By that ocean they stood in awe, and remembrance, and

wonder;

Troubled their hearts with the ceaseless surge and the

thunder

Till in fear they turned, and they gazed on the inland

hight,

And the mountains that called by day and beckoned by

night,

And, each to the other unknown, by that call was shaken: O, lost is the soul that the voice of the hight shall not

waken,

Nor heavenward climb by the paths high hearts have taken.

II

Inland the new souls urged, by river and marsh,
Treading with stedfast feet the roadways harsh.
Inland and up through fields of flower or thorn,
Through forests rude, and through desert ways forlorn -
Upward and on by meadows blossoming bright
Or where, under pestilent breath, the earth was blight;
Onward and up- and still by the river's brink
Where, nigh unto death, they lived by the living drink.

III

And now,
behold, they nearer and nearer drew
Till each pilgrim soul the other beheld and knew,
And climbing thus ever higher, they came more nigh,
Above the enfolding mists, 'neath the bending sky
Till at last at the river's source, near the mountain's

crest,

At the selfsame spring they drank, and the waters of rest; For they followed the paths high hearts have climbed to

the sun,

And the souls that the river divided became as one.

A SONG OF FRIENDSHIP

A SONG OF FRIENDSHIP

We have come nearer, friend!
The thought of each, to each
Shines clearer, dearer, friend!

All doubts have fled away;
Strange deeds and baffling speech
Now are clear as day.

Naught between us, naught

To hurt or separate;

No battles to be fought.

Friends now, in more than name;

Forever friends, our fate

Tho' never again the same.

We have come nearer, friend!
Would it were not so late,
But all the dearer, friend!

What sorcery, new and strange,
What word, what mystic token,
Has worked the wondrous change?

No word of secret powers,
Nothing sung or spoken,
Only the near, dear hours

Under the starry sky;
Trust and peace unbroken;
Silence, and a sigh.

439

A ROSE OF DREAM

I DREAMED a rose; it bloomed
Beyond compare;

Of all wild blossoms by the wayside
Most rich, most sweet, most rare.

So lovely was the rose

I could but love it,

As, drinking deep its fragrant soul,

I bent above it.

O tenderly its leaves

Outbreathed their beauty;

Humbly to worship at that shrine
Was my dear duty.

Once, when in the twilight hour,
Its spirit drew me

O wonderful! I was aware

That wild rose knew me.

Knew me, my inmost heart

And, O above

All joy imagined! lo! my rose

Gave love for love.

SONG

O, WHITHER has she fled from out the dawning and the day?

Empty is the dark of her, and twilight silver gray,

For the world that she makes happy now is far and far

away.

WHEN GIRLS COME TO THE OLD HOUSE 441

Strange, because a girl is gone the stars are not so bright,

The sunset sky not fair as once, nor morning after night,

While from the day has past away a dear and lovely light.

Come back, come back, my darling girl, and set the stars

aglow;

And make the daylight dear again, and make the blossoms blow;

Come back, come back, my golden girl, never again to go.

"WHEN THE GIRLS COME TO THE OLD

HOUSE"

I

WHEN the girls come

To the old house, to the old, old home;
When the girls race through it,

How will they endue it

With light and warmth and fun,
Beyond the touch of the sun.

II

When the girls run through it,
How the old house will awaken!

Never fear! It will not rue it

When it feels its old bones shaken,
From ancient sill to centuried rafter,

With sweet girl laughter.

III

When the girls race through it,

How each old ghost in its own old nook,

That it never forsook,

How it will run

When the girls pursue it

With frolic and fun!

IV

Old house! old home! Come, light

The fires again on the dear hearths of old.

All must be bright;

Not a room shall be cold;

And on the great hearth, where, in the old days,
Beside the fierce blaze

There was room, and to spare, for each grown-up and

child,

High let the fire be piled!

V

Old house! Old home! You need no wine

To cheer you now, for the joyous ripple

Of girlish laughter is quite enough tipple!
O, what liquor

Like the innocent shine,

The sparkle and flicker,

In the eyes of youth!
And, of a truth,

"T is youth, old house! 't is youth that fills you; Youth that calls to you; youth that thrills you.

VI

Old house! Old home! O, do not dare

To be sad, tho' aware

Of the golden, and the raven, and the pretty, pretty curls, Of the little dead girls

Treasures put away in the old chest in the garret.

Be glad, old house! the new girls have come to share it: The great, deep hearth, with room and to spare;