No More Learning

THE HOUSE OF THE TREES
O"
PE your doors and take me in,
Spirit of the wood;
Wash me clean of dust and din,
Clothe me in your mood.
Take me from the noisy light
To the sunless peace,
Where at midday standeth Night,
Signing Toil's release.
All your dusky twilight stores
To my senses give;
Take me in and lock the doors,
Show me how to live.
Lift your leafy roof for me,
Part your yielding walls;
Let me wander lingeringly
Through your scented halls.
Ope your doors and take me in,
Spirit of the wood;
Take me- make me next of kin
To your leafy brood.
ETHELWYN WETHERALD.


## p. 16528 (#228) ##########################################

16528
SONGS HYMNS AND LYRICS
IN GREEN OLD GARDENS
IN
N GREEN old gardens hidden away
From sight of revel and sound of strife,
Where the bird may sing out his soul ere he dies,
Nor fears for the night, so he lives his day;
Where the high red walls, which are growing gray
With their lichen and moss embroideries,
Seem sadly and sternl to shut out Life,
Because it is often as sad as they;
Where even the bee has time to glide
(Gathering gayly his honeyed store)
Right to the heart of the old-world flowers,
China-asters and purple stocks,
Dahlias and tall red hollyhocks,
Laburnums raining their golden showers,
Columbines prim of the folded core,
And lupins, and larkspurs, and "London pride”;
Where the heron is waiting amongst the reeds,
Grown tame in the silence that reigns around,
Broken only, now and then,
By shy woodpecker or noisy jay,
By the far-off watch-dog's muffled bay;
But where never the purposeless laughter of men,
Or the seething city's murmurous sound,
Will float up under the river-weeds;
Here may I live what life I please,
Married and buried out of sight,-
Married to pleasure, and buried to pain,-
Hidden away amongst scenes like these,
Under the fans of the chestnut-trees;
Living my child-life over again,
With the further hope of a fuller delight,
Blithe as the birds and wise as the bees.
In green old gardens hidden away
From sight of revel and sound of strife, -
Here have I leisure to breathe and move,
And to do my work in a nobler way;
To sing my songs, and to say my say;


## p. 16529 (#229) ##########################################

SONGS HYMNS AND LYRICS
16529
To dream my dreams, and to love my love;
To hold my faith, and to live my life,
Making the most of its shadowy day.
« VIOLET FANE” (Lady Currie).
A BENEDICTINE GARDEN
Thr
HROUGH all the wind-blown aisles of May
Faint bells of perfume swing and fall.
Within this apple-petaled wall
(A gray east flecked with rosy day)
The pink Laburnum lays her cheek
In married, matchless, lovely bliss,
Against her golden mate, to seek
His airy kiss.
Tulips, in faded splendor drest,
Brood o'er their beds, a slumbrous gloom;
Dame Peony, red and ripe with bloom,
Swells the silk housing of her breast;
The Lilac, drunk to ecstasy,
Breaks her full flagons on the air,
And drenches home the reeling bee
Who found her fair.
O cowlèd legion of the Cross,
What solemn pleasantry is thine,
Vowing to seek the life divine
Through abnegation and through loss!
Men but make monuments of sin
Who walk the earth's ambitious round;
Thou hast the richer realm within
This garden ground.
No woman's voice hath sweeter note
Than chanting of this plumèd choir;
No jewel ever wore the fire
Hung on the dewdrop's quivering throat.
A ruddier pomp and pageantry
Than world's delight o'erfleets thy sod;
And choosing this, thou hast in fee
The peace of God.
ALICE BROWN.
XXVIII-1034


## p. 16530 (#230) ##########################################

16530
SONGS HYMNS AND LYRICS
THE BLACKBERRY FARM
NT
ATURE gives with freèst hands
Richest gifts to poorest lands.
When the lord has sown his last,
And his field's to desert passed,
She begins to claim her own,
And instead of harvest flown-
Sunburnt sheaves and golden ears —
Sends her hardier pioneers:
Barbarous brambles, outlawed seeds;
The first families of weeds
Fearing neither sun nor wind,
With the flowers of their kind
(Outcasts of the garden-bound),
Colonize the expended ground,
Using (none her right gainsay)
Confiscations of decay:
Thus she clothes the barren place,
Old disgrace, with newer grace.
)
Title-deeds, which cover lands
Ruled and reaped by buried hands,
She — disowning owners old,
Scorning their “to have and hold”.
Takes herself: the moldering fence
Hides with her munificence;
O'er the crumbled gate-post twines
Her proprietary vines;
On the doorstep of the house
Writes in moss Anonymous,”
And, that beast and bird may see,
« This is Public Property;"
To the bramble makes the sun
Bearer of profusion;
Blossom-odors breathe in June
Promise of her later boon,
And in August's brazen heat
Grows the prophecy complete ;-
Lo, her largess glistens bright,
Blackness diamonded with light!
C
Then, behold, she welcomes all
To her annual festival:


## p. 16531 (#231) ##########################################

SONGS HYMNS AND LYRICS
16531
Mine the fruit, but yours as well,”
Speaks the Mother Miracle;
«Rich and poor are welcome; come,
Make to-day millennium
In my garden of the sun:
Black and white to me are one.
This my freehold use content,-
Here no landlord rides for rent;
I proclaim my jubilee,
In my Black Republic, free.
Come,” she beckons; “enter, through
Gates of gossamer, doors of dew
(Lit with summer's tropic fire),
My Liberia of the brier. »
JOHN JAMES PIATT.
FROM A POEM ON THOREAU
I
F I could find that little poem,
With the daintiest sort of proem,
Which the poet squirrel made
On a leaf that would not fade,
And slyly hid, one darksome night,
By the wicked glow-worm's light!
It was all about Thoreau-
How the squirrels loved him so;
Since, whenever he went walking,
He would stop to hear them talking,-
Often smiling when they chattered,
Or their brown nuts downward pattered:
Nay, could I but find that bird
Who told me once that she had heard
Robins, wrens, and others tell
How he knew their language well,
And how he turned, a thousand times,
Birdic into English rhymes!
H. A. BLOOD.


