part:
Again my magic armor gleams;
  Again beneath its steel my heart
  Throbs all impatient for the start.
Again the towers of Time and Chance
  Loom grimly, where, forever fair,
  Wrapped in the glory of her hair,
Beauty lies bound by Necromance,
The Beauty that we know in dreams.
And, as before, again I smile,
  Delaying still to break the spell,
Facing the gateway of old Guile,
  Where hangs the slug-horn that shall knell
  Defiance to the Courts of Hell.-
                 18


 







































" Then Elfdom, in a starlike rain,
  To right and left rose blossom-slim."



"I e I
 pI

 



What though around me, torch on torch,
  The eyes of Danger, glowering, wait!
  What though Death heaves a sword of hate
Beneath the gate's enchanted arch!-
I raise the horn again and smile.
What now, 0 Night, shall make me pause-
  I face the darkness of the tomb,
That stirs with clank of iron claws,
  And threatenings of gigantic doom,
  The monster in the granite gloom.
And then full in the face of Night
  I hurl my challenge, blast on blast-
  The drawbridge thunders; and the vast
Echoes with batlike wings in flight.-
There is no thing to give me pause.
My heart sings, bounding to its quest.
  I mount the stairs to where she sleeps,
A rose upon her brow and breast,
  And in her long hair's golden deeps
  The glory of the youth she keeps.-
I kneel again; I clasp her there;
  I kiss her mouth; but, lo, behold!
  Her beauty crumbles into mold,
And all the castle goes in air,
And with it all my heart's high quest. . .
And in the wood I wake again.
  The Dream is gone as is the child,
Who followed far in rapture's train,
  And by a vision was beguiled,-
  The Witch, the Presence undefiled,
                20

 



Whose call still sounds o'er holt and hollow,
  An elfin bugle, in the morn;
  And in the eve a faery horn,
Bidding the dreaming heart to follow,--
The child in man that hears again.

For what we dream is never lost.-
  Dreams mold the soul within the clay.
The rapture and the Pentecost
  Of beauty shape our lives some way:
  They are the beam, the guiding ray,
That Nature dowers us with at birth,-
  And, like the light upon the crown
  Of some dark hill, that towers down,
Point us to Heaven, not to Earth,
Above the world where dreams are lost.



21


 




MINIONS OF THE MOON



                  I
PIROUGH leafy windows of the trees
       The full moon shows a wrinkled face,
And, trailing dim her draperies
    Of mist from place to place,
    The Twilight leads the breeze.
And now, far-off, beside a pool,
    Dusk blows a reed, a guttural note;
Then sows the air around her full
    Of twinkling disc and mote,
    And moth-shapes soft as wool.

And from a glen, where lights glow by,
    Through hollowed hands she sends a call,
And Solitude, with owlet cry,
    Answers: and Evenfall
    Steps swiftly from the sky.

And Mystery, in hodden gray,
    Steals forth to meet her: and the Dark
Before him slowly makes to sway
    A jack-o'-lantern spark
    To light him on his way.

The grasshopper its violin
    Tunes up, the katydid its fife;
                 22

 



The beetle drums; the grig makes din,
    Informing Elfin life
    Night's revels now begin.
And from each side along the way
    Old Witchcraft waves a batlike hand,
And summons forth the toadstool gray
    To point the path to Faeryland,
    Where all man's longings stray.

                  II
The snail puts forth two staring horns
    And down the toadstool slides;
The wind sits whispering in the thorns
    Of one unseen who hides:
        Of him, the Sprite,
        With glowworm light,
Who watchmans secrets of the Night.
The bee sleeps in the berry-bloom;
    The bird dreams on its nest;
The moon-moth swoons through drowsed per-
        fume
    Upon a fragrant quest:
      It seeks for him,
      The Pixy slim,
Who tags with wet each wildflower's rim.
The milkwort leans an ear of pink
    And listens for the dew;
The fireflies in the wildrose wink
    That seems to listen too:
                 23

 



      For her, the Fay,
      With sword-like ray,
Who opens buds at close of day.

