With sudden tears his eyes shall fill, With quick-drawn breath he sees them plain-- Those bodies that must lie so still, So tired--in the House of Pain. “OH, DRYAD THOUGHTS” Oh, Dryad thoughts of lovely yesterday!-- You melted through a sunny wood like mist, With here a wind of laughter, there a stray Pleased flower, tipped and kissed. To-day among the noises of the street, The press of faces, sullen, gay, and wise, I hear you calling, calling me; I meet Your clear, untroubled eyes. MUSIC IN THE PAVILION Faces that throng and stare and come and go-- The air a-quiver as the voices meet; And loud Humanity in mingled flow Passes with jarring tread of many feet. But over all the chatter of the crowd (The background for its delicate relief) Now trembling in a thread, now wild and loud, The violin laughs and sings, and cries its grief. Then, through it all, and round it all, the sea; A solemn heart with never-ceasing beat, Bearing an undertone of mystery The harsh and lovely notes, the shrill and sweet. Surely it is my life--of plodding days, With one Ideal holding clear and good; And sounding over, under, through my ways, Something apart--and never understood. REBUKE The tortured river-banks, the toiling piers-- I walked thereby as older grew the day, And sick with sorry clamor in mine ears, Heart-weary turned my steps and went my way. “O place full-voiced of wretchedness!” I cried. (The sun had set, the dusk was closing in) “O place where laboring Life goes heavy-eyed, Compound of grime and discord, strife and sin!” I turned me back, and lo, a miracle! For misty violet lay along the land. The shining river in mysterious spell (Divinely touched by some transmuting hand). A path of wonder was, and on it stirred, (Black-shaped, and jeweled with a crimson spark) A ship that slowly moved; and, faintly heard, A cheery song rose blithely to the dark. IN CAMP I As down I bent with eager lips Above the stones and cresses cool-- The yellow tent, the little moon, I found within my twilight pool. The fringing trees, the floating moon, The bubble tent--I passed them by, And sipped a tiny, shattered star, Deep drinking from that mirrored sky. II My tent is shadowed day and night With leaves that shift in moon and sun; Across its walls of lucent white The lovely varied tracings run; And black and slender, quickly sped, I watch the little feet at dawn-- A sudden oriole overhead, A darting linnet come and gone. THE NYMPH From forest paths we turned us, nymphs, new-made, And, lifting eyes abashed with great desire Before high Jove, the gift of souls we prayed.