## p. 16532 (#232) ##########################################

16532
SONGS HYMNS AND LYRICS
THE SOUTH
N
IGHT; and beneath star-blazoned summer skies
Behold the spirit of the musky South,-
A creole, with still-burning, languid eyes,
Voluptuous limbs and incense-breathing mouth:
Swathed in spun gauze is she,
From fibres of her own anana tree.
Within these sumptuous woods she lies at ease,
By rich night-breezes, dewy cool, caressed:
'Twixt cypresses and slim palmetto-trees,
Like to the golden oriole's hanging nest,
Her airy hammock swings,
And through the dark her mocking-bird yet sings.
How beautiful she is! A tulip-wreath
Twines round her shadowy, free-floating hair:
Young, weary, passionate, and sad as death,
Dark visions haunt for her the vacant air,
While movelessly she lies
With lithe, lax, folded hands and heavy eyes.
Full well knows she how wide and fair extend
Her groves bright-flowered, her tangled everglades,
Majestic streams that indolently wend
Through lush savanna or dense forest shades,
Where the brown buzzard flies
To broad bayous 'neath hazy-golden skies.
Hers is the savage splendor of the swamp,
With pomp of scarlet and of purple bloom;
Where blow warm, furtive breezes faint and damp,
Strange insects whir, and stalking bitterns boom
Where from stale waters dead
Oft looms the great-jawed alligator's head.
Her wealth, her beauty, and the blight on these,
Of all she is aware: luxuriant woods,
Fresh, living, sunlit, in her dream she sees;
And ever midst those verdant solitudes
The soldier's wooden cross,
O'ergrown by creeping tendrils and rank moss.
Was hers a dream of empire ? was it sin ?
And is it well that all was borne in vain ?


## p. 16533 (#233) ##########################################

SONGS HYMNS AND LYRICS
16533
She knows no more than one who slow doth win,
After fierce fever, conscious life again,
Too tired, too weak, too sad,
By the new light to be or stirred or glad.
From rich sea-islands fringing her green shore,
From broad plantations where swart freemen bend
Bronzed backs in willing labor, from her store
Of golden fruit, from stream, from town, ascend
Life-currents of pure health:
Her aims shall be subserved with boundless wealth.
Yet now how listless and how still she lies,
Like some half-savage, dusky Indian queen,
Rocked in her hammock 'neath her native skies,
With the pathetic, passive, broken mien
Of one who, sorely proved,
Great-souled, hath suffered much and much hath loved!
But look! along the wide-branched dewy glade
Glimmers the dawn: the light palmetto-trees
And cypresses reissue from the shade,
And she hath wakened. Through clear air she sees
The pledge, the brightening ray,
And leaps from dreams to hail the coming day.
EMMA LAZARUS.
RESPITE
ING, lark, far up the sky!
Sing, throstle, for love's sake!
Sing, sing, as if no heart might ever break!
S'S
!
Softly, O summer sigh
Of winds, let patter down
The blossom-rain, as if no storms had blown!
Smile, flowers, along the way, —
Your dainty presence stirs
Such blessed thoughts, ye little comforters.
O earth, for one kind day
Let me be glad again,-
Forgetting grief that is, and that has been.
INA D. COOLBRITH.


## p. 16534 (#234) ##########################################

16534
SONGS HYMNS AND LYRICS
WHEN THE WORLD IS BURNING
W"
HEN the world is burning,
Fired within, yet turning
Round with face unscathed;
Ere fierce flames, uprushing,
O'er all lands leap, crushing,
Till earth fall, fire-swathed, -
Up amidst the meadows,
Gently through the shadows,
Gentle flames will glide,
Small and blue and golden.
Though by bard beholden
When in calm dreams folden,
Calm his dreams will bide.
Where the dance is sweeping,
Through the greensward peeping,
Shall the soft lights start;
Laughing maids, unstaying,
Deeming it trick-playing,
High their robes upswaying,
O'er the lights shall dart;
And the woodland haunter
Shall not cease to saunter,
When far down some glade
Of the great world's burning,
One soft flame upturning
Seems, to his discerning,
Crocus in the shade.
EBENEZER JONES.
THE TRYST OF THE NIGHT
O'
UT of the uttermost ridge of dusk, where the dark and the day
are mingled,
The voice of the Night rose cold and calm — it called through
the shadow-swept air;
Through all the valleys and lone hillsides it pierced, it thrilled, it
tingled
It summoned me forth to the wild sea-shore, to meet with its
mystery there.


## p. 16535 (#235) ##########################################

SONGS HYMNS AND LYRICS
16535
Out of the deep ineffable blue, with palpitant swift repeating
Of gleam and glitter and opaline glow, that broke in ripples of
light-
In burning glory it came and went, - I heard, I saw it beating,
Pulse by pulse, from star to star,— the passionate heart of Night!
Out of the thud of the rustling sea - the panting, yearning, throbbing
Waves that stole on the startled shore, with coo and mutter of
spray -
The wail of the Night came fitful-faint, — I heard her stified sobbing;
The cold salt drops fell slowly, slowly, gray into gulfs of gray.
There through the darkness the great world reeled, and the great
tides roared, assembling –
Murmuring hidden things that are past, and secret things that
shall be;
There at the limits of life we met, and touched with a rapturous
trembling -
One with each other, I and the Night, and the skies, and the stars,
and sea.
MARY C. GIllINGTON BYRON.
2
THE GOLDEN SUNSET
THE
He golden sea its mirror spreads
Beneath the golden skies,
And but a narrow strip between
Our earth and shadow lies.
The cloud-like cliffs, the cliff-like clouds,
Dissolved in glory float,
And midway of the radiant floods
Hangs silently the boat.
The sea is but another sky,
The sky a sea as well;
And which is earth, and which the heavens,
The eye can scarcely tell.
So when for me life's latest hour
Soft passes to its end,
May glory born of earth and heaven
The earth and heaven blend;