The moon, that dares not come too near,
    Keeps to the highest hill;
The little brook it seems, for fear
    Of something strange, is still:
      The Mystery,
      It well may be,
That talks to it of Faerie.



24


 





THE MOON IN THE WOOD



                   I
FROM hill and hollow, side by side,
    The shadows came, like dreams, to sit
And watch, mysterious, sunset-eyed,
  The wool-winged moths and bats aflit,
And the lone owl that cried and cried.

And'then the forest rang a gong,
  Hoarse, toadlike; and from out the gate
Of darkness came a sound of song,
  As of a gnome that called his mate,
Who answered in his own strange tongue.

And all the forest leaned to hear,
  And saw, from forth the entangling trees,
A naked spirit drawing near,
  A glimmering presence, whom the breeze
Kept whispering,-"Forward! Have no fear."

                   II
The woodland, seeming at a loss,
  Afraid to breathe, or make a sound,
Poured, where her silvery feet should cross,
  A dripping pathway on the ground,
And hedged it in with ferns and moss.
                  25

 



And then the silence sharply shook
  A cricket tambourine; and Night
From out her musky bosom took
  A whippoorwill flute, and, lost to sight
Sat piping to a wildwood brook.

Until from out the shadows came
  A furtive foot, a gleam, a glow;
And with a lamp of crystal flame
  The spirit stole, as white as snow,
And put the firmament to shame.

                  III
Then up and down vague movements went,
  As if the faeries sought an herb;
And here and there a bush was bent,
  A wildflower raised: the wood-pool's curb
Was circled with a scarf of scent.

And deep within her house of weeds
  Old Mystery hung a glowworm lamp,
And decked her hair with firefly beads,
  And sate herself 'mid dew and damp,
And crooned a love-song to the reeds.

Then through the gates of solitude,
  Where Witchery her shuttle plied,
The Spirit entered, white and nude-
  And where she went, on every side,
Dreams followed through the solitude.
                  26


 




THE MOON SPIRIT



ONE night I lingered in the wood
    And saw a spirit-form that stood
  Among the wildflowers. Like the dew
It twinkled; partly wind and scent;
  Then down a moonbeam there it blew,
And like a gleam of water went.
  Or was it but a dream that grew
Out of the wind and dew and scent.

Could I have seized it, made it mine,
As poets have the thought divine
  Of Nature, then I too might know,--
(Like them who once wild magic bound
  Into their rhymes of long-ago),-
Such ecstasy of earth around
  As never yet held heart before
Or language for its beauty found.



27


 




LOVELINESS



HOW good it is, when overwrought,
    To seek the woods and find a thought,
  That to the soul's attentive sense
  Delivers much in evidence
Of truths for which man long has sought-
  Truths, which no vulture years contrive
To rob the heart of, holding it
To all the glory infinite
  Of beauty that shall aye survive.
Still shall it lure us. Year by year
Addressing now the spirit ear
  With thoughts, and now the spirit eye
  With visions that like gods go by,
Filling the mind with bliss and fear-
  In spite of modern man who mocks
The Loveliness of old, nor minds
The ancient myths, gone with the winds,
  And dreams that people woods and rocks.



28


 





THE NIGHT-RAIN



TATTERED, in ragged raiment of the rain,
    The Night arrives.-Outside the window there
He stands and, streaming, taps upon the pane;
  Or, crouching down beside the cellar-stair,
          Letting his hat-brim drain,
  Mutters, black-gazing through his trickling hair.
Then on. the roof with cautious feet he treads,
  Whispering a word into the windy flues;
And all the house, huddling its flowerbeds,
  Looks, dark of face, as if it heard strange news,
          Hugging the musky heads
  Of all its roses to its sides of ooze.
Now in the garden, with a glowworm lamp,
  Night searches, letting his black mantle pour;
Treading the poppies down with heavy tramp,
  Thudding the apple, sodden to its core,
          Into the dripping damp,
  From boughs the wet loads, dragging more and
    more.
Then at the barn he fumbles, gropes his way,
  Through splashing pools; and, seeping, enters in
The stalls and creeps among the bedding hay,
  Burying him moistly to his clammy chin,
          While near him, brown and gray,
  The dozing cattle make a drowsy din.
                      29

