If I could find a little muddy boot, Or cap, or jacket, on my chamber-floor,If I could kiss a rosy, restless foot, And hear its patter in my house once more,— If I could mend a broken cart to-day, To-morrow make a kite to reach the sky, There is no woman in God's world could say She was more blissfully content than I. But ah! the dainty pillow next my own Is never rumpled by a shining head; My singing birdling from its nest has flown, MY DAUGHTER LOUISE IN the light of the moon, by the side of the water, My seat on the sand and her seat on my knees, ; We watch the bright billows, do I and my daughter, My sweet little daughter Louise. We wonder what city the pathway of glory, That broadens away to the limitless west, Leads up to she minds her of some pretty story And says: "To the city that mortals love best." Then I say: "It must lead to the far The beautiful City of Rest." away city, In the light of the moon, by the side of the water, She steps to the boat with a touch of his fingers, It waits, but I know that its coming will prove That it went to the walls of the wonderful city, The magical City of Love. Sonnets In the light of the moon, by the side of the water, 323 The path, as of old, reaching out in its splendor, Gleams bright, like a way that an angel has trod; I kiss the cold burden its billows surrender, Sweet clay to lie under the pitiful sod: But she rests, at the end of the path, in the city Homer Greene [1853 "I AM LONELY" From "The Spanish Gypsy" THE world is great: the birds all fly from me, The world is great: I tried to mount the hill And I am lonely. The world is great: the wind comes rushing by. The world is great: the people laugh and talk, And I am lonely. SONNETS George Eliot [1819-1880] From "Mimma Bella" I HAVE dark Egyptians stolen Thee away, And wilt thou come, on some far distant day, II Two springs she saw-two radiant Tuscan springs, In the new wheat, and wreaths of young vine frame Make purple pools, as if Adonis came Just there to die; and Florence scrolls her name Now, when the scented iris, straight and tall, IV Oh, rosy as the lining of a shell Were the wee hands that, now are white as snows; And like pink coral, with their elfin tocs, The feet that on life's brambles never fell. And with its tiny smile, adorable The mouth that never knew life's bitter sloes; And like the incurved petal of a rose The little ear, now deaf in Death's strong spell. Now, while the seasons in their order roll, And sun and rain pour down from God's great dome, And deathless stars shine nightly overhead, Near other children, with her little doll, Sonnets She waits the wizard that will never come To wake the sleep-struck playground of the dead. VI Oh, bless the law that veils the Future's face; Or bear the beauty of the evening skies, VIII One day, I mind me, now that she is dead, I crooned it, and-God help me!-felt no dread. The frailest of the unsubstantial forms That leave the shores that are for those that seem! 325 XX What essences from Idumean palm, What ambergris, what sacerdotal wine, What Arab myrrh, what spikenard, would be thine, Oh, for wrecked gold, from depths for ever calm, Oh, for strange gems, still locked in virgin mine, To stud the pyx, where thought would bring sweet psalm! I have but this small rosary of rhyme, No rubies but heart's drops, no pearls but tears, To lay upon the altar of thy name, O Mimma Bella; on the shrine that Time Obliterate the rolls of human fame. Eugene Lee-Hamilton [1845-1907] ROSE-MARIE OF THE ANGELS LITTLE Sister Rose-Marie, Run through Paradise, I wonder, As they run the blue skies under, Little Sister Rose-Marie, Will thy voice as bird-note clear Lift and ripple over Heaven As its mortal sound is given, Swift bird-voice, so young and clear? How God will be glad of thee, Little Sister Rose-Marie! Adelaide Crapsey (1878-1914) |