## p. 16536 (#236) ##########################################

16536
SONGS HYMNS AND LYRICS
Flooded with light the spirit float,
With silent rapture glow,
Till where earth ends and heaven begins,
The soul can scarcely know.
SAMUEL LONGFELLOW.
1
THE FLIGHT OF THE CROWS
THE
The autumn afternoon is dying o'er
The quiet western valley where I lie
Beneath the maples on the river shore,
Where tinted leaves, blue waters, and fair sky
Environ all; and far above some birds are flying by
To seek their evening haven in the breast
And calm embrace of silence, while they sing
Te Deums to the night, invoking rest
For busy chirping voice and tired wing -
And in the hush of sleeping trees their sleeping-cradles swing.
In forest arms the night will soonest creep,
Where sombre pines a lullaby intone,
Where Nature's children curl themselves to sleep,
And all is still at last, save where alone
A band of black, belated crows arrive from lands unknown.
Strange sojourn has been theirs since waking day;
Strange sights and cities in their wanderings blend
With fields of yellow maize, and leagues away
With rivers where their sweeping waters wend
Past velvet banks to rocky shores, in cañons bold to end.
O'er what vast lakes that stretch superbly dead,
Till lashed to life by storm-clouds, have they flown?
In what wild lands, in laggard flight have led
Their aerial career unseen, unknown,
Till now with twilight come their cries in lonely monotone ?
The flapping of their pinions in the air
Dies in the hush of distance, while they light
Within the fir tops, weirdly black and bare,
That stand with giant strength and peerless height,
To shelter fairy, bird, and beast throughout the closing night.


## p. 16537 (#237) ##########################################

SONGS HYMNS AND LYRICS
16537
Strange black and princely pirates of the skies,
Would that your wind-tossed travels I could know!
Would that my soul could see, and seeing, rise
To unrestricted life where ebb and flow
Of Nature's pulse would constitute a wider life below!
Could I but live just here in Freedom's arms,
A kingly life without a sovereign's care!
Vain dreams! Day hides with closing wings her charms,
And all is cradled in repose, save where
Yon band of black, belated crows still frets the evening air.
E. PAULINE JOHNSON (“Tekahionwake”).
THE NORTHERN LIGHTS
HE
ELL's gates swing open wide!
Hell's furious chiefs forth ride!
The deep doth redden
With flags of armies marching through the night,
As kings shall lead their legions to the fight
At Armageddon.
1
1
2
Peers and princes mark I,
Captains and chiliarchi;
Thou burning angel of the Pit, Abaddon!
Charioteers from Hades, land of gloom,
Gigantic thrones, and heathen troopers, whom
The thunder of the far-off fight doth madden.
Lo! Night's barbaric khans,
Lo! the waste Gulf's wild clans,
Gallop across the skies with fiery bridles!
Lo! flaming sultanas, infernal czars,
In deep-ranked squadrons gird the glowing cars
Of Lucifer and Ammon, towering idols.
See yonder red platoons!
See! see the swift dragoons,
Whirling aloft their sabres to the zenith!
See the tall regiments whose spears incline,
Beyond the circle of that steadfast sign
Which to the streams of ocean never leaneth. *
1
Whose yonder dragon-crest?
Whose that red-shielded breast ?
* Iliad, sviii. 489.


## p. 16538 (#238) ##########################################

16538
SONGS HYMNS AND LYRICS
Chieftain Satanas! Emperor of the Furnace!
What bright centurions, what blazing earls,
In mail of hell's hot ores and burnished pearls,
Alarm the kingdoms with their gleaming harness?
All shades and spectral hosts,
All forms and gloomy ghosts,
All frowning phantoms from the Gulf's dim gorges,
Follow the kings in wavering multitude;
While savage giants of the night's old brood
In pagan mirth toss high their crackling torches.
Monarchs, on guarded thrones,
Ruling earth's southern zones,
Mark ye the wrathful archers of Gehenna;
How gleam, affrighted lords of Europe's crowns,
Their blood-red arrows o'er your bastioned towns,
Moscow, and purple Rome, and cannon-girt Vienna?
Go bid your prophets watch the troubled skies!
«Why through the vault cleave those infernal glances ?
Why, ye pale wizards, do those portents rise,
Rockets and fiery shafts and lurid lances ? »
Still o'er the silent Pole
Numberless armies roll,
Columns all plumed and cohorts of artillery;
Still girdled nobles cross the snowy fields
In flashing chariots, and their crimson shields
Kindle afar thy icy peaks, Cordillera!
On, lords of dark despair !
Prince of the powers of air,
Bear your broad banners through the constellations!
Wave, all ye Stygian hordes,
Through the black sky your swords;
Startle with warlike signs the watching nations.
March, ye mailed multitudes, across the deep;
Far shine the battlements on Heaven's steep.
Dare ye again, fierce thrones and scarlet powers,
Assail with hell's wild host those crystal towers ?
Tempt ye again the angels' shining blades,
Ithuriel's spear, and Michael's circling truncheon,-
The seraph-cavalier, whose winged brigades
Drove you in dreadful rout down to the night's vast dungeon ?
GUY HUMPHREY MCMASTER.