 



The martin-box, poled high above the gate,
  He pushes till the fluttering fledglings wake,
Wondering what bird it is that comes so late:
  Then to the henhouse door he gives a shake;
           Or, like a thief await,
  Leans listening softly with black heart aquake.
Then with his ragged cloak flung back he goes,
  With flickering lantern, where the stream o'er-
    flowed,
Breathing wet scents of wayside weed and rose,
  And guttural music of the frog and toad;
          A firefly-light, that glows,
  Green in his hand to guide him on his road.
And doffing then, upon the wooded hill,
  His hat of cloud, a little while he stands,
Hearkening in silence to the leaping rill;
  Then, stooping low, he lifts in azure hands
          A great gold daffodil-
  The moon-and pins it in his cloak's blown bands.



30


 





THE DREAM CHILD



THERE is a place (I know it well)
     Where beech trees crowd into a gloom,
And where a twinkling woodland well
  Flings from a rock a rippling plume,
And, like a Faun beneath a spell,
  The silence breathes of beam and bloom.

And here it was I met with her,
  The child I never hoped to see,
Who long had been heart's-comforter,
  And soul's-companion unto me,
Telling me oft of myths that were,
  And of far faerylands to-be.

She stood there smiling by the pool,
  The cascade made below the rocks;
Innocent, naked, beautiful,
  The frail gerardia in her locks,
A flower, elfin-sweet and cool,
  Freckled as faery four-o'-clocks.

Her eyes were rain-bright; and her hair
  An amber gleam like that which tips
The golden leaves when Fall comes fair;
  And twin red berries were her lips;
Her beauty, pure and young and bare,
  Shone like a star from breasts to hips.
                 31

 



Oft had I seen her thus, of old,
  In dreams, where she played many parts:
A form, possessing in its mold
  The high perfection of all Arts,
With all the hopes to which men hold,
  And loves for which they break their hearts.

And she was mine. Within her face
  I read her soul. . . . Then, while she smiled,
A sudden wind swept through the place
  And-she was gone. My heart beat wild;
The leaves shook and, behold, no trace
  Was there of her, the faery child.

Only a ray of gold that hung
  Above the water; and a bough,
Rain-bright and berried, low that swung:
  Yet, in my heart of hearts, somehow,
I felt (I need not search among
  The trees) that she was hiding now.



32


 





ROMANCE



OH, go not to the lonely hill,
      That from its heart pours one clear well!
There is a witch who haunts it still,
  Who would undo you with her spell.-
Oh, go not to the lonely hill.
There was a youth who, with his book,
  Wopld dream for hours and hours alone
Beneath the boughs, beside the brook,
  Seated upon a mossy stone,
His gaze upon his wonder-book.
The scent of lilies there is cool,
  Hanging in many a wild raceme
Around a glimmering woodland pool,
   From whence flows down a shadowy stream.-
The scent of lilies there is cool. .
Between his eyes and unturned page
   He saw her bright face, smiling, nod:
And knew her of another Age,
   A pagan Age that mocked at God.-
She seemed to rise from out the page,
Clothed on with dreams and forest scent,
   And light and wind, that breathed and blew;
 A water-gleam, that came and went,
   She seemed, who round her presence drew
 A portion of the light and scent.
3                  33

 



With eyes of crystal gray she smiled
  Into his eyes and murmured words
Of love that made his pulse beat wild,-
  His heart to flutter like a bird's
The fowler snares while slow she smiled.

