Along the Shore

The Project Gutenberg EBook of Along the Shore, by Rose Hawthorne
Lathrop
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Title: Along the Shore
Author: Rose Hawthorne Lathrop
Release Date: December, 2004 [EBook #7056]
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0. START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK ALONG THE
SHORE ***
This eBook was produced by Michelle Shephard, Eric Eldred,

Charles Franks and the Online Distributed Proofreading Team
ALONG THE SHORE
BY ROSE HAWTHORNE LATHROP
To
G. P. L.
We see the sky,--we love it day by day;
We feel the wind of Spring,
from blossoms winging;
We meet with souls tender as tints in May:

For these large ecstasies what are we bringing?
There is no price, best friend, for greatest meed.
Laid on the altar of our true affection,
Wild flowers of love for me
must intercede:
And lo! I win your unexcelled protection.
CONTENTS
Inlet And Shore
Impersonality
A Protean Glimpse
Power Against
Power
Life's Priestess
Love Now
One And One
The Violin

Gertrude
Unity In Space
The Shell And The Word
The
Clock-Tower Bell
Ours To Endure
Broken Waves
Why Sad
To-Day?
The Ghosts Of Revellers
Life's Burying-Ground
Beyond
Utterance
The Suicide
For Others
Zest
The Unperfected

God-Made
A Song Before Grief
Pride: Fate
Francie
Lost
Reality
Closing Chords
Grace
Endless Resource
The Baby
A
Waltz

First Bloom Of Love
A Wooing Song
Dorothy
Morning
Song
Looking Backward
Unloved
The Clock's Song

Broken-Hearted
The Cynic's Fealty
The Girls We Might Have Wed

"Neither!"
Used Up
A Youth's Suicide
Twenty Bold Mariners


In The Artillery
The Lost Battle
The Outgoing Race
Hidden
History
A Ballad Of The Mist
The Dreaming Wheel
The Roads
That Meet
A PASSING VOICE
ALONG THE SHORE.

INLET AND SHORE.
Here is a world of changing glow,
Where moods roll swiftly far and
wide;
Waves sadder than a funeral's pride,
Or bluer than the
harebell's blow!
The sunlight makes the black hulls cast
A firefly radiance down the
deep;
The inlet gleams, the long clouds sweep,
The sails flit up, the
sails drop past.
The far sea-line is hushed and still;
The nearer sea has life and voice;

Each soul may take his fondest choice,--
The silence, or the restless
thrill.
O little children of the deep,--
The single sails, the bright, full sails,

Gold in the sun, dark when it fails,
Now you are smiling, then you
weep!
O blue of heaven, and bluer sea,
And green of wave, and gold of sky,

And white of sand that stretches by,
Toward east and west, away
from me!
O shell-strewn shore, that silent hears
The legend of the mighty main,

And tells to none the lore again,--
We catch one utterance only:
"Years!"
IMPERSONALITY
I dreamed within a dream the sun was gold;
And as I walked beneath

this golden sun,
The world was like a mighty play-room old,
Made
for our pleasure since it was begun.
But when I waked I found the sun was air,
The world was air, and all
things only seemed,
Except the thoughts we grow by; for in prayer

We change to spirits such as God has dreamed.
A PROTEAN GLIMPSE.
Time and I pass to and fro,
Hardly greeting as we go,--
Go askant,
like crossing wings
Of sea-gulls where the brave sea sings.
Time, the messenger of Fate!
Cunning master of debate,
Cunning
soother of all sorrow,
Ruthless robber of to-morrow;
Tyrant to our
dallying feet,
Though patron of a life complete;
Like Puck upon a
rosy cloud,
He rides to distance while we woo him,--
Like pale
Remorse wrapped in a shroud,
He brings the world in sackcloth to
him!
O dimly seen, and often met
As shadowings of a wild regret!

O king of us, yet feebly served;
Dispenser of the dooms reserved;

So silent at the folly done,
So deadly when our respite's gone!--

As sea-gulls, slanting, cross at sea,
So cross our rapid flights with
thee.
POWER AGAINST POWER.
[Nathaniel Hawthorne, 1864.]
Where spells were wrought he sat alone,
The wizard touching minds
of men
Through far-swung avenues of power,
And proudly held the
magic pen.
By the dark wall a white Shape gleams,
By morning's light a Shadow
falls!
Is it a servant of his brain,
Or Power that to his power calls?
By morning's light the Shadow looms,
And watches with relentless
eyes;
In night-gloom holds the glimmering lamp,
While the pen
ever slower flies.

By the dark wall it beckons still,
By evening light it darkly stays;

The wizard looks, and his great life
Thrills with the sense of finished
days.
A