## p. 16539 (#239) ##########################################

SONGS HYMNS AND LYRICS
16539
THE TORNADO
WHOSE
HOSE eye has marked his gendering ? On his
throne
He dwells apart in roofless caves of air,
Born of the stagnant, blown of the glassy heat
O'er the still mere Sargasso. When the world
Has fallen voluptuous, and the isles are grown
So bold they cry, God sees not! - as a rare
Sun-flashing iceberg towers on high, and fleet
As air-ships rise, by upward currents whirled,
Even so the bane of lustful islanders
Wings him aloft. And scarce a pinion stirs.
There gathering hues, he stoopeth down again -
Down from the vault. Locks of the gold-tipped cloud
Fly o'er his head; his eyes, St. Elmo flames;
His mouth, a surf on a red coral reef.
Embroidered is his cloak of dark-blue stain
With lightning jags. Upon his pathway crowd
Dull Shudder, wan-faced Quaking, Ghastly-Dreams.
And after these, in order near their chief,
Start, Tremor, Faint-Heart, Panic, and Affray,
Horror with blanching eyes, and limp Dismay,
1
Unroll a gray-green carpet him before
Swathed in thick foam: thereon adventuring, bark
Need never hope to live; that yeasty pile
Bears her no longer; to the mast-head plunged
She writhes and groans, careens, and is no more.
Now, prickt by fear, the man-devourer shark,
Gale-breasting gull, and whale that dreams no guile
Till the sharp steel quite to the life has lunged,
Before his pitiless, onward-hurling form
Hurry toward land for shelter from the storm.
In vain. Tornado and his pursuivants,
Whirlwind of giant bulk, and Water-Spout, -
The grewsome, tortuous devil-fish of rain,
O'ertake them on the shoals and leave them dead.
Doomsday has come. Now men in speechless trance
Glower unmoved upon the hideous rout,
Or shrieking, fly to holes, or yet complain
One moment to that lordly face of dread


## p. 16540 (#240) ##########################################

16540
SONGS HYMNS AND LYRICS
Before he quits the mountain of his wave,
And strews for all impartially their grave.
And as in court-yard corners on the wind
Sweep the loose straws, houses and stately trees
Whirl in a vortex. His unswerving tread
Winnows the island as a thresher's floor.
His eyes are fixed; he looks not once behind,
But at his back fall silence and the breeze.
Scarce is he come, the lovely wraith is sped.
Ashamed, the lightning shuts its purple door,
And heaven still knows the robes of gold and dun,
While placid Ruin gently greets the sun.
CHARLES DE KAY.
1
THE RIVER CHARLES
ESIDE thee, river, I
B Through vista Long of years, and drink my fill
Of beauty and of light, a steady rill
Of never-failing good, whate'er my state, -
How speechless seem these lips, my soul how dull,
Never to say, nor half to say, how dear
The washing of thy ripples, nor the full
And silent flow which speaks not to the ear!
Thou hast been unto me a gracious nurse,
Telling me many a tale in listening hours
Of those who praised thee with their ripening powers,—
Our elder poets, nourished at thy source.
O happy Cambridge meadows! where now rest
Forever the proud memories of their lives;
O happy Cambridge air! forever blest
With deathless song the bee of time still hives; -
And farther on, where many a wild flower blooms
Through a fair Sunday up and down thy banks,
Beautiful with thy blossoms, ranks on ranks,
What vanished eyes have sought thy dewy rooms!
I too have known thee, rushing, bright with foam,
Or sleeping idly, even as
thou dost now,


## p. 16541 (#241) ##########################################

SONGS HYMNS AND LYRICS
16541
Reflecting every wall and tower and dome,
And every vessel, clear from stern to prow,
Or in the moonlight, when the night is pale,
And the great city is still, and only thou
Givest me sign of life, and on thy brow
A beauty evanescent, flitting, frail !
O river! ever drifting toward the sea,
How common is thy fate! thus purposeless
To drift away, nor think what 'tis to be,
And sink in the vast wave of nothingness.
But ever to love's life a second life
Is given, and his narrow river of days
Shall flow through other lives, and sleep in bays
Of quiet thought and calm the heart at strife.
Fortunate river! that through the poet's thought
Hast run and washed life's burden from his sight;
O happy river! thou his song hast brought,
And thou shalt live in poetry and light.
ANNIE FIELDS.
ORARA
A TRIBUTARY OF THE CLARENCE RIVER
TH
VE strong sob of the chafing stream,
That seaward fights its way
Down crags of glitter, dells of gleam,
Is in the hills to-day.
But far and faint a gray-winged form
Hangs where the wild lights wane
The phantoms of a bygone storm,
A ghost of wind and rain.
The soft white feet of afternoon
Are on the shining meads;
The breeze is as a pleasant tune
Amongst the happy reeds.
The fierce, disastrous, flying fire,
That made the great caves ring,
And scarred the slope, and broke the spire,
Is a forgotten thing.


## p. 16542 (#242) ##########################################

16542
SONGS HYMNS AND LYRICS
The air is full of mellow sounds;
The wet hill-heads are bright;
And down the fall of fragrant grounds
The deep ways flame with light.
A rose-red space of stream I see,
Past banks of tender fern;
A radiant brook, unknown to me,
Beyond its upper turn.
The singing silver life I hear,
Whose home is in the green
Far-folded woods of fountains clear,
Where I have never been.
Ah, brook above the upper bend,
I often long to stand
Where you in soft, cool shades descend
From the untrodden land;
But I may linger long, and look,
Till night is over all —
My eyes will never see the brook,
Or strange, sweet waterfall.
The world is round me with its heat,
And toil, and cares that tire:
I cannot with my feeble feet
Climb after my desire.
HENRY CLARENCE KENDALL.
TO SENECA LAKE
O*
N THY fair bosom, silver lake,
The wild swan spreads his snowy sail,
And round his breast the ripples break,
As down he bears before the gale.
On thy fair bosom, waveless stream,
The dipping paddle echoes far,
And flashes in the moonlight gleam,
And bright reflects the polar star.
The waves along thy pebbly shore,
As blows the north-wind, heave their foam,


## p. 16543 (#243) ##########################################

SONGS HYMNS AND LYRICS
16543
-
And curl around the dashing oar,
As late the boatman hies him home.
How sweet, at set of sun, to view
Thy golden mirror spreading wide,
And see the mist of mantling blue
Float round the distant mountain's side.
At midnight hour, as shines the moon,
A sheet of silver spreads below,
And swift she cuts, at highest noon,
Light clouds like wreaths of purest snow.
On thy fair bosom, silver lake,
Oh, I could ever sweep the oar,
When early birds at morning wake,
And evening tells us toil is o'er!
JAMES GATES PERCIVAL,
SEA WITCHERY
Yº
headland, with the twinkling-footed sea
Beyond it, conjures shapes and stories fair
Of young Greek days: the lithe immortal air
Carries the sound of Siren-song to me;
Soon shall I mark Ulysses daringly
Swing round the cape, the sea-wind in his hair;
And look! the Argonauts go sailing there
A golden quest, shouting their godlike glee.
The vision is compact of blue and gold,
Of sky and water, and the drift of foam,
And thrill of brine-washed breezes from the west
Wide space is in it, and the unexpressed
Great heart of Nature, and the magic old
Of legend, and the white ships coming home.
RICHARD BURTON.