And then she kissed him; smoothed his hair;
  And bade him come. And he was fain
To follow her, yea, anywhere,
  And as her slave for aye remain,
When she had kissed his mouth and hair.

And he arose and took her hand,
  And followed as one does in dreams:
And, lo, they came to Faeryland,
  And danced an hour by its streams,
And sat an hour, hand in hand.

When he returned to Earth, no place
  Remembered him that once had known:
Save for the memory of her face
  Here in the world he walked alone,
His mortal heart held by that place.

And so he sits where all may see,
  And tells his tale, that none believes,
Like you, who now depart from me,
  Who leave me with a soul that grieves
For her my eyes no more shall see.



34

 



Nay; go not to that hill, lest you
  Should fall beneath that Faery's spell,
Like me, and evermore pursue
  A dream of beauty, loved too well,
That holds you and escapes from you.



35


 





THE WOOD GOD



I HEARD his step upon the moss;
   I glimpsed his shadow in the stream;
And thrice I saw the brambles toss
  Wherein he vanished like a dream.
A great beech aimed a giant stroke
  At my bent head, in mad alarm;
And then a chestnut and an oak
  Struck at me with a knotted arm.
The brambles clutched at me; and fear
  For one swift instant held me fast-
Just long enough to let me hear
  His windlike footsteps vanish past.
The brushwood made itself more dense,
  And looped my feet with green delay;
And, threatening every violence,
  The rocks and thorns opposed my way.
But still I followed; strove and strained
  In spite of all the wood devised
To hold me back, and on him gained-
  The deity I had surprised.
The genius of the wood, whose flute
  Had led me far; at first, to see
The imprint of his form and foot
  Upon the moss beneath the tree.
                 36

 



A bird piped warning and he fled:
  I saw a gleam of gold and green:
The woodland held its breath for dread
  That its great godhead would be seen.

Could I but speak him face to face,
  And for a while his joy behold,
What visions there might then take place,
  What myst'ries of the woods be told!-

And well I knew that he was near
  By that soft sound the water made
Upon its rock; and by the fear
  The wind unto the leaves betrayed.

And by the sign bough made to bough,
  The secret signal, brusque and brief,
That said, "On guard! He's looking now!"
  And pointed at me every leaf.

Then suddenly the way lay wide;
  The brambles ceased to clutch and tear;
And even the grim trees shrunk aside,
  And motioned me,-"He's there! he's there!"

A ruse! I knew it for a ruse,
  To thwart my search at last.-But I
Had been a fool to follow clues,
  And let the god himself pass by.



37

 



And then the wood in mighty mirth
  Laughed at me, all its bulk a-swing;
It roared and bent its giant girth
  As if it'd done a clever thing.

But I,-on whom its scorn was spent,
  Said not a word, but turned away:
To me this truth was evident-
  No man may see the gods to-day.



38


 





THE WOODLAND WATERFALL



R OCK and root and fern and flower--
They had led him for an hour
To the inmost forest, where,
In a hollow, green with moss,
That the deep ferns trailed across,
Fell a fall, a presence fair,
Syllabling to the air,
charming with cool sounds the bower.

It was she he used to know
In some land of Long Ago,
Some far land of Yesterday,
Where he listened to her words,
And she lured him, like the birds,
To her lips; and in his way
Danced a bubble or rainbow-ray,
Or a minnow's silvery bow.

Round him now her arms she flung,
And, as dripping there she clung,
In her gaze of green and gold
He beheld a beauty gleam,
And the shadow of a dream,
That to no man hath been told,--
Like a Faery tale of old,
Rise up glimmering, ever young.
              39

 




As his form to hers she drew
In his soul, it seemed, he knew
She was daughter of a king,
Hate-transformed into a fall
By a witch; long-held in thrall,
And condemned to sigh and sing
Till some mortal find the ring,
Charm, that would the spell undo.