## p. 16544 (#244) ##########################################

16544
SONGS HYMNS AND LYRICS
WITH A NANTUCKET SHELL
I
SEND a shell from the ocean beach;
But listen thou well, for my shell hath speech.
Hold to thine ear,
And plain thou'lt hear
Tales of ships
That were lost in the rips,
Or that sunk on the shoals
Where the bell-buoy tolls,
And ever and ever its iron tongue rolls
In a ceaseless lament for the poor lost souls.
And a song of the sea
Has my shell for thee:
The melody in it
Was hummed at Wauwinet,
And caught at Coatue
By the gull that flew
Outside to the ships with its perishing crew.
But the white wings wave
Where none may save,
And there's never a stone to mark a grave.
See, its sad heart bleeds
For the sailor's needs;
But it bleeds again
For more mortal pain,
More sorrow and woe,
Than is theirs who go
With shuddering eyes and whitening lips
Down in the sea in their shattered ships.
Thou fearest the sea ?
And a tyrant is he,-
A tyrant as cruel as tyrant may be;
But though winds fierce blow,
And the rocks lie low,
And the coast be lee,
This I say to thee:
Of Christian souls more have been wrecked on shore
Than ever were lost at sea!
CHARLES HENRY WEBB.


## p.
16545 (#245) ##########################################

SONGS HYMNS AND LYRICS
16545
SONGS OF THE SEA
INTRODUCTORY
- THE OLD TAVERN
N THE North End of Boston, long ago, -
Although 'tis yet within my memory,–
There were of gabled houses many a row,
With overhanging stories two or three,
And many with half-doors over whose end,
Leaning upon her elbows, the good-wife
At eventide conversed with many a friend
Of all the little chances of their life;
Small ripples in the stream which ran full slow
In the North End of Boston, long ago.
And 'mid these houses was a Hostelrie
Frequented by the people of the sea,
Known as the Boy and Barrel, from its sign-
A jolly urchin on a cask of wine,
Bearing the words which puzzled every eye,
Orbus in Tactu Mainet, Heaven knows why.
Even there a bit of Latin made a show,
In the North End of Boston, long ago.
And many a sailor, when his cruise was o'er,
Bore straight for it soon as he touched the shore:
In many a stormy night upon the sea
He'd thought upon the Boy - and of the spree
He'd have when there, and let all trouble go,
In the North End of Boston, long ago.
There, like their vessels in a friendly port,
Met many mariners of every kind,
Spinning strange yarns of many a varied sort,
Well sheltered from the ocean and the wind:
In a long, low, dark room they lounged at ease.
Strange men there were from many a distant land,
And there above the high old chimney-piece
Were curiosities from many a strand,
Which often made strange tales and memories Aow
In the North End of Boston, long ago.
And there I often sat to hear those tales,
From men who'd passed through storm and fight and
fire,
XXVIII-1035


## p. 16546 (#246) ##########################################

16546
SONGS HYMNS AND LYRICS
Of mighty icebergs and stupendous whales,
Of shipwrecked crews and of adventures dire;
Until the thought came to me on a time,
While I was listening to that merry throng,
That I would write their stories out in rhyme,
And weave into it many a sailor's song,
That men might something of the legends know
Of the North End of Boston, long ago.
First it was said that Captain Kidd in truth
Had reveled in that tavern with his crew,
And there it was he lost the Golden Tooth
Which brought him treasure; and the gossips knew
Moll Pitcher dwelt there in the days of yore,
And Peter Rugg had stopped before the door;
Tom Walker there did with the Devil go
In the North End of Boston, long ago.
Nor had I long to wait; for at the word
Some one observed that he had seen in Spain
A captain hung - which Abner Chapin heard,
And said, "I too upon the Spanish Main
Met with a man well known unto us all,
Who nearly hung a captain-general. ”
He told the tale, and I did rhyme it so,
In the North End of Boston, long ago.
EL CAPITAN-GENERAL
HERE was a captain-general who ruled in Vera Cruz,
And what we used to hear of him was always evil news:
He was a pirate on the sea-a robber on the shore,
The Señor Don Alonzo Estabán San Salvador.
T"
There was a Yankee skipper who round about did roam;
His name was Stephen Folger, and Nantucket was his home:
And having gone to Vera Cruz, he had been skinned full sore
By the Señor Don Alonzo Estabán San Salvador.
But having got away alive, though all his cash was gone,
He said, “If there is vengeance, I will surely try it on!
And I do wish I may be damned if I don't clear the score
With Señor Don Alonzo Estabán San Salvador ! »
He shipped a crew of seventy men
well-armed men were they,
And sixty of them in the hold he darkly stowed away;