In a pool of spray and foam,
With a crystal-bubble dome,
Suddenly he saw the charm:
Newt-like, coiling, there it lay-
Could he seize it he would stay,
Master all! and, white and warm,
Clasp the princess in his arm,
Lead her to her palace home!

He would free her; share her crown.-
So he thought; and, bare and brown,
Clove the water at a blow.
But, behold, a mottled form,
Like a newt's, stretched out an arm,
Crimson-freckled, from below;
And before his heart could know,
With wild laughter drew him down.



40


 





THE DEAD DREAM



BETWEEN the darkness and the day
As, lost in doubt, I went my way,
I met a shape, as faint as fair,
With star-like blossoms in its hair:
Its body, which the moon shone through,
Was partly cloud and partly dew:
I ts eyes were bright as if with tears,
Anti held the look of long-gone years;
Its mouth was piteous, sweet yet dread,
As if with kisses of the dead:
And in its hand it bore a flower,
In memory of some haunted hour.
I knew it for the Dream I'd had
In days when life was young and glad.
Why had it come with love and woe
Out of the happy Long-Ago
Upon my brow I felt its breath,
Heard ancient words of faith and death,
Sweet with the immortality
Of many a fragrant memory:
And to my heart again I took
Its joy and sorrow in a look,
And kissed its eyes and held it fast,
And bore it home from out the past-
My Dream of Beauty and of Truth,
1 dreamed had perished with my Youth.



41


 





THE SEA FAERY



SHE was strange as the orchids that blossom
kJ And glimmer and shower their balm
And bloom on the tropical ocean,
  That crystals round islands of palm:
And she sang to and beckoned and bound me
  With beauty immortal and calm.

She was wild as the spirits that banner,
  Auroral, the ends of the Earth,
With polar processions, that battle
  With Darkness; or, breathing, give birth
To Silence; and herd from the mountains
  The icebergs, gigantic of girth.

She was silver as sylphids who blend with
  The morning the pearl of their cheeks:
And rosy as spirits whose tresses
  Trail golden the sunset with streaks:
An opaline presence that beckoned
  And spake as the sea-rapture speaks:-

"Come with me! come down in the ocean!-
  Yea, leave this dark region with me!-
Come! leave it! forget it in thunder
  And roll of the infinite sea!
Come with me!- No mortal bliss equals
  The bliss I shall give unto thee." . .
                 42

 



And so it was then that she bound me
  With witchcraft no mortal divines,
While softly with kisses she drew me,
  As the moon draws a dream from the pines,
Down, down to her cavern of coral,
  Where ever the sea-serpent twines.

And ever the creatures, whose shadows
  Bulk huge as an isle on the sight,
Swim cloud-like and vast, without number,
  Around her who leans, like a light,
Arid smiles at me sleeping, pale-sleeping,
  Wrapped deep in her mermaiden might.



43


 




MY LADY OF THE BEECHES



H ERE among the beeches
     Winds and wild perfume,
That the twilight pleaches
  Into gleam and gloom,
  Build for her a room.
Her whose Beauty cometh,
  Misty as the morn,
When the wild-bee hummeth,
  At its honey-horn,
  In the wayside thorn.
As the wood grows dimmer,
  With the drowsy night,
Like a moonbeam glimmer
  Here she walks in white,
  With a firefly light.
Moths around her flitting,
  Like a moth she goes,
Here a moment sitting
  By this wilding rose,
  With my heart's repose.
Every bud and flower
  From her look has caught
Something of that hour
  While she stood in thought
  Gazing into naught.
            44

 



Every bough that dances
  Has assumed the grace
Of her form; and fancies,
  Flashed from eye and face,
  Brood about the place.
Every wind that flutters,
  Says what is expressed
Of her heart and utters
  Sounds of peace and rest
  Pulsing in her breast.
And the water, shaken
  In its plunge and poise,
To itself has taken
  Quiet of her voice,
  And restrains its joys.
Would that these could tell me
  What and whence she is,-
She, who doth enspell me,
  Fill my soul with bliss
  Of her spirit-kiss.
Though the heart beseech her,
  And the soul implore,
Who is it may reach her,
  Safe behind the door
  Of all woodland lore