## p. 16547 (#247) ##########################################

SONGS HYMNS AND LYRICS
16547
And sailing back to Vera Cruz, was sighted from the shore
By the Señor Don Alonzo Estabán San Salvador.
With twenty-five soldados he came on board so pleased,
And said, "Maldito Yankee again your ship is seized.
How many sailors have you got ? " Said Folger, “Ten— no more,
To the Captain Don Alonzo Estabán San Salvador.
»
“But come into my cabin and take a glass of wine.
I do suppose, as usual, I'll have to pay a fine:
I have got some old Madeira, and we'll talk the matter o'er -
My Captain Don Alonzo Estabán San Salvador. ”
And as over that Madeira the captain-general boozed,
It seemed to him as if his head was getting quite confused;
For it happened that some morphine had traveled from «the
store »
To the glass of Don Alonzo Estabán San Salvador.
« What is it makes the vessel roll? What sounds are these I
hear?
It seems as if the rising waves were beating on my ear! ” —
“Oh, it is the breaking of the surf — just that and nothing more,
My Captain Don Alonzo Estabán San Salvador! »
The governor was in a sleep which muddled all his brains;
The seventy men had got his gang and put them all in chains:
And when he woke the following day he could not see the shore,
For he was out on the blue water - the Don San Salvador.
“Now do you see that yard-arm — and understand the thing ? »
Said Captain Folger. «For all from that yard-arm you shall
swing,
Or forty thousand dollars you must pay me from your store,
My Captain Don Alonzo Estabán San Salvador. ”
-
The Capitano took a pen — the order he did sign -
« Señor Yankee! but you charge amazing high for wine! »
But 'twas not till the draft was paid they let him go ashore,
El Señor Don Alonzo Estabán San Salvador.
The greatest sharp some day will find another sharper wit;
It always makes the Devil laugh to see a biter bit;
It takes two Spaniards any day to come a Yankee o'er —
Even two like Don Alonzo Estabán San Salvador.


## p. 16548 (#248) ##########################################

16548
SONGS HYMNS AND LYRICS
Davy JONES
D
own in the sea among sand and stones,
There lives the old fellow called Davy Jones.
When storms come up he sighs and groans,
And that is the singing of Davy Jones.
His chest is full of dead men's bones,
And that is the locker of Davy Jones.
Davy is Welsh you may hear by his tones,
For a regular Welsher is Davy Jones.
Whenever a fish gets drowned, he moans
So tender-hearted is Davy Jones.
Thousands of ships the old man owns,
But none go a-sailing for Davy Jones.
ONE, Two, Three
I
SAW three witches as the wind blew cold
In a red light to the lee;
Bold they were and over-bold
As they sailed over the sea,
Calling for One, Two, Three!
Calling for One, Two, Three!
And I think I can hear
It a-ringing in my ear,
A-howling for their One, Two, Three!
And clouds came over the sky,
And the wind it blew hard and free,
And the waves grew bold and over-bold
As we sailed over the sea -
Howling for One, Two, Three!
Howling for their One, Two, Three!
Oh I think I can hear
It a-ringing in my ear,
A-howling for their One, Two, Three!
And the storm came roaring on,
Such a storm as I never did see,
And the storm it was bold and over-bold,
And as bad as a storm could be -


## p. 16549 (#249) ##########################################

SONGS HYMNS AND LYRICS
16549
A-roaring for its One, Two, Three!
A-howling for its One, Two, Three!
Oh I think I can hear
It a-howling in my ear,
A-growling for its One, Two, Three!
And a wave came over the deck,
As big as a wave could be,
And it took away the captain and the mate and a man:
It had got the One, Two, Three!
And it went with the One, Two, Three!
Oh I think I can hear
It a-rolling in my ear,
As it went with the One, Two, Three.
THE BEAUTIFUL WITCH
A
PRETTY witch was bathing
By the beach one summer day:
There came a boat with pirates
Who carried her away.
The ship had a breeze behind her,
Over the waves went she!
« O signor capitano,
O captain of the sea!
I'll give you a hundred ducats
If you will set me free! »
“I will not take a hundred, -
You're worth much more, you know;
I'll sell you to the Sultan
For a thousand golden sequins:
You put yourself far too low. "
<< You will not take a hundred ?
Very well then, let them be!
But I have a constant lover,
Who, as you may discover,
Will never abandon me. ”
On the deck, before the rover,
The witch began to sing –
“Oh come to me, my lover! ”
And the wind as it stole over
Began to howl and ring.


## p. 16550 (#250) ##########################################

16550
SONGS HYMNS AND LYRICS
Louder and ever louder
Became the tempest's roar.
The captain in a passion
Thus at the lady swore:-
“I believe that your windy lover
Is the Devil and nothing more! ”
Wilder and ever wilder
The tempest raged and rang.
« There are rocks ahead, and the wind dead aft
Thank you, my love! ” the lady laughed
As unto the wind she sang.
“Oh, go with your cursed lover
To inferno to sing for me! ”
So cried the angry captain,
And threw the lady over
To sink in the stormy sea.
But changing into a sea-gull,
Over the waves she fiew.
“O captain, captain bold,” sang she,
« 'Tis true you've missed the gallows-tree,
But now you'll drown in the foaming sea:
O captain, forever adieu! ”
TIME FOR US TO GO
WH
ITH sails let fall and sheeted home, and clear of the ground
were we,
We passed the bank, stood round the light, and sailed away
to sea;
The wind was fair and the coast was clear, and the brig was noways
slow,
For she was built in Baltimore, and 'twas time for us to go.
Time for us to go,
Time for us to go,
For she was built in Baltimore, and 'twas time for us to go.
A quick run to the west we had, and when we made the Bight,
We kept the offing all day long, and crossed the bar at night.
Six hundred niggers in the hold, and seventy we did stow;
And when we'd clapped the hatches on, 'twas time for us to go.
We hadn't been three days at sea before we saw a sail:
So we clapped on every inch she'd stand, although it blew a gale,


## p. 16551 (#251) ##########################################

SONGS HYMNS AND LYRICS
16551
And we walked along full fourteen knots; for the barkie she did
know,
As well as ever a soul on board, 'twas time for us to go.
((
We carried away the royal yards, and the stun’s'l boom was gone.
Says the skipper, “They may go or stand, I'm darned if I don't
crook on.
So the weather braces we'll round in, and the trysil set also,
And we'll keep the brig three p'ints away, for it's time for us to go. ”
Oh, yard-arm under she did plunge in the trough of the deep seas,
And her masts they thrashed about like whips as she bowled before
the breeze,
And every yard did buckle up like to a bending bow;
But her spars were tough as whalebone, and 'twas time for us to go.
We dropped the cruiser in the night, and our cargo landed we,
And ashore we went, with our pockets full of dollars, on the spree.
And when the liquor it is out, and the locker it is low,
Then to sea again, in the ebony trade, 'twill be time for us to go:
Time for us to go,
Time for us to go,
Then to sea again, in the ebony trade, 'twill be time for us to go.
THE LOVER TO THE SAILOR
Nºw
ow tell me this, my sailor boy,
As sure as you love your wine,-
Oh, did you ever see a ship
As trim as that girl of mine ?
And you who've been in many a gale,
And stood on many a deck,
Oh, did you ever see a sail
As white as my true love's neck ?
And you who have been where the red rose blows
In many a Southern place,
Oh, did you ever see a rose
Like those in my sweetheart's face?
Here's a cheer for the women with jet-black curls,
Of Spain or of Portugal!
And seven for the Yankee and English girls,
The prettiest of them all!
CHARLES GODFREY LELAND.
.


## p. 16552 (#252) ##########################################

16552
SONGS HYMNS AND LYRICS
THE ROCK AND THE SEA
The Rock
I
AM the Rock, presumptuous Sea!
I am set to encounter thee.
Angry and loud, or gentle and still,
I am set here to limit thy power, and I will –
I am the Rock!
I am the Rock.
From age to age
I scorn thy fury and dare thy rage.
Scarred by frost and worn by time,
Brown with weed and green with slime,
Thou mayst drench and defile me and spit in my face,
But while I am here thou keep'st thy place!
I am the Rock!
I am the Rock, beguiling Sea!
I know thou art fair as fair can be,
With golden glitter and silver sheen,
And bosom of blue and garments of green.
Thou mayst pat my cheek with baby hands,
And lap my feet in diamond sands,
And play before me as children play;
But plead as thou wilt, I bar the way!
I am the Rock!
I am the Rock. Black midnight falls;
The terrible breakers rise like walls;
With curling lips and gleaming teeth
They plunge and tear at my bones beneath.
Year upon year they grind and beat
In storms of thunder and storms of sleet-
Grind and beat and wrestle and tear,
But the rock they beat on is always there!
I am the Rock!
THE SEA
I am the Sea. I hold the land
As one holds an apple in his hand.
Hold it fast with sleepless eyes,
Watching the continents sink and rise.
Out of my bosom the mountains grow,
Back its depths they crumble slow:


## p. 16553 (#253) ##########################################

1
1
1
SONGS HYMNS AND LYRICS
16553
The earth is a helpless child to me
I am the Sea!
.
I am the Sea. When I draw back
Blossom and verdure follow my track,
And the land I leave grows proud and fair,
For the wonderful race of man is there;
And the winds of heaven wail and cry
While the nations rise and reign and die-
Living and dying in folly and pain,
While the laws of the universe thunder in vain.
What is the folly of man to me?
I am the Sea!
I am the Sea.
The earth I sway;
Granite to me is potter's clay;
Under the touch of my careless waves
It rises in turrets and sinks in caves;
The iron cliffs that edge the land
I grind to pebbles and sift to sand,
And beach-grass bloweth and children play
In what were the rocks of yesterday;
It is but a moment of sport to me -
I am the Sea!
I am the Sea. In my bosom deep
Wealth and Wonder and Beauty sleep;
Wealth and Wonder and Beauty rise
In changing splendor of sunset skies,
And comfort the earth with rains and snows
Till waves the harvest and laughs the rose.
Flower and forest and child of breath
With me have life — without me, death.
What if the ships go down in me? -
I am the Sea !
CHARLOTTE PERKINS STETSON.
THE HUNGRY SEA
He fierce wind drove o'er hedgerow and lea,
It bowed the grasses, it broke the tree,-
It shivered the topmost branch of the tree!
And it buried my love in the deep, deep sea,
T"


## p. 16554 (#254) ##########################################

16554
SONGS HYMNS AND LYRICS
In the dark lone grave of the hungry sea, -
Woe is me!
The bonnie white daisy closed her e'e,
And bent to the blast that swept the lea.
Blossom and grass bowed low on the lea,
But white sails dipped and sank in the sea;
They dipped and sank in the pitiless sea!
Woe is me!
'Neath the mother's breast in the leafy tree
Nestled and crept her birdies wee,
Nor heeded the blast, though weak and wee.
But no mother can save on the stormy sea;
Deaf to her cry is the merciless sea!
Woe is me!
Oh, well for the fishers of Galilee,
When they left their nets by that inland sea,
To follow Him who walked on the sea;
At whose word the pitiless waves did flee —
The hungry, insatiate waves did flee,
And left them free!
Golden the light on flower and tree
In the land where my sailor waits for me. -
The country of heaven that has no sea —
No ruthless, moaning, terrible sea;
There is the haven where I would be.
FRANCES FREELING BRODERIP.
(Daughter of Thomas Hood. )
DRIFT
A
SHIP went sailing from the shore,
And vanished in the gleaming west,
Where purple clouds a lining bore
Of gold and amethyst.
Poised in the air, a sea-gull flashed
His white wings in the sun's last ray;
A moment hung, then downward dashed
To revel in the spray.


## p. 16555 (#255) ##########################################

SONGS HYMNS AND LYRICS
16555
The fishers drew their long nets in
With careful eye and steady hand,
Till olive back and silvery fin
Strewed all the tawny sand.
Again I trod the shore: again
The sea-gull circled high in air;
Again the sturdy fishermen
Drew in their nets with care.
The sunset's gold and amethyst
Shone fairly, as I paced the shore,
But back from out the gleaming west
The ship came
nevermore!
*
*
A flood of sunlight through a rift
Between two mounds of yellow sand;
Three sea-gulls on a bit of drift
Slow surging inward toward the land;
An old dumb-beacon all awry,
With drabbled seaweed round its feet;
A star-like sail against the sky,
Where sapphire heaven and ocean meet;-
This, with the waters swirling o'er
A shifting stretch of land and shell,
Will make, for him who loves the shore,
A picture that may please him well.
*
O cool, green waves that ebb and flow,
Reflecting calm blue skies above,
How gently now ye come and go,
Since ye have drowned my love!
**
The breakers come and the breakers go
Along the silvery sand,
With a changing line of feathery snow
Between the water and land.
Seaweeds gleam in the sunset light,
On the ledges of wave-worn stone;
Orange and crimson, purple and white,
In regular windrows strown.