45


 





THE WOOD ANEMONE



rHE thorn-tree waved a bough of May
       And all its branches bent
To indicate the wildwood way
    The Wind and Sunbeam went.
A wildrose here, a wildrose there
    Lifted appealing eyes,
And looked the path they did not dare
    Reveal in other wise.
Wild parsley tossed a plume of gold
    And breathed so sweet a sigh,
I guessed the way, it never told,
    Which they had hastened by.
I traced the Beam, so swift and white,
    In many a woodland place
By wildflower footprints of its flight
    And gleamings of its grace.
I knew its joy had filled with song
    The high heart of the bird,
That rippled, rippled all day long
    In dells that hushed and heard.
I knew the Wind with flashing feet
    Had charmed the brook withal,
Who in its cascades did repeat
    The music of that call.
               46

 



All were in league to help me find,
    Or tell to me the way,
Which now before me, now behind,
    These two had gone in play.
I could not understand how these
    Could hide so near to me,
When by the whispering of the trees
    I knew the wood could see.

Until, all breathless with its joy,
    The Wind, that could not rest,
Ran past me, like a romping boy,
    And bade me look my best.

And there I saw them clasped in bliss
    Beneath an old beech tree:
And here's the flower born of their kiss-
    This wild anemone.



47


 




"Revels
the Moon
did light"



J


 





PIXY WOOD



THE vat-like cups of the fungus, filled
With the rain that fell last night,
Are casks of wine that the elves distilled
  For revels the moon did light.
The owlet there with her "Who-oh-who,"
  And the frog with his "All is right,"
Could tell a tale if they wanted to
  Of what took place last night.



In that hollow beech, where the wood
  Their toadstool houses stand;
A little village of drabs and grays,
  Cone-roofed, of Faeryland.
That moth, which gleams like a lichez
  Is one of an elfin band,
That whisks away if you merely dare
  To try to understand.



decays,



i there,



The snail, that slides on that mushroom's top,
  And the slug on its sleepy trail,
Wax fat on the things the elves let drop
  At feast in the moonlight pale.
The whippoorwill, that grieves and grieves,
  If it would, could tell a tale
Of what took place here under the leaves
  Last night on the Dreamland Trail.



49

 




The trillium there and the Mayapple,
  With their white eyes opened wide,
Of many a secret sight could tell
  If speech were not denied:
Of many a pixy revelry
  And rout on which they've spied,
With the hollow tree, which there you see
  Opens its eye-knots wide.



50


 





THE GRAY SISTERS



W     HAT is that which walks by night
     In flying tatters of leaves and weeds,
When the clouds rush by like daemon steeds,
And the moon is a jack-o'-lantern light
Low in the pool's dark reeds-
What is that, like a soul who sinned-
Is it a witch or the Autumn wind

What is that which sits and glowers
Under the trees by the forest pool
With a cloak of moss whence the raindrops drule,
Chilling the air with a sense of showers
And touch of the cold toadstool:
What is that, with its breath of gloom-
Is it a witch or the Fall perfume

What is that in a mantle of gray,
With rags, like water, that wreathe and wind
That gropes the forest, as if to find
A path, long-lost, on its midnight way,
Shadowy, old and blind:
What is that, so white and whist-
Is it a witch or the Autumn mist

You may have met them; you may have heard;
As I have heard them; as I have met:
                 51

 



The three gray sisters of wind and wet
Each with a spell or a cryptic word
Working her magic yet:
The three gray sisters, the witches old,
Daughters of Autumn, who haunt the wold.



52


 




THE FAERY PIPE



WOODS of wonder, wonder ways,
)OV Where the Faery Pi