## p. 16556 (#256) ##########################################

16556
SONGS HYMNS AND LYRICS
1
The waves grow calm in the dusk of eve,
When the wind goes down with the sun;
So fade the smiles of those who deceive,
When the coveted heart is won.
GEORGE ARNOLD.
LONDON
A"
THWART the sky a lowly sigh
From west to east the sweet wind carried:
The sun stood still on Primrose Hill;
His light in all the city tarried:
The clouds on viewless columns bloomed
Like smoldering lilies unconsumed.
«o 'sweetheart, see! how shadowy,
Of some occult magician's rearing,
Or swung in space of heaven's grace
Dissolving, dimly reappearing,
Afloat upon ethereal tides
St. Paul's above the city rides! ”
1
A rumor broke through the thin smoke
Enwreathing abbey, tower, and palace,
The parks, the squares, the thoroughfares,
The million-peopled lanes and alleys,
An ever-muttering prisoned storm, -
The heart of London beating warm.
John DavidsON.
IN THE DOCKS
WE
THERE the bales thunder till the day is done,
And the wild sounds with wilder odors cope;
Where over crouching sail and coiling rope,
Lascar and Moor along the gangway run;
Where stifled Thames spreads in the pallid sun
A hive of anarchy from slope to slope;-
Flag of my birth, my liberty, my hope,
I see thee at the masthead, joyous one!
O thou good guest! So oft as, young and warm,


## p. 16557 (#257) ##########################################

T
.
SONGS HYMNS AND LYRICS
16557
To the home-wind thy hoisted colors bound,
Away, away from this too thoughtful ground,
Sated with human trespass and despair,
Thee only, from the desert, from the storm,
A sick mind follows into Eden air.
LOUISE I MOGEN GUINEY.
THE MOUNTAINEER
0"
H, At the eagle's height
To lie i’ the sweet of the sun,
While veil after veil takes flight,
And God and the world are one.
Oh, the night on the steep!
All that his eyes saw dim
Grows light in the dusky deep,
And God is alone with him.
1
“A. E. ” (GEORGE WM. RUSSELL. )
THE SETTLER
H"
is echoing axe the settler swung
Amid the sea-like solitude,
And rushing, thundering, down were flung
The Titans of the wood;
Loud shrieked the eagle, as he dashed
From out his mossy nest, which crashed
With its supporting bough,
And the first sunlight, leaping, flashed
On the wolf's haunt below.
His roof adorned a pleasant spot;
Mid the black logs green glowed the grain,
And herbs and plants the woods knew not
Throve in the sun and rain.
The smoke-wreath curling o'er the dell,
The low, the bleat, the tinkling bell, —
All made a landscape strange,
Which was the living chronicle
Of deeds that wrought the change.


## p. 16558 (#258) ##########################################

16558
SONGS HYMNS AND LYRICS
The violet sprung at spring's first tinge,
The rose of summer spread its glow,
The maize hung out its autumn fringe,
Rude winter brought his snow;
And still the lone one labored there,
His shout and whistle broke the air,
As cheerily he plied
His garden-spade, or drove his share
Along the hillock's side.
He marked the fire-storm's blazing food
Roar crackling on its path,
And scorching earth, and melting wood,
Beneath its greedy wrath;
He marked the rapid whirlwind shoot,
Trampling the pine-tree with its foot,
And darkening thick the day
With streaming bough and severed root,
Hurled whizzing on its way.
+
2
1
His gaunt hound yelled, his rifle flashed,
The grim bear hushed his savage growl;
In blood and foam the panther gnashed
His fangs with dying howl;
The fleet deer ceased its flying bound,
And with its moaning cry
The beaver sank beneath the wound
Its pond-built Venice by.
Humble the lot, yet his the race,
When Liberty sent forth her cry,
Who thronged in conflict's deadliest place,
To fight – to bleed — to die!
Who cumbered Bunker's height of red,
By hope through weary years were led,
And witnessed Yorktown's sun
Blaze on a nation's banner spread,
A nation's freedom won.
ALFRED B. STREET.


## p. 16559 (#259) ##########################################

SONGS HYMNS AND LYRICS
16559
THE WINTER PINE
D
OST think the heart of winter hard ?
Her soul without its love?
Attune thine ear to yonder pine
Musing the summer song.
New England's heart is wintry cold?
Her soul without a love?
Unstop thy stranger ear; and hear
Her summer song of pines.
CHARLES WELLINGTON STONE.
THE VIRGINIANS OF THE VALLEY
TH
He knightliest of the knightly race
That since the days of old
Have kept the lamp of chivalry
Alight in hearts of gold;
The kindliest of the kindly band
That, rarely hating ease,
Yet rode with Spotswood round the land,
And Raleigh round the seas;
Who climbed the blue Virginian hills
Against embattled foes,
And planted there, in valleys fair,
The lily and the rose;
Whose fragrance lives in many lands,
Whose beauty stars the earth,
And lights the hearths of happy homes
With loveliness and worth.
We thought they slept ! - the sons who kept
The names of noble sires,
And slumbered while the darkness crept
Around their vigil fires;
But aye the Golden Horseshoe” knights
Their Old Dominion keep,
Whose foes have found enchanted ground,
But not a knight asleep.
FRANCIS ORRERY TICKNOR.


## p. 16560 (#260) ##########################################

16560
SONGS HYMNS AND LYRICS
T
MY MARYLAND
THE
despot's heel is on thy shore,
Maryland!
His torch is at thy temple door,
Maryland!
Avenge the patriotic gore
That flecked the streets of Baltimore,
And be the battle queen of yore,
Maryland, My Maryland!